#but really i’m just terrible at drawing wide brimmed hats

[mysteriesofloves]

break me into a better me (i was slow to you)

No part of this feels sudden.

sequel to this | 2.4k | rated M | read on ao3

Blair’s head slants to the side, narrowing her eyes at the metal sculpture, just about her height. He snorts a little, a snicker under his breath, and it makes her flinch. She doesn’t like being laughed at. Dan thinks it’s because she’s not used to it.

“Looking at it at ninety degrees isn’t going to suddenly make you understand it.”

“There’s nothing to understand,” she says, but tips her head further. He laughs again. He can’t help it. He likes the way she drawls and snips, the way plain words sound more cutting coming out of her mouth. It’s easier for him to think of Blair phonetically. Anything more would be getting ahead of himself.

“If you tilt any more your hat is gonna fall off.”

Her nose scrunches, and when it’s just the two of them, he kisses the little wrinkle. It always catches her off guard, makes her turn the kind of pink like holding a lit candle up close to your skin; a warm and fuzzy glow before the burn.

It’s not just the two of them. His pinkie brushes hers, wanting to hold but not daring to.

She’s a whip-crack of a woman, turning on her heel and marching down the hall. He’s getting better at keeping up with her, but he always feels one step behind. It’s the academic in him, or maybe that lonely little outsider still trying to wax poetic; he can’t help but stay just a little bit away — just enough to try and watch the whole picture take place.

People make way for her when she walks by. No one ever makes way for him.

*

He takes a seat on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb. She’s silk against overwashed cotton, a diamond in all his rough, gorgeous as a painting. No, better than a painting, her chest rising and falling. Better than a painting because she’s real even when she shouldn’t be. Even where she shouldn’t be.

“I can’t sleep when I’m being watched,” she mumbles.

He smiles. “I’m admiring.”

“Not you,” she says, eyes still closed. A finger pops up. “Him.”

“It’s just Cedric.”

The bed dips under him. She takes up most of it, limbs splayed out, but she scoots aside enough that he can lay down next to her. It’s automatic now, how she curls into him.

“Ew,” she says, lids half-opened. “These boxers are terrible.”

“Take them off, then.”

Dan’s never had a problem making space for people in his life, but he likes how much Blair is willing to take up. She smells like amber, his nose nuzzling her neck, tongue coming out to lick across her jaw. Her hand comes harsh over his face, nails biting at his eyebrow.

He slides a hand under her slip, tickling her stomach until she’s breathless, her heel jamming against his shin, but no real effort made to stop him. Then lower, trapping her clit between the knuckles of his fore and middle fingers, dripping slow down his hand like bitter molasses. He gets her off like that, writhing in his palm, his other hand over her mouth so Ben won’t hear, too blissed out for her to fight it. She does after, though, fights it, gets him back, and maybe that’s what he wanted; to have her pin him to the bed and lave at him languidly until he has a lump in his throat. She hums, over and over, like teasing him tastes so impossibly good. Then she’s over him, slipping him inside her easily but not moving, scraping her teeth over his jaw playfully. She talks when she’s on top, things he wants to write down later but never does, things he's wanted to hear but never knew how to ask for. He doesn’t know how she knows. It takes a certain kind of intuition to hurt people the way she does, he thinks, and it must be the same thing.

Say please, she’s whispering now. Come on, Humphrey, use your words. You’re supposed to be good at that. Say —

He rolls them over, kissing her to shut her up. He wants her to give up the act for him, just for a little bit, wants her to know that it wouldn’t be losing. They keep playing these games, so they don’t have to look this thing they’re doing in the face. But it always ends like this, too-soft kisses and too-long eye contact. Not with a bang but.

She pushes at a fallen Cedric, tumbled off the shelf from the force of the bed against the wall, until he lands plush-face first on the floor.

“Third person’s supposed to be a stranger,” she says. He laughs until he’s breathless, the ache in his stomach a clenched fist, ready to knock him out.

*

Her hair hangs off the edge of the bed, long enough and low enough it just about grazes the floor. She huffs dramatically, rolling over onto her stomach, her feet kicking the air like a girl in one of Jenny’s movie night picks.

“Come here,” he says, putting his book down and holding out his hand from where he sits at his desk. She skips over, bypassing it, moving to straddle him. His hand slides a smooth trail from her thigh to her hip to her ass, but she leans all the way forward and rests her head on his shoulder, her nose brushing his neck, and so he settles his hold on her lower back instead.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she sighs. “That’s the problem.”

He hums thoughtfully. “Little Miss Contrary needs something to complain about?”

She pushes back up, pouting. He kisses her. He can’t help it.

“I haven’t been this happy in a long time, Dan,” she says. He’d known well enough, could see it when she let him — like she is now, rosy-warm in the light of his room, brimming with vulnerability. It breaks his heart a little, that he didn't do something about it sooner. She looks away, swallows, then looks back with a little smile, having steeled herself. “God knows why.”

He traces her cheek, draws her forward to rest her forehead against his. Let the armour fall, he’s saying. I’m not hiding anything. I’m not waiting to make you bleed.

“Because I give really great head.”

Blair laughs, a little squeak of a noise, having been caught off guard, and Dan loves it.

No, he doesn’t. He can’t. That’s what he always does; he falls in love too fast. It’s his fatal flaw, he thinks. The first crack that shatters every splintered relationship. He’s already flattened before they’re even ready to jump.

(But no part of this feels like falling. It feels like finally waking up).

“Dorota thinks I’ve joined a cult,” she says.

“As if you’d be such a follower,” the arm at her back winds around her tighter, pressing her firmly to him. He smoothes a palm down the back of her head, twists a finger around a curl. “If anything you’d start one.”

There’s a kiss to his neck, tentative almost, and Dan feels it everywhere.

“Even Serena noticed a difference,” she says. They tend to avoid the names of the usual suspects. He tucks a finger under her chin to lift it, leveling her to him.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I’m waiting for it to hurt,” she says. Dan doesn’t think he’s ever seen her so open, her eyes as wide as a curious child’s. “It won’t, will it?”

“It won’t,” he says. “Not if I can help it.”

It was the worst year of my life, her back against his front the other night, so she didn’t have to look at him even in the dark. Or so he couldn’t look at her. And then it ended so suddenly.

(No part of this feels sudden. It feels like a long time coming).

The hand at the back of her head tips her down enough that he can kiss her forehead, then guides her back to rest against him, fingers picking at her curls idly.

“Do you think we should tell them?”

“Them?” he muses, but his hand stalls. She doesn’t bother sitting up. He feels the look she’s giving him anyway. “I don’t know. They won’t understand.”

“They don’t have to,” Blair murmurs. “I do.”

“You want to tell them?”

The truth is, he doesn’t. He really doesn’t want anyone else to see this thing between them — whatever it is, this special thing.

“I’m no longer Queen B and you’re done being Serena’s jester,” she looks up hesitantly, like she needs confirmation. He rolls his eyes to keep up appearances, but nods, pressing his lips to her temple. They can hardly look at it themselves.

“I want this to exist outside this room,” she says. “And it can’t unless we tell them.”

The faint din of Ben moving around the kitchen keeps him grounded in reality. Blair likes to live in a storybook, likes picture perfection. Maybe it’s uncharitable, but he’s surprised she wants to take this out from between the pages. She says, “We’ll tell them tonight, then. Agreed?”

Chuck’s party doesn't seem like the right place, but he wonders if that’s not the point. He shrugs, shifting her slightly. “Whatever you want, Waldorf.”

She sits up straighter, her small hands on his chest to level her, just enough that she can raise a brow at him.

“Agreed,” he says.

*

Dan’s always felt a little like a man amongst immortals at these things, penthouses with high descending staircases and glimmering partygoers, always acutely aware that he doesn’t bleed gold. And it’s always at these things he finds himself face to face with the aftermath of his hubris — his foolish thinking that he could ever be one of them. He doesn’t know when or where the chaos starts and ends — if it even does end. But the night dies down as suddenly as it sprung up, and he’s nursing a drink at the bar with phones buzzing updates in the pockets of him and everyone around him, and when Blair makes her way through the crowd; the look on her face, the nervous wring of her hands, the hush of her voice, that’s what it looks like. Tonight was supposed to be the first page. But it’s looking like the end.

She’s watching him with those wide eyes that he can’t bring himself to meet. He downs the rest of his drink as she speaks, sliding the empty glass along the counter to keep his hands busy.

When he finally speaks, he says, “Serena’s gonna need us now more than ever.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. He can tell, from the way she recoils. But it’s the truth. He gestures for another drink at the realization that they’re the same thing.

“We knew this was a mistake when it started,” she says. He doesn’t let it hurt him, knowing she’s just

trying to cover up the chink in her armour.

“We knew it was a bad idea,” he says. “It was never a mistake.”

“I knew this would happen,” she mutters, assuming that uptight air that grated him all throughout high school. “You should’ve, too.”

“You kissed me first,” he bites back childishly, because he feels inexplicably like he let her down, and it’s eating him up inside.

“Only because I accidentally made you an accomplice to a prosecutable offence!”

“It was pretty eager for a pity kiss.”

“How was I supposed to know that falling into bed with you after a bad day would have you falling in love with me!”

Her breath catches. He finishes off the rest of his second drink.

“Sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean –“

“It’s okay,” he says. He wants to tell her that it started before that for him; looking at it now like unspooling a film reel. “It was actually the mismatched shoes that did it for me,” he says flatly instead.

She sniffles, and he chances a glance at her, her teeth dug into her bottom lip, biting it white.

“I guess the world just wasn’t ready,” she says, and Dan knows she means them, then wonders if they’re not the same thing. “I’m gonna –“

“Blair?” he says. She stops, but she doesn’t look up. “It was nice while it lasted.”

Her lashes flutter, chin dipping, and then she’s gone, slipping between the cracks of the suited walls of the crowd. Not with a bang but.

*

He lingers in front of the elevator after the doors close, wondering if he shouldn’t just turn around now. He hears footsteps from down the hall, recognizing them as hers right away, the light padding that starred as the background noise to his last few weeks. She’s still in her cocktail dress, but her feet are bare and her hair’s the slightest bit displaced, her eyes tinged red.

“What are you doing here?��

“I don’t want to break up,” he blurts out, because apparently the speech he’d written on the elevator ride up got wiped clean the second he saw her. She blinks at him for a beat, then smiles. The Queen of the Met Steps smile. Something akin to the cat that got the cream.

“It’s a good thing we were never really dating, then.”

It should sting, probably, but with that proud little smile making an appearance, he knows she’s just goading him.

“The thing is, I don’t want to go back home and have you not be there.”

“That sounds like quite the problem for you,” she says, swaying a step towards him.

“I think it concerns you, too,” he says, meeting her in the middle. “Given the whole really good head thing.”

Blair’s lips purse, rolling her eyes. When he reaches out, she takes his hand.

“I suppose if we didn’t want to break up, then we would need to start dating first,” she says.

“Well, if you suppose.”

Her free hand curls in the lapel of his coat, tugging him forward, then smoothes up to thread through the hair at the base of his skull.

“Screw the world,” he says. “We’ll figure it out. I’m ready.”

He steadies her with an arm around her waist as she tips up on her toes, rose-golden in the hazy light from the french doors.

“You’re a sap,” she mumbles, kissing him.

#dair #dan x blair #gossip girl #* #mysteriesfic*

[animepreferences]

P R E F E R E N C E # 6 - S I C K

C H U U Y A

“And where do you think you are going?” Busted. Chuuya was busted. He should have known that you would catch him, he should have known that you would be keeping tabs. Furthermore, he had underestimated your observing personality once again. You were far too over protective for your own good. “Fresh air?” Chuuya would try, his tone hopeful as he took his hat off, fidling with it nervously. It was amazing after all the power he posessed, that he was still frightened by his frail, unassuming girlfriend. Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. “Mmm, is that why you are dressed for work then? Odd attire for some meager fresh air.” Walking towards him, you would eye him suspicously. Stuffy nose, swollen features, blotchy red face; there was no way you were allowing Chuuya to go to work like this. Absolutely no way. “I’m feeling better?” Chuuya would try again as you would walk circles around him as if you were a corrections officer. “Is that so?” You would muse, pressing your palm to his forehead as you felt the scolding temperature beneath your touch. You couldn’t help but laugh. “Because to me, it seems like you’ve got a pretty wicked fever.” Busted. Again. “Your hands are cold, Y/N.” A cough would betray him as he tried to reason with you, hanging his head in defeat. “And you are sick.” You would laugh again as you placed your hands on his shoulders, guiding him back to the couch as he continued to hang his head in defeat, knowing that you were far too smart for your own good. Plopping onto the couch, Chuuya would let out a small ‘hmph’ as he stared up at you, a pout on his lips. “Hey, don’t look at me like that. The more you rest, the sooner you’ll get back to work.” Pressing a kiss to his forehead, you would begin to walk away only to be jerked back to him when he caught your wrist. “The least you can do is cuddle me.” Who were you to ignore those wide, childlike eyes that were filled to the brim with desperation? This is how you knew Chuuya was really sick; he was never so verbally needy. “Your wish is my demand,” You would sigh, curling behind him on the couch as you brought him to your chest, arms enclosing around him tightly. He would cuddle closer to you, his head lolling against your body weakly, humming when you would pull a blanket over the both of you. “Rest now.” You would whisper in his ear as his breathing steadied and his body became still. Sure, you were at risk of getting sick, but it was worth it to you. Chuuya was your number one priority afterall.

-

D A Z A I

“Long day already?” You would laugh half heartedly as you drank in his fatigued frame. His shoulders would be slumped forward, his hair messier than usual, his under eyes tired and slightly bruised. He was only home for his lunch break and yet he had looked like he had just came home from a 24 hour bender. “Kunikida sent me home early.” Dazai would smile crookedly, his voice attempting to sound normal. If he were talking to anyone else, he would have had them fooled, but you weren’t just anyone else. You knew Dazai inside and out. You knew instantly that something was wrong. “What’s wrong?” You would inquire, blood draining from your face as you approached him in a fleeting second. Your worried hands would hover from his chest, to his shoulder, to his face. You weren’t really sure what you were looking for until he would turn to sneeze into his elbow. “Dazai-San, are you sick?” You would ask, pressing your forearm to his forehead. Gasping from the heat that burned you, you would take his face in your palms scrutinizing him carefully, your eyes locked together for a fleeting second before you would lose your ever loving shit. “My poor Dazai! You are burning up! What’s wrong with you? What are your symptoms? Are you okay? Are you hungry?” Frantically pushing him to the couch, you would shove him down a little too much gusto causing him to land with a loud ‘thud’. You would ignore it, however, eyes searching for a blanket to wrap him up in. “Y-You need blankets. To break your fever. And some soup. Yes, some nice hot soup. How about some tea? Yes, I always liked hot tea for my sore throat. Maybe I’ll draw you a hot bath, yeah? Though you need some rest, you should probably stay right here. Oh, yeah! Maybe-“

“Y/N.” Dazai would interrupt you with a weak chuckle, sitting up as he rubbed his now sore neck. “Yes, my love?” You would respond eagerly, rushing over to him to smooth his hair back gently. “I’m terribly sorry to inconvience you in this state. There’s no need to fret, however.” Gently clasping onto your arms, he would pull you to his chest in one swift motion, his face nuzzling into your hair. “The only thing I want now and forever is to hold you in my arms. Perhaps your body heat can break my fever, yeah?” His words would be muffled, but you would still be able to decipher his words coherently. Usually you would roll your eyes at his forwardness, but right now it was rather endearing. After all, the only thing he wanted while he was sick was to hold you in his arms. And although you were slightly apprehensive about catching the ailment, you wouldn’t have to heart to tell him this. “Of course, Dazai. Whatever you’d like.” You would murmur into his chest as his arms tightened around you, his breath coming out in a satisfied sigh. ‘Maybe I should get sick more often’ Dazai mused internally to himself as he allowed your warmth to fill him to the brim.

-

A K U T A G A W A

You would awake to his strong arms wrapping around your torso, his breath tickling the crook of your neck. Instantly, you would know that there was something off in Aku. Furthermore, your boyfriend was not typically one to wake up early. In fact, it were usually you who was waking him up like this. Not the other way around. “Good morning, Aku.” You would murmur as you attempted to turn around to face him. You wouldn’t be able to, however, as his arms would be stuck to you like glue. “Aku?” You would murmur inquisitively as you felt his hot cheek press to your shoulder blade. This was strange. Eyes cracking open to look at the clock beside you, your eyebrows would knit together as the time showed that it was nearly noon. Usually, Akutagawa would be out the door by now. “Hey, it’s kinda late. I think you overslept.” Finally shrugging his arms off of you, you would sit straight up in bed rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. A small gasp would get stuck in your throat, however, as you took in your boyfriends physical state. Mouth slightly ajar and emitting heavy breaths, nose completely rubbed raw and red, cheeks enflamed, iris’s a deep purple; Akutagawa was sick. Very sick at that. “Not going in today. Too sick.” He would breathe, eyes closing slowly as he let out a strained cough. You could clearly hear the congestion and it hurt your heart. “Good call.” You would murmur, running your fingers through his tangled hair reassuringly. “Aku, do we need to go to a doctor?” You would ask, worry sincerely laced in your words. “No. Just a cold.” He would murmur, eyes cracking open to examine your worried expression. “I’m gonna get you some pain killers to nip that fever and make you some soup, my love.” You would say, slowly leaving the bed as you stared back at him sadly. You had never seen Aku so pathetic in your life; it hurt your heart. Before leaving you would throw another blanket over him, propping another pillow under his head kindly. “What would I do without you?” He would whisper, staring up at you with love in his eyes. Instinctively, you would lean down to kiss him, lips barely touching before he would turn to his side hastily. Huh? “I’m sick, Y/N. Don’t be stupid.” He would scold you, a laugh reaching your lips as you shook your head. Leave it to Aku to be rational even when he wasn’t feeling his best.

#bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs preferences #bungou stray dogs imagines #bungou stray dogs imagine #bungou stray dogs blurb #bungou stray dogs blurbs #bungou stray dogs akutagawa #bungou stray dogs chuuya #bungou stray dogs dazai #bungou stray dogs smut #bungou stray dogs ships #bsd chuuya #bsd dazai #akutagawa bsd #bungo stray dogs #chuuya x reader #dazai x reader #akutagawa x reader #anime #manga

[lupinlongbottom]

Burning Bridges pt. 2

Neville Longbottom x Reader

Summary: First day of school! First day of fighting! Wait what? Neville convinces (Y/N) to chat with him, explain what had been going on for the last five years. It’s not much, but it’s a start.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: some swearing, angst if you squint idk

A/N: i’m not good at angst. i’m also not good at plot? dunno. trying hard, my dudes. i have like, 6 plot points i want to hit but this chapter hits none of them. filler? idk. angst? who’s to say? enjoy!

Part 1 ... Part 3 ... Part 4 ... Part 5 ... Part 6 ... Part 7

__

It had taken nearly all day to get her classroom in order. McGonagall wasn’t joking, the previous Potions Master, Atticus Barclay, was a bit of a hoarder and a terribly messy one at that. To (Y/N)’s knowledge, Slughorn had retired only a year after the Battle of Hogwarts, leaving a rather necessary spot to be filled quickly. Not exactly the wisest choice, she noted. (Y/N) finished dusting the final shelf, turning the label on the fluxweed jar outward.

“Atticus you swine,” (Y/N) groaned, stretching her back. “Honestly, any worthwhile Potions Master would’ve taken much better care of their workspace…”

She took a step back, admiring her handiwork. No more did the dungeon feel like it had in her school years. (Y/N) had opened the curtains, allowing the little bit of sunlight to filter in. A few waves of her wand allowed ivy to grow, following the curvature of the ceiling, dangling ever so slightly. Felt homey. Inviting. A barn owl rested on (Y/N)’s shoulder, nuzzling her face slightly.

“Hello, Edgar,” She smiled, petting him gently. “You like the place? Seems more my style, no?”

The barn owl sputtered a response, flying over to the window.

“I know you want to go fly, but I haven’t got any letters to send,” (Y/N) sighed. “As usual. You can make laps around the castle, right?” 

Edgar’s black eyes bore into (Y/N)’s, almost as if he was cross. No, (Y/N) decided. Her owl, best friend, was cross.  

“If you want me to send a letter so bad, I could convince myself to send mum one. I know how much you love flying through Bristol to get to her,” Edgar stood silent. “Right. I’ll think about it,” (Y/N) turned to her owl. “Maybe I should cast a warming charm in the winter…”

-

“(Y/N)!” Neville smiled, practically running into the Potions classroom. He sat down next to (Y/N). “Got here early, as usual it seems.”

(Y/N) grinned widely at her friend. “Never late, to Potions at least. I want to pass my O.W.L’s somehow.”

“If anyone had to worry about not passing their Potions O.W.L, it wouldn’t be you,” Neville laughed.

“You flatter me, Longbottom,” said (Y/N), watching a wisp of her breath escape her lips. “You’d think Snape would put a warming charm on this room when snow’s on the ground, right?” She rubbed her arm slowly, trying to warm up.

“You’re cold?” Neville’s eyes widened. “You should’ve worn your cardigan! I tell you that every time we have class.”

“You know I like the look of vests much better,” (Y/N) teased, moving her hand to her nose, pinching it lightly. “Besides, someone jinxed my jumpers. Shrink every time I touch them.”

“Again?” Neville brought his voice to a whisper. “You’ve got to stop letting them bully you like that…”

“You’re one to talk!” (Y/N) quipped, giggling slightly. “I tried enchanting my chest to keep them out, but maybe I need to try something different.”

“In any case,” Neville stood up, walking behind (Y/N). “You should at least be warm in your favorite class.” Suddenly, (Y/N) felt a slight weight on her shoulders. Intrigued, she glanced down to see a familiar gray cardigan. Gryffindor cardigan. Neville sat back down, sans jumper, his cheeks dusted pink. From the cold, of course.

“Snape’s going to dock at least 10 points from Gryffindor when he sees you not wearing the proper uniform,” (Y/N) said, fighting back the biggest smile from her face.

“It’ll be like any other class, then,” Neville shrugged, moving to fix the jumper now atop of (Y/N)’s shoulders, wearing it like a cape. “Y-you can keep it, if you want.”

“What? No, I can’t keep it! It’s—”

“Keep it until you can un-jinx your jumpers. It’s bloody freezing.” 

-

“On second thought… the cold builds character.”

__

It had only taken three outfit changes for (Y/N) to finally settle on a pair of matching robes and a hat, mauve in color. They were once her mother’s, passed down in hopes (Y/N) would make better use of it at Hogwarts. 

“I guess she’s right,” (Y/N) hummed, readjusting her hat. “Don’t you think I look just ghastly in hats?” Her head turned to the barn owl, sitting on his perch adjacent to the full length mirror. The owl cooed. “Exactly right. I do look like my grandmother. Always the observatory owl, Edgar,” (Y/N) glanced at the clock. “Shit! I’m going to be late!”

Flying out the door, (Y/N) hardly had the moment to recognize the figure exiting his door as well. The two collided, knocking both parties to the ground.

“I’m so sorry!” (Y/N) blurted, grabbing the wall to steady herself upward. “Are you alright?” 

“Been better,” Neville groaned, rubbing his forehead.

“Oh, Professor Longbottom,” (Y/N) readjusted her robe, reluctantly offering her hand.

“Thanks,” Neville forced a smile, his lips drawing a fine line. He took her hand, fingers lingering for a moment too long. He pulled away at the realization. “Running late?” 

“Old habits,” she shrugged. “I see you’re not exactly punctual tonight either.”

“Gran sent me an owl, had to reply before I forgot,” said Neville, smiling at the thought. “Wished me luck on my first day.”

“That’s sweet of her, how is she—” (Y/N) stopped herself, coughing lightly. “Well, by any means it’s not wise for the two newest professors to be late on the first night.” 

“Of course not, that’d be barbaric. I doubt McGonagall would let us hear the end of it,” He laughed, expecting a response. Nothing. “Is that your hat?” Neville pointed to the mauve pile to the left of her.

(Y/N) glanced downward. “So it is,” She gently leaned down to retrieve it, placing it again on her head. “Is it on straight?”

“Isn’t it a circle? How could it be on straight? Is there a wrong way to wear a witch hat?”

“I’ll go check my mirror then—”

“You look spectacular,” Neville grabbed (Y/N)’s hand, stopping the witch from re-entering her room. “We’re running late as it is, come on.”

The run to the Great Hall wasn’t the most graceful, but years of practice and memorization of the hallways of Hogwarts allowed the two to arrive just before the rest of the students. McGonagall eyed the two of them down, almost disapprovingly.

“I see you two made it,” she said, slightly sour. Her eyes glanced down between the two wizards, noticing their hands were still intertwined from the run. “I do suggest, however, that you keep any and all personal relationships between the two of you absent from the students,” (Y/N) realized what she had meant, immediately pulling her hand away, almost angry at the lack of warmth.

“Oh, we’re not—”

“Students tend to gossip,” Minerva smiled, glancing down at (Y/N). “I would assume you of all people would know that much, Professor (L/N).”

“Yes, Headmistress.” (Y/N) responded meekly, dipping her head down, eyes disappearing from the brim of her hat, hopefully covering the growing pink in her cheeks.

Neville laughed. “Sorry for that,” his hand moved to fix his rather perfectly gelled hair, a strand had flown loose. “I had to stop you from going back into your room somehow.”

“You didn’t have to grab my hand, I know my way around the castle,” (Y/N) huffed, marching up to the faculty table that sat in the front of the hall.

“You didn’t let go, though,” Neville smiled slightly, if only to himself.

(Y/N) found one of two empty seats, thankfully not next to one another. The wizard that was sitting in the seat next to hers was unfamiliar to (Y/N). His dark brown hair was tied together with a gold ribbon, the hair touching nearly the bottom of his robe hood. He looked young, maybe a few years older than (Y/N), slight wrinkles dancing the corners of his violet eyes.

“Is this seat taken?” (Y/N) asked, smiling gently. The wizard shook his head.

“Of course not,” He hummed, gesturing for (Y/N) to sit down. “I must say, I can already tell you’re going to be better company than Barclay.”

“This was his seat?” (Y/N) asked again, finally settling into her seat. The students had started filing into the hall, sitting at their respective  house tables.

“He smelled of murtlap bile and cigars half the time,” He hummed, looking at (Y/N). “I enjoy your perfume much better,” the wizard sniffed deeply. “Mint. Slightly musty.” 

“It’s not perfume,” (Y/N) flamed. “I hardly wear any. It must be my toothpaste, or potions ingredients.”

“Alright Minty,” the wizard laughed, enjoying his new nickname for (Y/N). “I assume you have a name?” 

“(Y/N) (L/N), Potions Master,” She nodded. “You are…?”

“Lancelot Knight, Muggle Studies,” He shook (Y/N)’s hand. Firm, almost constricting.

“Lancelot…Knight?” (Y/N) fought back a laugh.

“Most people call me Lance, I actually prefer it,” He laughed. “My parents, bless their hearts, really had it out for me I reckon.”

“Strong name,” (Y/N) hummed. “Nice to meet you, Professor Knight.”

The first years had finally filed in, ready to be sorted by the ever elusive hat. (Y/N) had to fight back the tears each time a student was claimed to her house, like a proud mother. She had never met these kids, but was sorely excited to do such, to teach them. As the dinner went on, (Y/N) tried to memorize every moment she could, raking in her first night as a professor.

Neville had been staring at (Y/N) for quite some time. He really didn’t intend to. Why had she been trying to ignore him? All he wanted was his friend back. They were practically best mates years ago, what happened? Surely their fight couldn’t have left scars that deep on (Y/N), right? He swallowed hard, crossing the now empty hall over to the mauve-clad witch.

“(Y/N) I really think we should talk,” He started, smoothing his robes. Neville caught the eye of the wizard sitting next to her, he looked like he hadn’t taken a proper bath in weeks. “Please. Hear me out.”

“Professor Longbottom,” (Y/N) sighed. “I really don’t see—”

“Please. Just one conversation and then you can go back to ignoring me,” Neville pleaded. “I need closure. We need closure.”

“Closure?” (Y/N) stood up. “Closure to what? If the last five years were any indication to what sort of relationship we could possibly have—”

“We don’t need to be friends,” Neville felt particularly bold, cutting (Y/N) for the second time. “We don’t need to go back to where we were before, but I want to at least… I don’t know. Clear the air.”

Lance laughed. “Wow. The tension in this room is… pliable. Could run a knife through it,” He stood up. “I dunno, Minty. I reckon you should give plant-boy a chance, at least a walk in the moonlight.”

She groaned lightly, feeling both sets of eyes digging deep into her. “One lap."

Neville’s ears perked up, grinning lightly. “One lap?"

“Around the grounds. Clear as much air as you need,” She stood up, pushing her chair back hard. “You can meet me in the courtyard, I don’t think I could stand another minute in this hat.”

“Right,” Neville fought back his growing grin. “See you in a few.” He darted out, practically running to the teacher’s wing.

Lance laughed again. “Ex-boyfriends can be a pain, can’t they? Been there, done that,” He flattened his kerchief. “Though, ex-girlfriends are much messier. ‘Bout fifty-fifty, really.”

“He’s not my ex-boyfriend,” (Y/N) stated matter-of-factly. 

“Right,” He smirked. “Whatever the case, I hope you enjoy your walk, Minty.”

(Y/N) took her time returning to her chambers. Neville could wait a moment, he could wait a thousand moments. She knew he would. Was it unfair of her? Perhaps. She tried not to dwell on it, as she really needed to change into something less constricting.

Filtering through her dresser, (Y/N) had found the black trousers she had been searching for, but was distraught on a top. “It’s a windy night, better wear something warm…” she mumbled, opening her jumper drawer. She owned too many sweaters for one person, as they were her favorite thing to wear. The scratching wool felt comforting, warm. “I know I have that blue one in here somewhere…” Flinging through her collection, her hands stopped, reaching a gray one, the trim gold and maroon. (Y/N) allowed her fingers to trace the messy stitching underneath the tag.

N . L

“Stupid,” (Y/N) mumbled, throwing the cardigan to the side, revealing the blue jumper she had been searching for. “Edgar, what do you think?”

The owl clicked his beak twice, floating down to the discarded cardigan. 

“Eddie…” (Y/N) strained. “No, I’m not going to return it! Not now, anyway. It’s been seven years,” Edgar stared at his owner, fluffing the jumper with his talons. “Well don’t ruin it...” (Y/N) whispered, clawing it out of the owl’s grip. She folded it gently, placing it on her nearly empty counter, next to an old Honeydukes box. An old gift. (Y/N) hesitated for a moment, almost begging herself to pry it open.

“I shouldn’t keep him waiting any longer,” she decided, pulling the blue wool over her head. “Like a plaster, rip it off quickly.”

__

The moon was almost full, only a sliver missing from the round figure, allowing the entire courtyard to shimmer in its light. The fountain still babbled as always, water tricking down to the pool below. Neville focused on his reflection as well has he could, his hair still neatly gelled back. Well, as neat as it could be.

“She’s taking a long time…” Neville hummed, twirling a finger in his reflection, distorting the water. “Is she trying to pull a prank on me?Never going to show up? No,” Neville clicked, shaking his head. “Shut up, Longbottom. She’s your friend—was your friend.”  

“Sorry I’m late,” said (Y/N), finally entering the courtyard. “Couldn’t decide on a jumper.” 

“Miss wearing uniforms?”

“All the time,” (Y/N) groaned. “Never have to worry about what to wear, always put on the same thing.” 

Neville smiled, standing up to meet (Y/N) in the middle, hands again in his pockets. “You look nice, as usual.”

“Trying to butter me up?” (Y/N) smirked, teasing the Gryffindor slightly.

“Compliments never hurt,” he shrugged. “Thank you, for agreeing to this (Y/N).”

“I only did it because Professor Knight was listening to our whole conversation, it would’ve looked poor on my part if I didn’t”

“So that bloke’s name is Knight?”

“Lancelot Knight, if you can imagine.”

“His parents must’ve really had it out for him.”

“Must’ve.”

Silence.

“Well? We should get walking,” (Y/N) began to leave the courtyard, headed towards the open fields surrounding the castle.

Neville followed suit, allowing (Y/N) to stride at least five steps ahead. Her hair was pulled into her signature low ponytail, wrapped neatly with a bow. Neville could count on one had the amount of times he had seen her without her bow, her hair down. One of them being at the Battle of Hogwarts. It was in a pink ribbon, just like the one she was wearing now. Somehow it fell out in all of the commotion.

“Do you ever get tired of your bows?” Neville asked, almost absentmindedly. 

“We’re not here to discuss my hair choices, Professor Longbottom,” said (Y/N), not turning around. “If we were, we’d start with your horrendous use of gel.”

“Horrendous?” Neville choked. “My Gran loves it when I gel my hair back!” 

“Your Gran needs better spectacles,” (Y/N) slowed her pace, allowing Neville to get closer to her. “You used too much of it.” 

“I’ll tone it down,” said Neville, fingers now trying to mess up his hair. “(Y/N), I’ve missed you,” she didn’t respond. “I know that you probably think that I’m the dumbest bloke to walk these grounds after the way we left off, but I just wanted you to hear that.”

“I wish I could say the same.”

“I know you’re lying, (Y/N).”

“You don’t know anything, Longbottom,” (Y/N) quipped, allowing herself to turn around just once. “You don’t know how badly I needed a friend that day, how badly I needed someone to care about me.”

“I see we’ve dropped the formalities,” said Neville, noting her lack of their shared title. “(Y/N), I didn’t know what you needed. You can be really good at avoiding conversations… or people.”

“You…” (Y/N) fought back the tears, trying hard to give herself the restraint she had years ago. “You never asked!"

“How was I supposed to know?” His voice rising.

“How were you supposed to know, what? That my dad escaped from Azkaban? That-that he joined the Dark Lord again? A man I had never met in my life?” She felt the hot tears stream down her cheeks. “You knew all of that!”

“I didn’t know he was there! The battle was a bit hectic, loads of people were dying, (Y/N).”

“Including him! My own father!” (Y/N) seethed, her eyes forcing themselves to meet with Neville’s. “My own father died and I never got to meet him, never got to say hello, let alone goodbye.” 

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N). I didn’t know at the time, I was—”

“Preoccupied with Lovegood. I know.”

“That’s a bit uncalled for,” He quipped. (Y/N) sat with her knees tucked under her chin. Neville’s tone softened. “You’re hurting right now. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, then, I mean,” He sat down next to her. “But I’m here now.”

“That man,” (Y/N) continued, as if Neville wasn’t staring her down. “He was the reason I tried so hard to be good. To be everything he wasn’t. Kind, caring, loving,” she wiped a stray tear. “Why did it hurt so bad when he died?”

“I don’t know,” Neville admitted. That was a question only (Y/N) could answer. He felt like she knew that. “I found out when reading about the dead. Your dad’s name stuck out. I sent an owl—”

“I know.” 

“What? I thought you said—”

“I lied,” (Y/N) chuckled airily. “I got them. All of them.”

“But why would you lie?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, hugging her knees harder. “I never opened them.”

“Why?”

“I dunno,” another shrug. “I was being dumb. I wanted so badly to cut you out of my life for good. To forget that I ever—” she stopped.

“I know I wasn’t the best of friend in that moment,” he rested a hand on her shoulder. “I’m damn well trying now. I know we can’t get back to where we were before, but I want to at the very least give it a go,” he sat down, gingerly, as to not disturb (Y/N). He pushed his arm to the other shoulder, resting his head atop hers.

“Thank you,” (Y/N) whispered, leaning into his touch, enjoying the embrace.  

“Do you think you could start calling me Neville again? As a step in the right direction?” (Y/N) nodded wordlessly. “Good. I’ve missed it.”

“My father dying…” (Y/N) loosed her grip on her knees, opening up slightly. “Isn’t the only reason we fought.”

“No. I guess not,” Neville knew exactly what she was talking about. He couldn’t find the words to express that day, that argument in full. “ We can pretend it is for now. We should talk about it. Another day,” he smiled lightly.

“Another day,” she repeated. “Neville.”

__

General Tag List: @maralisa124 , @leighxlover , @hey-its-me-rai , @missihart23 , @biatheintrovert , @luna-xxxxx , @chocolaterumble, @why-am-i-sad-and-sleepy , @steve-thotgers

want to be added to a tag list? hmu in the replies or ask box with what characters you’d like to be tagged with!

#neville longbottom #neville longbottom x reader #harry potter x reader #neville longbottom imagine #harry potter #plant boy #neville longbottom x you #it's not great but had to get this shit out of the way fam #oh boy do i have thoughts for these two #burning? slowly you betcha

[rueitae]

Bleeding Out

Read my whumptober collection on Ao3

vampire au!

~~~~~

There is a knock on the door just as Lance finishes polishing the last of the silverware. He calmly puts the spoon in its proper place, in a wooden box between the box of knives and the box of forks. His nose twitches in distaste, surely it wouldn’t be difficult to combine both spoons and forks into the same utensil, then he’d be done with dishes in half the time.

The knock is more insistent the longer he tries to ignore it.

He growls in annoyance. Any other day and he would ignore it. But Pidge hasn’t eaten today and needs her sleep. It’s his job as her butler to make sure her sleep is restful and everything around the house it taken care of before she wakes. 

He straightens his bowtie, and in the interest of letting Pidge sleep, walks much faster than any respectable butler should have to when the knocking only gets louder and more consistent. The villagers have known him for nearly two years now! They know it takes forever to get anywhere in this castle!

As much as he wants to tell them off, it won’t do Pidge any good for him to upset a visitor when he answers the door on her behalf. She needs less attention, not more. 

Taking a deep breath to prepare himself, Lance grabs hold of the twin ring door knobs and pulls.

As he takes a step back and looks up, his eyes threaten to bug out. It seems as though the entire village is there, people lined up with torches all the way across the drawbridge, making a river of fire in this twilight hour. At the front, Mayor Rosen, torch shaking in his hand despite the terrible scowl on his face. Far more concerning to Lance, is at the mayor’s right hand, a darkly clothed man who hides his face behind a mask and a wide brimmed hat. 

Lance raises an eyebrow. “Can I… help you?” he begins, suddenly having a terrible feeling he knows why they’re here. The situation will call on every charm he has. “Supper was hours ago, and I’m afraid I didn’t cook enough for everyone.”

“No need for niceties, young man,” Rosen says with varying pitch. “You’re safe now, we’re only here for the vampire.”

Oh. It takes all of Lance’s willpower not to wince. This is exactly what he feared. He’d warned Pidge something like this might happen! She’d even agreed with him! He kicks himself for allowing himself to get distracted by her tangent on electricity at the time. It was his job to keep her on task when they both knew she had a difficult time with that. 

Outwardly, Lance sighs dramatically. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” he tells the mayor. “The only people here are myself and my wife.”

The man in black hisses. “It’s too late to save this one,” he says in a raspy voice. “There’s no spell in his eye, he’s willingly in league with her.”

“If that is the only reason why you are here,” Lance interrupts before the mayor can protest. “Then I have nothing to offer you.” He bows, putting a hand on each door knob. He keeps his voice calm, but his heart races, unsure how much longer he can keep himself from a fight. “I bid you all a good night.”

He moves to close the door.

The man in black stops him.

Calloused hand grip the collar under his tie, and Lance grits his teeth.

“I will not leave until the vampire is turned to ash,” the man promises darkly. 

A burning flame ignites in his heart and Lance drops all pretense. “Don’t you touch her,” he utters, each syllable dripping with anger. He drops a pen from his sleeve, a brilliant device Pidge made for him, and without needing to look flips it into a thin knife and stabs the man in the chest.

The vampire hunter’s eyes widen and Lance huffs, though he’s relieved that once again he’s been taken for granted. Easier to protect Pidge that way when he can surprise an assailant, something he’d learned from her. 

But the surprise doesn’t last long. The hunter’s eyes shine with pity - for Lance. 

“May your soul find peace,” he says.

Suddenly Lance’s stomach feels tight and cold. His breath hitches and despite knowing, dreading what he’ll see, he looks down to see the sword run through him. 

His knees weaken. It can’t… he can’t stop here. Pidge is still asleep. If they get through him they’ll get to her. He wouldn’t be able to rest in peace if he allowed that to happen. 

So he flicks the switch on his pen as he falls to his knees. The knife elongates inside the hunter’s body, ripping through any tissue it came across. Lance smirks as the hunter chokes up blood, relaxing with the knowledge Pidge will be safe. 

Mayor Rosen backs up, trembling in fear. “We’re doomed! Run! Before the vampire kills us all!” 

In his haste, he drops his torch, setting ablaze the hallway carpet. Screams and shouts of panic from the crowd fill the air. Splashes count those who fall off the drawbridge into the moat below.

Without warning, the hunter draws his sword. Lance gasps and collapses to the floor, clutching the acute stinging sensation of his wound. On the other side of the growing flames, the hunter cackles.

“The vampire will know pain,” he says gleefully. “No longer will she have her precious food source. She will have to hunt, and then my brethren will corner her and uh--”

Lance sees only glowing green eyes and a dark shadow before the hunter’s throat is ripped out of him. 

When the hunter’s body falls into the fire, Pidge stands before him with the most terrified eyes that have settled back into their usual amber color. Blood rims her open mouth and drips from her fangs onto what has already been splattered over her white nightgown.

“Lance! H-hold on!” she cries, stumbling towards him in the most ungraceful way.

He forces a smile for her, dropping his head into her shoulder as she effortlessly scoops him into her arms. It’s so warm in here, and with each passing second Lance feels more and more like having a nap. “Aw Pidge, look at what you went and did. It’s going to take forever to get the stains out.”

Pidge inhales sharply, lips wobbling and eyes shining with tears. “You idiot,” she says, though he knows she doesn’t really mean it. “I’m going to get you healed, don’t you dare fall asleep.”

“Of course, Mistress,” he chuckles. The portraits along the wall move by when he looks past Pidge’s face, the only indication she’s carrying him. He can’t feel much anymore. 

She glares at him. “This is no time to be cute, Lance.” The glare morphs quickly back to frightened eyes. “You’re… your stomach is… the smell of your blood is overwhelming.”

“I thought--” he coughs, something soft and liquidy caught in his throat, “som’tin delisc--”

He blinks. 

Softness envelops his world. Pidge is sitting over him, breathing heavily and looking terrified. Their location has changed - he knows her bedroom better than any in the house. The four-post bed is shrouded in the light purple linens and the fluffy white sheets pool up around him. Pidge’s most precious items, the picture of her family and her brother’s glasses lay untampered with on the dresser through the parted drapes and across the room. The open window brings the smell of burning wood and fibers from below - and a hint of metal? Perhaps the vases are melting. 

“Lance?”

Pidge’s voice is so soft he almost can’t believe it’s her. His brow furrows as he realizes he doesn’t feel pain from his wound he’s just… 

Just tired. 

His head rolls to the side, eyes fixed on the woman whom he’d befriended on a whim and she’d in turn whisked him away on an adventure, and whom he now gladly calls his wife.

She a vampire and he a human notwithstanding. 

Pidge examines him with concern, just as she would right before attempting a carefully prepared experiment. “How are you feeling?” she asks quietly, almost timidly. 

“I feel like I was swept down the river and spit out by a waterfall,” he says with a moan. 

Pidge takes a trembling hand and holds his cheek. Lance leans into the gentle warmth, humming in contentment. “G-good. I—“ she bites her lip, and stares at him. “You’ll need time to recover, but I think we should leave as soon as possible.”

Lance grins despite himself. “Finally going to introduce me to your parents?”

She glares at him, though Lance is glad to see an expression other than worry. 

“The villagers will return with a more dangerous foe if we do not,” she clarifies. “The fire will burn all evidence we were here. I’ve warded the room, we’ll be safe here we’re ready to leave.”

Restlessness stirs in his heart. This place has everything that makes Pidge happy - her lab, seclusion, and view of the most gorgeous sunsets on partially cloudy evenings. “I will protect you, Pidge,” he says seriously. “That’s why you let me stay.”

Pidge shakes her head. “That’s not necessary.”

“We may be married, but I am still your tool, to use however you see fit,” he recites the words he gave her on their wedding day - just the two of them and a handful of friends and family.

“You’re not-- that’s a cover, you know that.” She leans down, and the gentle kiss she places on his forehead makes him smile, feeling more relaxed than he has in ages. “You’re my husband first,” her voice wavers, “and it’s my job to protect you too.” 

Lance smirks. “And I’m thankful every single day that I’m with you. Give me a few days rest and my blood will have replenished itself and you can have yourself a little snack.” In more ways than one, he winks and flashes her his most suggestive grin. 

Finally, to Lance’s relief, Pidge snorts. Though her eyes still shine with tears, he’s at least got a smile out of her. “You are such a child,” she teases.

Lance rolls his eyes, laughing himself. Of course a vampire as old as she would consider a mortal like him a child. “I’ll have you know I haven’t been a child for nearly a decade now.”

“An infant compared to the hundreds of years I’ve existed,” Pidge chuckles, childishly flopping next to him on the bed. Leaning her forehead into his shoulder, she sighs. “I’m so relieved that you're okay. You really scared me.”

He places a kiss at the top of her head. “I’m not going anywhere,” he promises. “Rest. Healing took a lot out of you.”

A light snore fills the void between them and Lance lets himself melt into the bed, happy and relaxed. 

She’s right, they will probably have to leave, as much as he hates it. But it would simply be the new chapter in their adventure together and right now, he’ll soak in this moment of peace.

#plance #whumptober2019 #no.23 #bleeding out #pidgance #voltron legendary defender #rueitae #vld pidge #vld lance #vampire au #blood #gore #vampire pidge

[toutallyahoe]

I'll Do It Again

Requested By: --

Pairing/s: (Obssesed/Possessive) Jim Moriarty x [Name] [Last name]

A/N: It's called murder baby~

Also, I do love a good murderous angst.

─────────────────

Harsh pants left her smeared red lipsticked lips as she ran through the rundowned halls of the large building. Not a person on sight other than some of the lights flickering eerily like in the horror movies, creating the feeling of dread and horror as the female continue to ran. Her lungs burned for air as she wanted to stop and take a breather but can't. Her feet-- already have ditched her heels she had wore earlier ago to not trip and fall, burned from the running she had been doing but she can't afford to stop. Not now, nor ever. She can't. Not after a psychopath is following close behind her, playing this twisted game of a dangerous tag.

No, never will she stop.

The female didn't dare to turn and looked behind her. She didn't dare to check for she is scared. She didn't want to see that psychopath's deranged smile at her.

That smile that just shows how that asshole was enjoying on toying her and causing her fear.

Seeing a door, the female pushed her legs to run faster as she immediately pushed the door open and then closing it. Hurriedly blocking it by a chair to ease her mind that maybe, just maybe it would hold...

Who was she kidding? Of course it wouldn't!

The female looked around in frantic to see where she was.

Storage.

She was in the storage and seeing a large table with clothe covering it, she immediately dived in underneathe the table to hide. Her eyes brimming in tears, her black mascara ruined but she did not gave a single care as she quietly sobbed. She was scared. She was bloody scared for her life. Why her? What did she do to deserve this?

She was Belle Beatrice Darnley for Christ sake! She didn't deserve this, any of this! She wished she could have turned time to have not accept that dinner invitation from that man. From that pyschopath who'll probably kill her when he finds her.

Her breathe hitched when she had heard the sound of heels clanking on the tiled floor, making her know that the psychopath was near where she was. The female shakily clasped her hands on her mouths to try silencing her sobs and cries. She didn't want to draw attention to herself and die. She can't. She won't.

"Oh, Belle~" The said female closed her eyes in fright. Chanting through her mind prayers to whatever God was listening to save her from this nightmare she is currently living. 'Please, please, oh please, someone save me!' Her mind screamed as her body sgake from the fear coursing through her veins.

Belle's eyes immediately opened wide when she heard the door of the storage room where she is creaked open, her hands clasping more tightly to her mouth to silence the heavy sobs trying to escape her lips. Her mind chanting a mantra of pleas that the man wouldn't find her.

"Are you here, dear?" The smooth voice of her killer slice through the thickened air as she bit her bottom lip to not let any sound escape her lips. Her stomach filled with dread and fear as she heard the footsteps of the man walked around the room. Trying to find her as he started to hum a song that she immediately recognized as that old nursery rhyme, "One, two, buckle my shoe". As she continue to listen, the man starting to sing the nursery rhyme but to her absolutely horror--

"One, two... I'm coming for you..."

The lyrics the man had sang was not the original but a twisted version of the nursery rhyme.

"Three, four... better locked the door!" He sang loudly, especially on the "locked your door" part which he seemed to taunt the scared female that was hiding underneath the table, begging for her life on the heavens above. The footsteps that came feom the man coming closer to where she hides which made the female be in such a terrible fright.

"Five, six... grab your crucifix," Belle shut her eyes as she continued to silently pray in her mind. Her lips shut tight and clasped by her hands, tears falling down her eyes while her legs folded onto her chest to make herself into a ball to just hope that the geound will swallow her whole as she continued to listen to the deranged man's singing. "Seven, eight... slit your throat straight."

"Nine, ten... I'll do it again," the had had finished as he hum for awhile until it quiet down. The female in hiding had heard the man's footsteps drawing away from her place as she visibly relaxed when she heard the door creaked open then closed when the man had gotten out from the storage.

Belle did not want to get out from her hiding place thought as she just sat there underneath the table, slowly unclasping her hands away from her mouth as she took a heavy inhale then exhaled. Her hands going to her chest where her heart was as she felt her frightened beating heart. The female tried to calm herself, thinking it was alright if she just stayed underneath the table for a bit, maybe an hour or two until she thinks that man finally left the building so she could escape.

As Belle tried to calm herself down, something vibrated on her jean's pocket. Her eyes widened for a moment as she shakily went to grabbed whatever was vibrating only to see that it was her phone.

She had a phone.

My Jove, she actually forgotten about that fact but from her fear, she had forgotten she had a phone. Maybe she could call someone for help now. As she opened her phone and was about to type in a number to help her out of this nightmare, the screen switched to someone calling her.

(07)353 121976

Incoming call

The number was unfamiliar to her but she had to accept. Maybe this person can call the police to help her. Shakily, the female pressed the green button to receive the call as she then put the phone to her ear to her this person and was about to speak when she heard them say,

"Oh Belle, you think you can really hide from the big bad wolf?"

The female froze. She sat frozen as her eyes widen in horror. No, no, no, no, no! This must be a joke! A big fat cruel joke!

The man through the phone laughed at her as the female let out quiet whimpers leaving her lips. "P-please," sher cried to the phone. "p-please let me go!" She only received a chuckle at her pleas.

"Oh Belle, you really are such a pathetic pig, aren't you?" The man had said. Belle swore she can feel the smug smile on that face of his as she cried. She didn't want to die. She didn't want to!

"One, two, I'm coming for you," she heard him sang that rhyme again through the phone as she whimpered and sobbed.

"Three, four, better locked the door," she heard the door creaked again as the man's footsteps neared while the door was loudly slammed shut, to taunt her that he was in the very room she was hiding on.

Click

Clack

Click

"Five, six, grab your crucifix," he sang to the phone. The female could hear him getting nearer , and nearer from where she was.

Click

Clack

Click

"Seven, eight, it's far too late," He changed the lyrics again and this time, he was reminding her. It was far too late to run or hide. Belle could only sob as she tried to push herself back to try and hide herself as the man continued to walk towards her hiding place.

Click

Click

Clack

Suddenly, the footsteps stopped as the female whimpered. The phone still she grasped tightly on her hand, still on her ear for her to hear each of every word that left the deranged man's lips.

"Oh Belle," she heard through the phone. Her heart beating erratically inside her chest as her body shake in fright. 'Please, please for the love of God, save me!' She screamed through her thoughts as the clothe that was covering the table she was hiding was yanked away, making her be seen by the psychopath who was crouching down to see her face twist into horror, holding the phone onto his ear as a large smile formed on his lips. His eyes gleaming with insanity as he watched the female fearing him.

Belle dropped the phone as she tried to get out from underneath the table as she cried and scream bloody murder. "Get away from me!" The female screamed as she crawled out the table in frantic and immediately stood up and bolted to the door where she grabbed the handle and twist it to open but to her horror, it was locked. "No, no, no, no, NO, NO, NO!!!" The female screamed as she bang her fist on the door and screamed to let her out to anyone from outside that was holding the door locked. "Please! Please let me out!" Belle screamed as she cried.

"PLEASE!!!" She cried as the man behind her merely let out a loud laugh at her wails and cries as he stood up and ended the call. Putting the phone on her pocket as he then grabbed a rusty metal pipe ontop of the table and turned to look at the crying female. "Oh Belle~" he purred out as he slowly approuched the female who had began to loudly bang her fist more in a desperate attempt to have someone hear her as she pleaded for the door to be open.

It did. The door slided open as the female had fallen onto the floor. Letting a cry in pain as she looked behind her and started to desperately crawl away.

"Oh, Belle..." The man mused as he was finally behind her and raised the metal pipe on top of his head, a grin on his lips as he watched the female tey to run away from him. "Nine, ten!" He sang as the female sobbed.

"PLEASE! LET ME LIVE!!! PLEA--"

Swoosh

Crack

Thud

The man still had that sick grin on his lips as he looked at the body of the female he hat brutally hit with the metal pipe on the head. Her head obviously was damaged from the crimson liquid slowly oozing out and painting her blonde hair red. A laugh left his lips as he raised the pipe again and then smaling it onto her head again and again, and again.

"I'll do it again!"

Smack

"I'll do it again!"

Smack

"I'll do it again!"

Smack

Smack

Smack

He repeated chanting and hitting the female's head open as he laughed. This was exhilarating! Smashing her head one last time, the man then looked at the metal pipe that was already painted with the blood, then back at Belle's corpse. Her head smashed open with blood and pieces of her brain layed on the bloodied floor, her body just sprawled there which made him laugh. Throwing the bloodied pipe into a corner as he took a handkerchief out from his his suit's pocket and wiping his face from bits of blood and then his hands as he looked proud at his work.

This pig, Belle Beatrice Darnley, is gone. Finally gone.

"Sebastian, can you please get the kerosene and lighter? I wanna burn her," he said as he didn't even turn to the said man he had ordered to get the stuff as he just looked at the female's corpse. Sebastian merely nodded and turn to get the needed items, narrowing his eyes when he heard something but then going back to get the items.

Alone. The man crouched down to inspect the masterpiece he had done to the poor now dead female, leaning closer as the grin never left his lips. "Oh Belle, if only you didn't hurt my darling~ If only you never had him first," he said, as his eyes gleamed with jealousy at the corpse. "He is mine," he spat as he glared at the smashed head. "Mine. Mine. MINE!"

As the man had angrily screamed "mine" like a mantra to the female's corpse, Sebastian came back with the items and looked at his employer with annoyance. Here he goes again with his jealousy...

"Boss, I have the items," he had said as his boss finally stopoed screaming at the corpse like a lunatic as he handed the container filled with kerosene as he watched his boss splash it at the female's body. Emptying the whole container as the man and him then stepped away as his boss gestured for him to light the corpse on fire. And he did.

Turning on the lighter as he flicked it towards the kerosened corpse, Sebastian watch the woman's body engulfed into flames as his boss continue to smile at it.

Bam

The loud sound make the two males immediately turned to the sound only to see an unknown figure running towards the exit. On instincts, Sebastian bolted towards the figure and was catching up in no time as he then tackled the unknown person. The person didn't seem to go down without a fight as he clawed away from Sebastian hold and kicking his legs but the man will have no at that. He was a trained assassin who was working with the most dangerous man in Britain (maybe in the whole world).

"Stay still," the asssassin gtunted as he managed to get the person on a choke hold where this unknown man was trying to claw away from him. "It'll be over before you know it," he whispered as he can finally feel the man slowly weakening from the kack of air. As he continue to choke the unknown person, his boss had finally caught up and when he sww who the man Sebastian was holding, his eyes widen in shock.

"[N-name]?" The said man who was being choked by his assassin. Getting out from his frozen state, he immediately went towards the two and try to pry off Sebastian grip. "Sebatian stop! You fucking idiot!" He cursed out to the assassin who he had slapped which immediately the assassin recoiled as the man he was choking fell to the floor, coughing and gasping for air. Sebasian's boss immediately kneeled down and rubbing the coughing male's back as he apologized and cooed while the assassin looked at the scene with no emotion on his face.

He finally realized who he was choking. [Name] [Last name]... this will not end well for anyone... well, mostly to the said man...

As his boss cooed and apologized to [Name], the [Hair color] haired man softly pushed himself away from the man as he looked at him with horror on his eyes.

"J-Jim," [Name] croaked out as he saw the said man's face that held an apologetic look dissipated when he uttered the next words.

"wha... what have you done?"

"So," Jim had said as he looked at his lover blankly for a moment. "you have saw that, huh?" He had said as the look on the [Hair color] haired man's face already answered his question. Letting out a sigh, he raused his hand to caressed [Name]'s cheek. Unfortunately, the [Hair color] haired man flinched from his touch and backed away, causing for him to frown.

"G-get away from me," [Name] had choked out as he backed away more from the derange man who killed his ex-lover. "Y-your not the Jim I love!"

Those words made Jim's heart ache. Like a sharp knife piercing onto his heart as he watched his lover looked at him in horror and fear. Jim wanted to come near the [Hair color] haired man but it seems the latter didn't want to be near him. "[Name], darling," he started but the said man just shake his head and looked at him with tears on his eyes.

"N-no," [Name] cried. "D-dont call me darling..." he continued to cry as he looked at Jim in betrayal. Jim could only sigh as he stood up. "Y-you killed her... you k...you killed Belle..." he said in horror as he finally realized that the female he used to love was dead. That sentence did made a small flicker of annoyance on the other man though as he looked [Name] dead in the eyes.

"Yes, and I'll do it again if I had too," Jim had said as he took a step closer to the [Hair color] haired male. His eyes soften as a small smile formed on his lips. "Because you are mine." [Name] could only flinch at his words. This was not his Jim...

"Y-you... who are you?" The [Hair color] haired had asked as Jim could only look at him with a hint of sadness in his eyes.

"I'm Jim," he had said. His answered made [Name] a bit angered as he shake his head. "No! No your not!" He shouted. Despite feeling fear and utter betrayal, this man dared call himself Jim? The Jim he loved? No, this man was not the man he loved. This was not his Jim. This was a psychopath.

"Tell me the truth! Who are you!" He shouted as Jim could only sigh. "I am Jim... the real Jim that is."

"W-what?" The [Hair color] haired male had msutered to choke out through his frozen state. "W-what do you mean?" He asked as he looked at the man standing before him. "It means, I am Jim. Jim Moriarty that is...," Jim had replied.

"B-but you said you were Jim. Jim Moore..." [Name] said confused as he gripped his hair in frsutration. "Jim.. Jim... Moriarty... Moore... w-was... who is Jim Moore?!?" He asked in anger as Jim looked at him with sadness. "Jim Moore?" He asked as he then continued. "He was nothing more than an illusion... I'm sorry," he apologized in the end as he looked at the assassin who kept quiet through out this conversation of his with his lover and nodded.

The assassin nodded back aswell as he took out something behind him and crouched down behind the [Hair color] haired male who was processing on what Jim had said a moment ago.

Jim Moore was nothing?

The man he loved was nothing but an illusion? This has to be a joke. A sick cruel joke... right?

As the [Hair color] haired man still try to get his head figured out, Sebastian was finally behind him and immediately took a hold on him while putting a white clothe on his nose and lips.

"HMPH!!!" Back to reality, [Name] struggked on the assassin grip as he tried to not breathe the chemicaks of chloroformed clothe but when his lungs was burning and screaming for air, he breathed onto the clothe and after a few minutes, he went limp. Indicating that he was knocked out on the assassin's hold as Sebastian cautiously took away the white clothe from the [Hair color] haired man's nose and mouth

After checking if [Name] was finalky knocked out, Sebastian turned to look at his boss who stood there looking blankly at the body knocked out on his arms.

After a minute or two, Jim abruptly began to walk towards then as he then kneeled when he was closer and softly caressed the unconscious male's cheek with adoration gleaming through his eyes. "Oh [Name]..." Jim softly said to the unconscious male. Sebastian could only watch and kept quiet as his thought went back to what he had thought earlier when he realize who he was choking to.

This did not end end well for any of them.

#bbc sherlock #bbc moriarty #bbc jim moriarty #bbc james Moriarty #james Moriarty #jim moriarty #james moriarty x male reader #bbc james moriarty #sherlock james Moriarty #jim moriarty x male reader #sherlock jim Moriarty #jim Moriarty x male reader #james Moriarty x male reader #moriarty #moriarty x male reader #x male reader #male reader insert #obsessed jim Moriarty #Sebastian moran #bbc sebastian moran

[mitchsmarners]

SEMI CHARMED LIFE | CHAPTER ELEVEN | 2.3K | TEEN |

“You guys have kept in contact this whole time?” Bill asked, brow disappearing underneath hair line as he looked like his old friends in amazement. “And you guys are.. what? Room mates?”

Eddie avoided looking at Richie as he answered. “Yeah, uh… room mates. Something like that.”

[or: the adult!losers reunion, done 2000s sit-com style, just like we all deserve.]

PREVIOUSLY ON SEMI CHARMED LIFE: CUTEST COUPLE. Richie traced his hands over the words, smiling softly as he took in the appearance of himself and Beverly Marsh at fifteen.  Beverly had no idea what took over her in that moment. Her stomach clenched up and she stared at Richie for a moment. She felt as though every possible human emotion that was able to felt was deep in her gut and she didn’t even notice she was moving forward until she was kissing him. “Your response to Richie telling you to be with whoever makes you happy was to kiss him? Kiss Richie?” |  “What future?” Ben laughed angrily.  “What future is that? The one where I sit here in the back corner, making minimum wage for the rest of my life while you take credit for all my ideas and ring in thousands of dollars for doing nothing at all?” Ben reached for the door knob again, letting his hand hover on it until Beverly’s footsteps started and faded away. He sunk down to the floor, pulling his legs up to his chest and pressed his face into knees. |  “I’m glad I found out, you know? I’m glad that I know, and that I’m not stuck being played for a fool anymore. It hurts, of course, I really thought Alexander was the one.”  “We’re not even thirty yet. Most of the people we know from high school are complete messes. Bill got his girlfriend pregnant and now he’s dealing drugs. You’ve got a dream job and a roof over your head. Everything else will come when it’s time.”

“William! Hurry up!” Audra called from the front door, pulling on her purse. She tapped her foot and a rolled her eyes. “We have to leave now if we’re going to make it the doctors on time. You said you wanted to come this time, have you changed your-”

“No, no,” Bill called, rushing into the living room and struggling to slip into his ratty Converse from college.

Audra looked him up and down, and rolled her eyes. “I’ll be downstairs in the cab. I’ll try to get them to wait for you, but the cabbie starts the counter we’re leaving and you can walk.”

Bill watched Audra turn out the door, closing it behind her. Bill sighed, pulling apart the messy lashes that had once been white and were now closer to a sickly grey colour. Just as he moved to leave, he noticed a paper sitting on the top of the stand in the foyer. Bill picked it up, staring at it in confusion for a moment.

It held a lot of numbers  that Bill could only skim over, having less than a little understanding of math. It was the small paragraph in Audra’s writing stapled to the back of the accounting information that caught Bill’s attention.

I want to thank you for everything you’ve done to help me these past few weeks. You’ve really changed my life for the better! It means so, so much to me. I hope we can continue seeing each other.

Bill lowered the letter slowly, frowning deeply at it. Shaking his head as though, he looked at the wooden door of the their apartment and glared at it as though Audra could possibly tell it was happening. Pursing his lips, Bill ripped the personal note off the back of the financial papers and threw it into the garbage as he left the apartment.

→  →  →

“I can’t believe you’re not going to be here.” Eddie grumbled, looking at the whole chicken in front of him as though it had personally insulted his whole family. Richie came up and wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist, dropping his chin onto Eddie’s shoulder. He pressed a kiss to his husband’s cheek, drawing a small, half-happy hum from Eddie’s lips.  

“I won’t be gone the whole time,” Richie reminded him. “I’ll probably be back before she even gets here. Even if I’m not, it won’t be long. I’ll run over to Mike’s, pick up the girls, and we’ll be here in no time. You’ll only have to do a little bit of buffering for us.”

“I know,” Eddie sighed glumly, turning around in Richie’s embrace and pouting up at him. “I just wish that the buffer time didn’t have to be entirely making dinner. I’m a terrible cook, and you know it.”

Richie laughed, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Eddie’s forehead. “That is not true. Frankie is very fond of your cooking.”

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie rolled his eyes, though a smile tugged at his lips. “I’ve gotten really good at mac and cheese with microwaved hot dogs.”

Richie raised his eyebrows. “You microwave the hot dogs?”

Eddie made a pitiful noise.

→  →  →

Ben hung little Frankie Kaspbrak upside down, swishing her back and forth like a pendulum, while the child shrieked with laughter. Mike looked up from where he was feeding Marty and smiled. “You know, you’re really good with her. You ever think about having kids, Ben?”

“Bev doesn’t want to have kids,” Ben responded immediately before his face contorted up in pain. Ben dropped little Frankie onto the couch, then sat down beside him. He sighed slowly, shaking his head regretfully at himself, while he stared angrily down at his hands. Mike kept Marty close to his chest, coming to sit beside Ben. Frankie immediately moved from where she’d been resting on the couch to crawl into Mike’s lap. He took one girl in each arm and looked at his troubled friend.

“I know this is the last thing you want to hear,” Mike said, seeing how Ben stiffened. “But I really think you aren’t going to feel any better until you talk to Beverly. In some way or another, you’ve had feelings for her since we were in the seventh grade and-”

“And she’s always liked somebody else more than me,” Ben responded a little sharply, squeezing his eyes shut. “Whether it was Bill or Richie or somebody else, it wasn’t ever me. And that was okay, because she was still the Bev I knew, that I loved. And because if it was never me, then I couldn’t really be getting hurt. But then it was me… for a little while, until it wasn’t me again. I don’t know how to look at her anymore.”

Mike wasn’t sure even how much Ben Hanscom knew about what happened with Beverly last week, but God knows his only personal experience knew that pushing Ben to have any conversation with Bev right now wouldn’t do anybody any good. Mike sighed, and decided to let the one sore subject drop. “So, what are you going to do? About your job?”

“I’m going to have to find something temporary, or I’m going to lose my apartment.” Ben admitted, looking over at baby Marty. He smiled softly at the little Kaspbrak baby, waving at her. Marty let out a little gurgly giggle, reaching out and grabbing at Ben’s fingers. Ben let out a small happy laugh. “Do you think Eddie and Richie would mind if I kept her?”

“Yes.” Mike said with a laugh. “Eddie would break your knee caps.”

“That’s fine,” Ben chuckled. “I could go on disability then, and not worry about anything for awhile. Except the pain in my knees, but I’m sure that will happen anyway with time.”

Mike laughed, then let out a small gasp. “Ben, do you like dogs?

→  →  →

“And if you look here…” The ultrasound technician pointed to the black screen.

“Wow…” Bill leaned in a little closer, hardly able to see the white movement on the screen. It didn’t matter what that he could barely see it, he could feel it in his gut. That was his baby, a baby that only in a few months would come out and become the first step to Bill Denbrough’s family. The start of his life, his and Audra’s life.

The letter came flooding forward in his mind, and nerves bubbled back up alongside the already growing love for that tiny baby. Swallowing slightly, Bill laser focused on his unborn baby so that he wouldn’t look at Audra and have his mood ruined.

“And I can let you know the gender-” The tech told them, beginning to put the machine away.

“Oh no,” Audra said, sitting on slightly and resting on her elbow. Bill looked over to her, letter flashing before his eyes, and frowned. “We don’t want to know the gender. As long as we have a happy and healthy baby, that’s what matters.”

Bill frowned deeper, imagining a baby room with ugly yellow walls and a baby shower with neutral coloured clothes. No little dresses for a girl, no baseball hats with his little baby son. “Actually-”

“Alright,” the doctor said happily, speaking right over Bill’s attempted argument. “We’ll still be having regular appointments for the rest of your pregnancy, so if at any point in time you change your mind, just let me know.”

“Actually-” Bill attempted to speak up again, but Audra rushed over him once again.

“Absolutely, but we’re firm on this decision.”

Bill huffed angrily, and leaned back in his seat with his arms crossed.

→  →  →

Richie looked Beverly over as he came into the diner. She looked terrible, her red haired was greasy and matted to her head, and her uniform was stained and dirty. There were deep circles under her eyes, and Richies stomach tensed slightly. There was still a small part of Richie that wanted to make things okay for her again, but he squared up his shoulders and moved forward. He knew what he had to do here, and it wasn’t comfort Beverly Marsh.

“Thanks for meeting me,” Beverly said, voice sounding rough and ragged. Richie pursed his lips and walked past his friend, taking a seat the table closest to them. Beverly sighed softly, looking around the empty building before sitting across from him.

“I want to apologize for kissing you,” Beverly said. “It was wrong, I know. I never should have done it. It was a terrible decision, and I never would have done it if I’d been in the right mind but everything had been just dramatic that night and-”

“You think I’m mad because you kissed me?” Richie asked incredulously.

“I, no, I know that…” Beverly floundered, looking at him with wide eyes.

“No, Beverly. You don’t get it.” Richie said, reaching up to pinch the brim of his nose. Beverly’s mouth dropped open slightly, then she frowned slightly. “I’m not mad that you kissed me. It’s… not great, yeah. I’m mad about how you spoke to my husband, in front of our children. I still can’t believe you pulled that shit.”

“I don’t know why I said that to him,” Beverly said, wrapping her hands tighter around her hot mug of tea. “I shouldn’t have said.”

“You shouldn’t have thought it.” Richie said sharply. He inhaled deeply, remembering his promise to himself that he wasn’t going to yell at her. “As though… what, Bev? As though you have some sort of claim on me? Rights to me? Or that Eddie does? I don’t belong to anybody! I’m not a necklace, I can’t be stolen.”

“Oh, Richie,” Beverly laughed lightly, shaking her head. “Don’t get all hung up on that. You know it’s not as bad as you’re making it seem. I don’t think Eddie stole you from me, obviously.”

“Good.” Richie said angrily, leg bouncing underneath the table. “Because I didn’t cheat on you. I would never cheat on somebody.”

Beverly pursed his lips. “Is that a snide comment about me still being married and being with Ben?”

“Or a snide comment about you kissing me while you were with Ben,” Richie said cheerfully, sipping at his tea shortly. “Take your pick of what you think is worse.”

“Look, Richie, I don’t need you to tell me I fucked up!” Beverly whined. She pushed her cup away and leaned across the table, resting her hands on top of Richie’s. “I don’t want to be with you, Richie. I definitely don’t want to break up your family. I’m so happy for you and Eddie, even if-”

“Stop.” Richie pulled his hands away. “Why do you always have to do that? Why can’t you just say a nice thing and apologize? Why do you always have to top it off with something fucking offensive and self entitled?”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say!” Beverly cried, shaking her head indignantly.

“I imagine it was going to be something about us dating in high school,” Richie responded, equally angry. “Maybe tossing in something fucking insulting about Eddie, maybe something vaguely homophobic, with the notion that you and I would have somehow ended up together as though I didn’t dump your ass of my own free will.”

Beverly’s mouth dropped open but Richie ran right over her potential words. “No. Shut up. Talking only seems to make things worse for yourself. I broke up with you almost fourteen years ago. Not because I liked Eddie, not even because I was questioning liking boys. I broke up with you, because I didn’t like you anymore. My relationship with you was over, and it didn’t overlap with my relationship with Eddie. They’re not connected. They are not exclusive, you do not get to act as though you’re owed a goddamn thing. Even if I had fallen in love with Eddie, I still wouldn’t have been in love with you.”

Beverly’s mouth was still hanging open as Richie pushed away from the table. Yeah. He’d broken his promise, but sometimes it was hard to keep emotions inside. He’d stepped back and let Eddie take the lead at home with Beverly, but he’d had his own- different- bones to pick with his ex-girlfriend. He walked out of the diner, tugging his jacket around his shoulders then strolled to a stop.

Eddie was coming down the street slowly and Richie picked up the pace to meet him. “Hey, Eds. Sorry that took longer than I expected, is my mom already here-”

Richie got a better look at his husband then, the paleness of his face, the redness of his eyes and the streaks of tears on his cheeks. Richie rushed forward, resting his hands on Eddie’s shoulders and bending slightly to look Eddie straight in the eyes. “Baby, what happened? Are you okay?”

“Chee…” Eddie said sadly, bringing out the nickname he hadn't used in a good ten years and shaking his head slightly. “Elii called, she…. There was an incident with the plane. When it uh… when it started going down, I guess the air pressure or something…” Eddie pursed his lips and took in a long, shaky breath. “Maggie, she… She had a stroke. They were still in the air and the airline medic can only do so… she didn’t make it. I’m so sorry, baby.”

Richie felt like he’s been tossed into a tub of pure ice, his entire body going numb. He blinked and opened his mouth slightly, taking in the sight of his tearful husband watching him fearfully. Richie cleared his throat. “My mom’s dead?”

Eddie let out a pitiful sob, taking those few final steps to press himself up against Richie’s chest. Richie felt as Eddie’s tears wet his shirt, but he barely contained the motor function to bring his arms up and wrap them around him.

#reddie #reddie fic #benverly #benverly fic #my writing #scl tag #this is GARBAGE #but i need to set up the rest of the fic :D. #so ily #please read it

[shownuslaugh]

Stay With Me (Part 2)

Kim Shin wasn’t always the Goblin. He was once a man, flesh and blood, just like everyone else. He was a General who loved King and Country. A General who loved even when he wasn’t supposed to.

Her name was Wang Hyo, sister to the King and a cruel joke forced upon Kim Shin. She was his original curse and his original punishment; however, fate has a sick sense of humor. Right as they truly found each other, they were pulled apart forever.

He loved her, he lost her, he won’t do that again.

Present day

             The rain is heavy as Kim Shin walks through the crowded street. Children laugh and shriek, jumping in puddles to splash their friends while adults look on with bemused smiles, shaking their heads at the antics. Everything is as it should be. Everyone is happy. Then why is it raining? Shouldn’t he be soothed by the joy and companionship around him? Shouldn’t he be at peace watching the world around him? He knows he wants to be. He knows he can’t bring himself to be.

             So he keeps walking.

             He walks until he’s fairly certain the soles of his shoes are wearing thin. He walks until he’s been through the buckwheat field that used to belong to them. He walks until the rain turns to drizzle, which in turn changes to a distant rumbling of thunder. He walks until he’s at the dam, watching the waves crash against the shore, listening to the rain pick back up once more.

             This was one of her favorite spots.

             It looks different now, having gone through years of human destruction and recreation.

             Kim Shin thinks he can still catch the scent of her perfume on the breeze.

             “What are you doing here, Mister?”

             He’s pulled from his thoughts by a young girl no more than eighteen. She looks at him with wide, tear filled eyes, and he’s taken aback by her nerve.

             “What?”

             “How long have you been listening to me?”

             “I wasn’t-” Shin straightens his shoulders and looks down at the girl. “What makes you think I was listening to you? I didn’t even know you were here.”

             She eyes the flowers in his hand. “Did your girlfriend not show up, Mister?”

             He hides the flowers he doesn’t even remember picking up. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

             “So she didn’t. Are you going to go look for her?”

             “No!” He answers too quickly, too abruptly. The girl’s eyes narrow at his outburst and he hopes she’ll just drop the conversation. Mark him as a crazy man and move on.

             “I think you should. Even if it’s just to yell at her for standing you up.” She tilts her head to the side in an attempt to look around him. “But, Mister, you should get better flowers than those.”

             Shin’s mouth falls open in exasperation. “These are perfectly good!”

             “They’re ugly. Do they even have a meaning?”

             Shin hesitates before saying, “lovers.”

             The girl nods sagely, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth. “There are prettier flowers with better meanings.”

             “Like what,” he demands. Shin puts his hands on his hips and taps his foot impatiently when she doesn’t respond right away. “Well?”

             “I’m thinking!” She looks off at the horizon for no other reason than to avoid his heavy gaze. “Oh! What about lisianthus flowers?”

             Shin repeats the word incredulously. “This kid,” he mutters to himself.

             “Fine, don’t take my advice, Mister! Give your girlfriend those ugly flowers and see what happens!” She folds her arms over her chest. “She’ll dump you, that’s what’ll happen!”

             “She wouldn’t dare!”

             “Not if you give her better flowers!”

             “What do lisianthus flowers even mean, since you’re such an expert on romance?”

             The girl’s expression shifts from fierce to sheepish in the blink of an eye. “Unchanging love.”

             Shin goes quiet.

900 years ago

             He’s summoned to her room the next morning before the sun has even thought of coming up. The sky is still pitch black, the stars shining brilliantly on the palace, illuminating his path through the garden. He hasn’t even been standing outside her room for half a second when one of her handmaidens dashes out, pulling him inside by the elbow. His eyes adjust to the flickering candlelight quickly.

             “You asked for me, Your Majesty?” Shin takes the seat offered to him by another handmaiden who also pours him a cup of tea. The steam wafts up to his face, carrying the delicate sent of lavender and honey.

             “I’m sure we’re both on the same page about this marriage,” she says without looking up from her book.

             Shin’s lips quirk up in an amused smile. “I’m on page thirty four, what about you?”

             She puts the book down. Her face is smooth, emotionless, but he can see the amusement in her eyes. “Seventy seven.”

             “Ah, so we aren’t on the same page after all.” He leans in, folding his hands on top of the table separating them. “Hyo, we know each other well enough by now. Maybe this marriage won’t be for love, but we both understand what’s required of us.”

             “If it were up to me I’d spend the rest of my days alone.”

             “I know.”

             Hyo finally, finally looks at him. Shin isn’t quite sure if it’s the candles playing a trick, but he swears a light in her eyes seems to flicker as she watches him carefully. His mind seems suddenly hazy. All he can think about is not wanting her to look away for even a second. All he can think about is reaching across the table and pressing the tips of his fingers to her cheek. Is this what being bewitched feels like? Was his mother right about Hyo after all? Has she cast some dark spell on him, turning his mind so all he can think of is her?

             No, that can’t be it.

             Hyo blinks and the moment is gone.

             “I know I irritate you, Shin,” she says. “I know you think I’m just another spoiled royal, and maybe that’s true.”

             Shin hums, sitting back in his seat. “I feel like there’s a but coming.”

             “But I need you right now.” Hyo looks around, eyeing her handmaidens curiously. “We need each other. I’m sure you understand why without me having to spell it out for you. You may be a brute, but you’re intelligent.”

             She’s right. Shin knows exactly what she’s getting at. They both have siblings they need to protect, and going along with Joonghun’s plan might be the only way to ensure their safety.

             “We can do this.” Hyo sounds more like she’s talking to herself now.

             “As you wish.”

Present day

             Ji Eun Tak.

             The name sticks. Shin keeps it stored in the back of his mind for later use. The girl had some nerve standing up to him like that, but he comforts himself with the thought she would’ve ran screaming had she known who- or what- she was really dealing with back there.

             Back there. Hmm.

             He shoves the buckwheat flowers in a nearby trashcan before shoving his hands deep in his pockets. It’s raining harder than ever now. Oh well. Serves her right anyway. The rain should be the least of Ji Eun Tak’s worries. Bratty kid. Of all the disrespectful-

             Kim Shin turns his head to the side as he rounds the corner, making eye contact with a man standing the same height as him.

             “Goblin?” The man is dressed in all black, wide brimmed hat sitting proper on his head. “What’s a goblin doing here?”

             “You Grim Reapers are all the same, aren’t you? Too nosey for your own good.”

             The Grim Reaper blinks once. “Stay out of our business.”

             “You stay out of mine.” With the last word in, Shin continues on with his walk. His day just keeps going from bad to terrible. Between annoying school girls and mouthy grim reapers, he can’t think of a way for things to possibly get worse.

             He should know by now that God is a creative deity.

             “Uncle!” Duk Hwa is there to greet Shin as soon as he walks in the door. “You’re back?”

             “Where else would I be-” Shin tilts his head to the side. “Duk Hwa, who is this?”

             Duk Hwa smiles charmingly. “Oh, him? No one! He’s just-”

             “The person living here,” the Grim Reaper responds. “I’ve just signed a rental agreement.”

             Maybe now you’ll learn some patience, Hyo’s voice whispers to him. The great General Kim Shin, the mighty Goblin, sharing a home with a Grim Reaper. Delightful.

             “Shut up,” Shin growls before walking off to his room.

             Duk Hwa stares in surprise. “I didn’t say anything.”

#goblin imagine #goblin fanfic #kim shin imagine #kim shin fanfic #stay with me masterlist

[aardvark-123]

Gensokyo Festival day 17: Magic

~Magical Girl Warrior Kosuzu and the Dark Mistresses of the Moon~

~Author's Note~

First of all, I'm soooooo sorry this chapter took so long! >_<;; I had loads of work last month between renting out books and getting my flight certificate, and there just wasn't time for me to do any writing. I'm free for the rest of this week, though, and I'll try and get chapter 6 out for you much sooner! Don't wait up, though... ^^'

With regard to the fighting, I'm afraid it's hard for me to describe what large groups of characters are doing at a given time, so I tend to just focus on Kosuzu. Like I promised, though, some more plot happens this time! I think I did it all right, but I'd love to hear what all you wonderful people thought as well. Getting reviews really makes my day, so don't be shy!

Faith_and_Anime, I really had no idea "In the name of the moon, I will punish you!" was somebody's catch phrase in the Outside World. I'm so sorry! If you run into Sailor Moon, please tell her I didn't mean it! >.< I won't make any more stupid mistakes like that, I promise!

~Chapter 5: Tengu's Secret! Dread Sisters Attack!~

"Augh...! Who are you?!" gasped Kosuzu, staring through squinted eyes at the glowing women. "What do you want with us?!"

"Ohohohoho~!" the woman with the wide hat laughed smugly. "Shall we tell them, sister dear?"

"Yes," said the woman with the bow, stiffly and businesslike. "I am Watatsuki no Yorihime, captain of the Lunar Defence Force and leader of rabbits."

"And I am Watatsuki no Toyohime, her partner and mass-destruction weapon~!" tittered the blonde.

As the women's glow dimmed, Kosuzu could make out for the first time what they looked like. Yorihime had silky greyish-purple hair in a long, wide ponytail tied up with a big yellow bow, and her eyes were the colour of smoky quartz, but darker. She was wearing a reddish-brown dress, belted tight around her slender waist, with a pearly-white shirt component on top. Her shoes were small and red.

Toyohime's blonde hair was long and glossy. Her eyes were a beautiful shade of topaz. She wore a bluish-purple shirt-dress much like her sister's, and on her head was a broad-brimmed white hat with a small pink bow on the right side. Her boots were blue.

"The Lunar Defence Force?! You must be from from the moon!" gasped Reimu, her red eyes wide with shock.

"Correct," said Yorihime. "We have come to claim the Earth."

The heroines all gasped as one. Claim the Earth? How could she?!

"Now, hold on! You can't just come here and take whatever you want!" shouted Aya, her elegant black eyebrows arched in anger.

"Oh, but we can~!" laughed Toyohime, brandishing her orange fan. "We Lunarians are so much better than you, there is no point in us asking for permission~. I could kill you all in seconds, as could my sister~!"

"She speaks the truth," said Yorihime emotionlessly. "None of you can resist us." The heroines shared some worried looks amongst each other.

"Are they really that powerful?" said Kosuzu worriedly, her face creased with worry. "Even their moon rabbits were strong! What would the woman who trained them be like?!"

"You're right," said Aya fearfully. "Lunarians are fierce! I heard their only weakness is to freshly-picked chrysanthemums."

"C'mon, sisters, we can take 'em!" growled Marisa, doing a fist-pump with her short, strong-looking left arm. "I ain't afraid of no prissy Lunarian, ze! We'll show 'em!"

"Marisa's right. There are four of us, aren't there? We can do this!" Reimu pointed out, drawing her wand and striding towards the sisters. "In the name of Gensokyo and the Dragon God! Charge!"

Reimu charged at the Lunarians. Aya, Marisa and Kosuzu followed her with their weapons ready. They knew it was going to be a hard fight, but they had to pull through for their friends and families back home...

-+=+-+=+-o0~0o-+=+-+=+-

Akyuu was feeling nervous as she crept through the dank, scary cave. Her colourful dress seemed like it was in sepia tones in the soft orange light of her torch. There were clusters of stalacmites on the floor, so she had to be careful not to stub her poor little toes.

"Is it much further?" whispered Akyuu.

"Not long now," whispered Mamizou, her brown hair shaking as she ducked under a pointy grey stalagtite. "We should be somewhere under Youkai Mountain."

"Youkai Mountain?!" gasped Akyuu in amazement.

"That's right," confirmed Mamizou. "I don't understand it any more than you do, but if the tunnel leads this way, it leads this way... Oh, what's this? I think I see a light up ahead!"

The duo cautiously spelunked towards the light. It grew brighter and brighter as they headed through the cave, until they could tell it was shining through the gaps in a wooden trap door.

"Golly..." breathed Akyuu. "I wonder where this leads!"

"Well, let's find out!" said Mamizou, pushing through the trap door. Akyuu waited patiently as she watched the tanuki's legs disappear upwards.

"How is it?" called Akyuu a few seconds later.

"It's safe! You'd better come up here!" replied Mamizou.

Akyuu climbed the ladder and emerged into a bright, airy room. She could see a cluttered writing desk covered in paper and clutter, and a faint smell of lavender was wafting through the house. Warm sunlight was diffusing through the paper walls all around her.

"Who could live here?" pondered Akyuu, her beautiful amethyst eyes clouded with confusion. She moved over to the writing desk and picked up a random piece of paper.

Dear Aya,

There is much you have yet to learn of the world, but right now I have one important piece of information to deliver to you. Lunarians can be disabled easily by brushing fresh chrysanthemums against their skin.

Yours sincerely,

Imoyikust on Otokim

"Gosh!" cried Mamizou, her brow furrowing. "This is interesting... Aya has an informant telling her about the Lunarians!"

"Yes, but whom?" said Akyuu worriedly.

"Imoyikust on Otokim..." pondered Mamizou. "Who could that be? The name does not sound familiar, but I feel like..."

Akyuu gasped. "Mamizou, It's 'Tsukiyomi no Mikoto' backwards!"

"Oh, no!" cried Mamizou. "But that means...!"

"He could have been feeding Aya false information!"

-+=+-+=+-o0~0o-+=+-+=+-

Yorihime lifted her gleaming silver sword and hacked at Kosuzu. Kosuzu gripped her Divine Staff in both hands and deflected the blow, but the impact made her stagger. She desperately did a backflip, avoiding a swipe from Yorihime's sword by inches.

"Let's see how you like this!" said Kosuzu fiercely, aiming her staff at Yorihime. "Guarding Sign: Lance of Heaven!"

Kosuzu's staff fired a beam of golden light at Yorihime, making her yelped as it hit her right in the stomach. Kosuzu somersaulted forwards, her strawberry-blonde hair fanning out in the air, and gave Yorihime a painful bonk on the head.

"Ow!" cried Yorihime, breaking her not-emotional facade for the first time since she'd arrived. "Confound you...!" she added, readying her sword. "Lunar Sign: Moon Twilight Flash!"

Kosuzu braced herself as the crescent-shaped blade of silvery moonlight flashed towards her. She jumped over the attack. "Too slow, Yorihime!"

Yorihime smirked.

"Eh?..." said Kosuzu, then the Twilight Flasher swung around and hit her right in the small of her back! Kosuzu screamed and fell to her knees in terrible pain.

"Don't you realise you're dealing with somebody a cut above the rest?" said Yorihime proudly. "My attacks are too powerful for you, weakling, and those three idiots stand no chance against my sister. Give up now!"

"Give up...?" The idea was horrifying for Kosuzu. "Never! All of my friends are counting on me!"

Kosuzu rose angrily to her feet, fighting through the pain. She knew the time for being gentle was over. It was time to unleash her ultimate attack.

"Forgive me, Yukari..." murmured Kosuzu, taking aim with her staff. "Just this once, I must use the power I swore never to use." Her eyes were shining with determination. "Heart Sign: Light of the Universe!"

A beam of bright light exploded outwards from the staff. Yorihime staggered backwards as it washed over her skin. When the light cleared, she was sprawled out on the ground gasping for breath.

"Now's our chance!" shouted Aya, running towards Yorihime with a bunch of sweet-smelling purple chrysanthemums in hand. "This ought to fix her. Eat flowers!"

Aya brushed Yorihime's nose with the chrysanthemums. She wrinkled her nose and sneezed, then she jumped up and stabbed Aya through the heart!

"Aaaaaaargh!" screamed Aya, clutching at her chest as blood leaked out and stained her dress dark red. "No! I-I was so sure the chrusanthemums would work!"

"You assume too much," said Yorihime smugly, licking the blood off her sword. Her tongue was long and pink and slightly pointy at the end. "I believe my sister will be able to mop up your foolish friends now..."

"NO!" screamed Kosuzu. She kicked Yorihime in the shins, only for her foot to hit thin air as the purple-haired warrior cartwheeled to the side. Kosuzu ran towards her, but Yorihime punched her in the face before she could react. Kosuzu fell down in a heap and rubbed her poor little nose.

"Aw, nuts! Aya! Kosuzu!" cried Marisa, running over to her unconscious friends. "Don't give in! Not like this!"

"Ohohohoho~! You'll all give in exactly like this~!" Toyohime laughed victoriously. She swung her fan and Reimu went down in a blast of fire. "Sister dear, why don't you maul half-pint of a witch~?"

"Grrr..." Marisa clenched her scarred fists and stared down Yorihime. "No-one's maulin' me, ze! Put 'em up, you- Aiyeeeee!"

A Moon Twilight Flash in the knee sent Marisa flying across the hillside. She landed painfully in a bush, squashing most of the bush. The scent of freshly-spilled sap filled her nose.

Toyohime and Yorihime shared a look of satisfaction as they looked over the dazed and beaten heroines. Somehow, they'd done it.

"The world is ours," smiled Yorihime.

"We're the best~! Long live the Lunarians~!" whooped Toyohime, her purple dress flapping as she jumped for joy. "I can't believe this gaggle of wealkings thought they were tougher than the two of us~."

"We must return to the Capital and give Lord Tsukiyomi the good news," said Yorihime.

"W-wait..." groaned Marisa, stirring among the plant life. "You can't have the Earth... We live here!"

"Not for long~!" giggled Toyohime. Arm in arm with Yorihime, they drifted slowly up into the inky, moonlit sky. Nobody knew where they would strike next or what chaos they would wreak, and there was nothing Kosuzu or any of her friends could do to stop them.

TO BE CONTINUED...

~Actual Author’s Note~

Yes indeedy, Touhou fans, Kosuzu is still at it. With a year of experience under her belt, she’s learned a lot about formatting, pacing and how to spell “divine”, but she’s going through a bit of an “everything must be described in great detail” phase. Who knows? Maybe she’ll be as good as me next year.

#Touhou #gensokofestival #Kosuzu Motoori #Reimu Hakurei #Marisa Kirisame #Aya Shameimaru #Hieda no Akyuu #Mamizou Futatsuiwa #Watatsuki no Yorihime #Watatsuki no Toyohime #writing #comedy #parody #my writing

[lokifiction]

Unsinkable

A temporarily exiled god. A young woman with insatiable wanderlust. By chance they met, but when it became clear to them that their love was meant to be, they took matters into their own hands. Their story became an ocean-borne fairytale, until inescapable ghosts from the past and a certain iceberg threaten to ruin everything.

Category: Fanfic

Rating: Mature

Notes: Guess who said they were going to post more often but still has enormous lapses in updates??? This admin!!!

Guys, I’m sorry for being the absolute worst. This chapter was originally going to be longer, but I cut it in half so I could get it out sooner. I really hope you enjoy it, and thanks for dealing with me and my busy life!

Warnings: None for this chapter.

Tags: @silverhart93 @daddysbunnyprincess92 @sallyanne0606 @shelearnedtoloveherself 

If you’d like to be tagged in this or any of my other fanfics, please let me know and I’ll add you to the list!

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

Part Five: April 11, 1912

Morning

Loki groaned and shifted once more, rubbing his sore back before returning his arms to their tightly crossed position. He was quickly learning one thing about mortals: they built their furniture much too small. The chair he was sitting in would be better suited to a child. His bed was an improvement on comfort, but he simply couldn’t go back to it and try to sleep. Not after Camryn kissed him.

Ever since she slid back into her stateroom like a summoned ghost completing her task and returning to the grave, he had been unable to sit still, his blood positively humming with a multitude of foreign emotions. He tried to pace to calm himself, but noticed after a time that his legs were trembling. Ashamed even though no one was there to witness it, he seated himself in a chair and crossed them firmly to stop their motion, running his thumb over his lips as if it would bring back the sensation of Camryn’s mouth against his, contemplating what her action meant with his thoughts running at a breakneck speed.

He eventually swore, the stateroom that once seemed large and luxurious seeming to suffocate him. He needed fresh air, and the air at sea was the most calming and would surely clear his mind. In a rush, he dressed for the day that had not yet come and made his way to the deck, where the sky was the deep purple that signaled dawn approaching. Drawing in a long breath, he stepped over to the railing and leaned onto it, casting his eyes upward to the last tenacious stars fighting for their time in the sky, which was so clear and expansive he seemed to be able to see the turn of the planet on its axis. The air was deathly still, the only sound coming from the lapping of waves against each other and against the ship, providing a lull that was frightful and comforting all at once.

The environment should have relaxed Loki and cleared his mind, but all he could think of was having Camryn there with him, and what it would be like if it was her hips he gripped instead of the rail. What was once an exploratory mission he assigned himself to pass the time during banishment had turned into an unbreakable attachment to Midgard. He began to dread the day he would be called to Asgard, and hated that he had no idea when to expect it.

He took one hand from the rail and splayed his fingers to relieve the tension that had gathered from gripping the bar so tightly, then ran it through his hair, tugging slightly on the ends. He tilted his head back and drew in a deep gulp of cold air, filling his lungs to the brim before letting it out in chuckles as he ducked his chin and pushed his hips backward, resting his head on the cool metal keeping him on the beautiful, magical ship that brought them together.

“Camryn Potts, what have you done to me?” he whispered to the wind, his voice high. “You have no idea of your power. You’ve rendered a god and a prince entirely powerless, and to the point where he would willingly kneel at your feet like a slave.”

Loki had come out with the intention of using the cool night air to confirm his thoughts, but instead spent the moments until dawn dreaming of Camryn’s smile and all he could do to put it there. Though, he supposed that those fantasies were confirmation enough.

When shy fingers of pink began to paint a gentle golden sky, causing the water all around to sparkle like the stars of the night had dropped into the sea, Loki realized that he couldn’t wait any longer to speak with Camryn about how he felt. He knew that she wouldn’t be awake at that hour of the morning, but he knew that he had to at least slip a note under her door and set a time to meet. His feelings were so urgent that it felt like his heart would beat right out of his chest.

But, it soon appeared, that relief was near, for the moment he rounded a corner to descend back inside, he found her already up and about, reclining with her feet up in a long chair, golden gossamer gown pooling around her legs and shimmering in the new sunlight. Some iced drink rested on the table next to her, and she wore a wide-brimmed yellow hat with a veil. Through the sheer fabric, however, Loki could still see her furrowed brow, widened eyes, and parted lips, her gaze focused intently on the ocean. If he looked close enough, he felt as if he could almost see projections of her thoughts on her irises.

Drawing a deep breath to stay his nerves, Loki approached Camryn and lowered himself into the chair next to hers. Her heart skipped a beat and her breath caught in her throat as she noticed him, for her thoughts had also been raging about what she had done the night before, wondering if she had been too bold and worrying that Loki didn’t reciprocate her feelings. When he appeared in her eyeline, for a moment she thought he was a vision from yet another one of the endless mental scenarios she created, detailing how he could react.

“How are you feeling?” Loki began, noticing the slight purple shadows under her eyes. “You had quite a bit to drink last night.”

Camryn toyed around with her lace gloves. “I’ve got a bit of a headache, but other than that, I’m much better. Thank you for your concern, Mr. Odinson.”

“And,” Loki swallowed, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple seeming to make Camryn’s heart move in the same path, “how much do you remember?”

“If this is about the kiss, Mr. Odinson, I remember it.” Camryn flipped her veil over the brim of her hat and regarded Loki with impossibly bright eyes that seemed to give him the universe. “And I don’t regret it.”

Loki deflated in relief and laid his palm over hers, running his index finger along the knobby lines of her thumb. “I don’t, either.”

“So…” Camryn inhaled deeply, switching the position of their hands so that both of hers gripped his. “I hate to be the one to ask this question, but what does that mean for us?”

“Well, I suppose it means what we both hope it means. Or, at least, what I think we both hope for.” Loki paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts and the knowledge he gathered of Midgardian culture. “We entertain each other while we’re on this ship with the intention of courtship in our minds, and when we get to New York I’ll speak to your father and make the relationship official. Then, we’ll go from there, I suppose.”

“Why wait?” Camryn’s voice, once proper and almost timid, had suddenly turned frank and sure, and she fixed Loki with a loving expression that could inspire salvation into the hearts of the darkest sinners.

Loki’s breath caught in his throat, and all he could choke out was “Come again?”

“Why wait?” Camryn repeated. “We’re so close now, even without any official titles, and you’re already such an important, unremovable part of me. Whenever we get to shore and we have to start dealing with titles and rules, we’ll have to change our dynamic to please society and we’ll be pulled apart until we’re able to marry. I don’t want to wait that long to get as close to you as I can, and discover just how much my budding love for you can grow. So while we’re here, in the middle of the ocean where the world can’t be seen, let’s treat it like the world doesn’t exist, and-”

Loki cut her off by taking her face in his hands and kissing her firmly, holding her with such passion and tenderness that it brought tears to her eyes.

“I take it you agree with me, then, Mr. Odinson?” she gasped when he pulled away, giggling in spite of herself.

“Most certainly.” Loki dragged his thumb across her pink, swollen lips. “Though, if we are going to go through with this, you ought to dispense with the propriety and call me Loki.”

“Alright then, Loki.” Camryn savored the way his name felt on her tongue. “Then you ought to call me Camryn.”

“Alright then, Camryn,” Loki echoed, and with a girlish laugh, Camryn twirled her fingers into the hair at the base of his neck and drew him in for another kiss.

“Princess Camryn! Is that you?”

The pair broke apart at the call, and Loki’s blood ran cold at the sound of Mr. Grant’s voice. Camryn sprang from her chair and straightened her dress, and Loki hovered close enough over her shoulder to be inappropriate for an acquaintance, betraying their new status of togetherness to all that saw them. Mr. Grant’s eyes narrowed at the sight, but his smile remained unchanging.

“Mr. Grant, I haven’t been called that name since I was a child. I think I’ve outgrown it.” Camryn cleared her throat and mustered up a warm expression. “How do you do this morning?”

“I’m well. And you could never outgrow that pet name. It suits you too well.” Mr. Grant drew a few paces closer to the couple. “I’m disappointed that we didn’t see each other again yesterday, but I know we were both terribly busy.”

“I suppose that’s the life of a businessperson.” Camryn forced a chuckle.

“Well, what’s say we make it up. Will you join me for luncheon?”

Camryn’s heart sank, for she had been dreaming of an uninterrupted romantic day with Loki, but could think of no good reason to refuse. Even Loki, the God of Lies himself, was having difficulties, and while he would have gladly flogged Mr. Grant for no more than his lustful glances in Camryn’s direction, he understood that Camryn’s inheritance put her in a difficult position and that she had to maintain every business relationship she could.

“I would be delighted,” she finally replied. “But my attendance depends on a condition.”

“What would that be? Jewels? A designer gown? An estate?” Mr. Grant cracked a boastful grin.

“No, nothing like that.” Camryn glanced down at her gloves. “My condition is that Mr. Odinson may come along.”

“Oh?” Mr. Grant raised a brow and locked eyes with Loki, his expression menacing. Loki, however, was unfazed by his mortal intimidation tactics, and merely fixed him with a smug expression.

“Anything for my princess,” Mr. Grant continued at last, breaking eye contact with Loki and staring at Camryn with barely veiled hunger.

Loki sensed Camryn’s immense discomfort at the name and balled his hand into a fist, very much wishing that he could tie Mr. Grant down with his own intestines. Camryn merely smiled through it, however, the picture of professionalism.

“Please, Mr. Grant,” she giggled. “I’m no longer a child. I’m a woman in my own right now, so please, for all the affection you’ve carried for me throughout my life, treat me as such.”

Mr. Grant drew even closer and was inches away from whispering his next words directly into her ear.

“Whatever you say, Camryn.”

Loki’s remaining seidr was enough to cause the boat to jolt with a flick of his hand, and Camryn gratefully stumbled back into him. As he made a show of righting her, he gently squeezed her shoulders to remind her that the filthy Mr. Grant would never lay hands on her.

“The sea is being playful today, eh?” Mr. Grant straightened his coat. “But luncheon is a couple of hours off. What’s say we have a game of shuffleboard.”

“That sounds lovely, Mr. Grant, but I’m afraid I have to decline.” Camryn reached behind herself and took Loki’s hand. “I have something to attend to right now. Good day, Mr. Grant.”

Before Mr. Grant could reciprocate the goodbye, Camryn took off with Loki in tow, steering him back inside and down the hall toward her stateroom.

“It was clever to tell Mr. Grant a lie to get away,” Loki said once they arrived, leaning against the wall and tucking one foot behind the other rather gracefully. “Though isn’t it a bit scandalous for a courting couple to be alone in a room together?”

“I thought we were dispensing with propriety for the time being, and besides, you’ve been in here before. While I was changing, no less.” The corners of Camryn’s ever-red lips quirked up coyly. “But I wasn’t telling Mr. Grant a lie. I do have something to tend to.”

As soon as she finished speaking, a knock sounded on the door. Since Loki was closest, he opened it, and noticed with an almost lustful pride the scolding look the maid gave the unmarried couple when she wheeled in a tray packed with sweets.

“That’s quite an interesting breakfast spread,” Loki teased once they were alone again, coming up to stand behind Camryn as she overlooked what had been brought. Her hair had been loosely tied up under her hat, but a bit had come loose to rest on the curve of her neck. With chilly fingers, Loki brushed her baby-soft skin almost sensually before capturing the strand and tucking it back into place, his body mere millimeters away from hers. Camryn knew that she was the one to propose dispensing with proper courting rituals and diving right in with each other, but at the moment she wasn’t sure if her fluttering heart could take it.

“It’s not for me,” she eventually cleared her throat and declared, though her voice was an octave higher than her usual alto tone. “This has to do with what I used to get away from Mr. Grant.”

“And what is that, exactly?” Loki asked, moving slightly backwards to avoid being bumped by her elbows as she began to wrap the cakes up in napkins, watching her actions with bemused confusion.

“You’ll see.” Camryn gathered the sweets up in her arms and flashed him a wide grin. “Follow me.”

Loki was soon swept up in another one of Camryn’s unexplained journeys as she once again made her way back out to the deck, her long legs making for a quick stride that even Loki had to exert a bit of effort to keep up with. The other first class passengers glanced at her curiously, with her arms full of cakes, quite purposefully walking down the deck made for leisure. Some even flashed Loki a sympathetic look, as if sorry he had to deal with her, but he was proud that people so naturally thought they belonged to each other. Though, he was admittedly very confused about where she was going, as the deck seemed to be ending, and grew even more so when she started to descend stairs that led down to a third-class deck.

“Camryn?” he called after her, catching up at last. “You do know this goes to a third class deck?”

“I know exactly where I’m going,” she insisted, pushing on ahead until she was stopped by a uniformed crewmember. At the sight of him, her lips pulled into a sickly sweet smile but a blistering intensity shot out of her eyes, an expression Loki had never seen and one that, quite frankly, frightened even him.

“So we meet again,” she purred. If her eyes hadn’t gone harder still and the crewmember hadn’t shrunk backwards in obvious fear, Loki would’ve been angrily jealous.

“This is the third class deck, miss,” the crewmember informed, voice high and shaking. “I can’t let you through.”

“I think you can.” Camryn cocked a thick eyebrow. “After all, I’ve paid a handsome sum to be on this ship. And since people like you are so classist that you won’t allow those that didn’t pay more than your life’s savings for a ticket have decent living situations while on it, you’ll have to let me, a superior being to you according to your philosophy, explore every inch of the ship many would have died to be on. And-” she stepped closer to the crewmember, leaning right up to his ear. “If you don’t let me through, I’ll have to make good on my promise.”

The crewmember balked, and did nothing more than step aside. Camryn grinned in triumph, pushing past and gesturing for Loki to follow.

“Erm.” Loki coughed gently, and Camryn turned to him with the wide and bright eyes he was used to. “What was that about?”

“Oh, that.” Camryn giggled lightly. “I may or may not have threatened to kill that crewmember yesterday for being a classist arse when I was trying to board.”

Loki shook his head incredulously. “What, may I ask, did I just get myself into?”

Camryn smirked sweetly, swinging her hips. “The best mess of your life.”

WIth that, she took off again, cutting through the natural path that was made for her on the deck as the steerage passengers parted in her presence, every eye fixed on her, whispers of wonderment breaking the sudden quiet in the air, a few young hands reaching out to touch the expensive fabric of her gown but pulling away before they could get close enough. Camryn, as bashful and introverted as she was, seemed to be quite used to the attention, and flashed charming smiles to as many as she could before reaching the railing, where a weathered man held his pink-cheeked son up to see over it.

“Miss Potts!” the boy gasped in delight when he looked over his shoulder and discovered her, jumping down and into her arms. The sweets she carried would’ve been ruined had it not been for Loki quickly casting a simple spell to make them float for a split second so he could gather them into his arms, working with just enough speed so that no one would notice a thing was amiss. Camryn certainly didn’t, for she giggled and twirled the boy once, situating him on her hip even though he was likely too old to be held.

“Hello, Joshua!” she exclaimed, then turned to his father. “And hello again, Jacob. Are you well?”

“We are, Miss Potts.” Jacob began to blush, and eyed Loki a tad nervously. “Joshie really loves it on this ship.”

“Oh? Is that true, Joshua?” She turned to the boy, and he nodded excitedly.

“Mmhm! Daddy says that today the land will go away and it’ll be all ocean around us!”

“Well, that will be frightfully exciting, won’t it? It will be such an adventure!” Camryn squeezed the boy tightly, then turned so that she was facing Loki. “Joshua, I’d like to introduce you to someone. This is my very special friend, Mr. Odinson. Mr. Odinson, this is Joshua, and his wonderful father Jacob.”

“How do you do.” Loki politely shook Jacob’s hand, for he seemed a good person, but was still lost as to how on Earth Camryn made his acquaintance.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Odinson.” Jacob turned to Joshua. “Joshie, why don’t you climb down from Miss Potts and shake this man’s hand?”

Joshua jumped down instantly and grasped Loki’s hand with one barely large enough to wrap around his fingers. “How do you do, sir?”

“I’m well, young Mr. Greene.” Loki couldn’t deny that the smiling child’s face warmed his heart. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Listen, Joshua.” Camryn knelt down behind him, resting her hands on his shoulders. “I’ve brought a present for you.”

Joshua’s mouth dropped open. “Really?”

“Mmhm!” Camryn took the bundle of sweets from Loki and opened them.  “Sweets from the first class dining room. Some of the best cakes in the world.”

If Joshua’s mouth dropped open any more, his jaw would fall off. “All for me?”

“Yes.” Camryn re-wrapped the bundle and put it into his arms. “All for you.”

“Miss Potts, that’s too kind,” Jacob, insisted, cheeks positively ruddy. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Nonsense. Of course I should’ve! Those treats are so accessible to me that I get sick of them. It seems outright evil that a child shouldn’t get to experience some simple luxuries.” Camryn rose to her full height and approached Mr. Greene. “And I spoke to my father. He can definitely provide you employment. He’s having some communication with one of his managers right now, and I’m to take you in for a meeting when we make it to shore.”

“Oh, Miss Potts.” Jacob’s eyes welled with tears and his legs went so limp Loki feared he would collapse. “You’ve just saved our lives.”

“Please, Mr. Green. It’s my pleasure.” Camryn squeezed his hand.

“Why are you crying, Daddy?” Joshua, miffed he was being left out of the conversation, wrapped his arms around Jacob’s legs.

“Because Miss Potts is a very, very good person, Joshie,” Jacob replied.

“Yes she is!” Joshua bounced on his toes. “She’s just like a princess!” Loki had to admit that for a mortal, Joshua was quite precious.

“Oh, Joshua. You spoil me.” Camryn leaned down and gave the boy a kiss. “I’m afraid I have to leave for a luncheon engagement. I’m so sorry to leave so soon.”

“I won’t have you apologizing. You’ve done more than enough,” Jacob insisted. “No need for you to feel sorry for not giving us more time than we need.”

And so Camryn and Loki said their goodbyes and left the third class deck, the crewmember shrinking away as Camryn passed. Camryn had her arms wrapped tightly around Loki’s and had her head resting on his shoulder with a familiarity that stunned but didn’t upset either of them.

The pair eventually passed by the chairs they were sitting in before, and, upon finding them still vacant, made a silent decision to sit down again. The shape of the furniture, however, wasn’t optimal for closeness, so instead of reclining like one was meant to, they both perched on the edges, linking hands in their laps.

“I’ll admit that I was skeptical at first,” Loki began, “but the Greenes are lovely people. I am, however, very curious to know how a corporate heiress made such a close acquaintance with them.”

“Oh, yes. It really is a lovely story.” Camryn drew circles with her finger at the spot below Loki’s thumb. “When we were boarding yesterday, I was all alone with my massive amount of baggage. They noticed my struggle and offered to help. We got to talking, and I found out that they’re immigrating to America, meeting up with a wife and a little girl, but Jacob had no idea how he’d support them monetarily once they arrived. My father’s company has an endless amount of jobs, so I figured I’d be a positively nasty person if I didn’t offer to get him one.”

“You’re many things, Camryn,” Loki declared, still savoring the way her name felt on his lips, “but you’re certainly not a nasty person.”

The two chatted for a bit longer, gushing about Jacob and Joshua and casually debating issues of class. Being raised as a prince in a feudal society, Loki was a bit more closed-minded on the matter, but as Camryn discussed how high-class citizens despised people born in a lower caste but made it nearly impossible for them to ever change, he began to come around on her reasoning. They spoke without a lull until the luncheon bell rang, and the two immediately rose to join the migrating crowd, Camryn wrapping herself up against Loki once more. She had a contented smile on her face, but the moment they came in sight of the dining room, her expression turned sour.

“What’s wrong?” Loki asked softly, wondering if she was the type of mortal to get seasickness.

“Oh, nothing.” Camryn grimaced. “I’m just much less excited for this than I was to meet with the Greenes.”

“I agree.” Loki squeezed her hand protectively. He would’ve liked to grab a larger part of her body for more emphasis, but even if they did decide to dispense with a lot of propriety, that was a line he didn’t feel he could cross quite yet. “I get a bad feeling from that Mr. Grant.”

“Oh, he’s harmless.” Camryn waved her hand. “He’s just a bother. I feel obligated to him because of his relation to my father, but I’ve never particularly enjoyed his company.”

Loki took a deep breath to prevent himself from wrapping his arms around Camryn and using the weak seidr that remained in him to transport them off of the ship and somewhere far away from Mr. Grant. He worried that her obligation to upholding a relationship that wasn’t hers coulded her judgment and would someday put her in the way of danger. Loki feared she wouldn’t understand his godly intuition, though, and all he could do was hope his feelings were wrong and enter the dining room, where the snake himself was waiting.

#loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki laufeyson fanfic #loki laufeyson #loki x ofc #loki x reader

[serendipitystation]

Read it here, too: AO3

Summary: Investigator Dupain-Cheng (dubbed Ladybug by the public) is used to strange cases coming her way, but her latest one involves murder, intrigue, and an actor with peridot eyes that she can’t seem to shake. Perhaps it’s just her, but something about this seems…personal. Rated T, Adrienette/LadyNoir, film noir 1950’s AU, ongoing.

Length: Medium

Rating: PG-13

——————————

It’s tough being a lady in a man’s world. A lot of people say that the 50’s are a time of freedom, such words uttered by government officials and barkeeps alike, talked of in church halls and on velveted stages. But this only goes so far. For Marinette, the cage she wears of linen, lace, and ladylike behavior feels stifling. Her parents are progressive people who support her and let her be herself, but it isn’t until she dons her black and red trench coat that she really feels herself. When she takes up the mantle of Ladybug, the detective pseudonym she’s been given over the years by the public, she is invincible.

Though her friends and family accept her career, not everyone does. Marinette’s office is the talk of her city, Ladybug infamous for her efforts at crime-fighting. The older women on their morning strolls too their noses in the air as they pass her office and men gawk at it, surprised at the gall of the local woman detective. Still, she’s been successful on more than one occasion and the police, though they don’t work with her, can’t deny the leads she’s supplied them with. Thus, her reputation has grown and there’s always a strange smattering of people frequenting her office.

Today, however, is no ordinary day. That morning, Marinette arrived at her office to find a man waiting at her front door. When he wrung hiis hands nervously and asked her to come to a theater downtown at the request of his employer, Marinette was cautious in accepting, but intrigued. Now, standing in the opulent auditorium of the theater and taking in the scene before her, she knows she made the right decision.

The scene Marinette observes is straight out of the film noir stories she likes so much. On the worn stage lies a woman, heavily done up and beautiful, her auburn hair fanned out on the wood floor. She looks like a Hollywood starlet, dressed in deep green velvet and picture perfect, save for the dark stains of blood on her gown and the gaping wounds where they begin. Around her, policemen work, taking with the startled employees and taking photos of the crime scene. Marinette approaches the gathering of people, drawing near to a light-suited man who she assumes must be the manager of the establishment. She is correct; the man in question sees her walk near and breaks off his conversation with a policeman to meet her halfway.

“You are Ladybug, yes?” He asks, a broad Italian accent coloring his words. The manager doesn’t give Marinette time to reply and continues.

“This is a horrible affair- horrible, I say! To come in here this morning and find Catherine dead like this! What a horrible thing!” The manager says with impassioned gusto, before leaning in slightly, as if saying something in confidence. “I cannot have this thing ruining my theater, you know. Terrible it is for business, just terrible. I’ve heard of your success and I wonder if you may take a look, see if you can find the one who did this. I have money to offer if you can find the killer.” He says, his concern at his theater’s prospects clear on his face.

“I’ll investigate and see what I can find out.” Marinette says calmly, drawing a relieved sigh from the manager, who begins to speak to another policeman. Marinette takes to the stage stairs, finally reaching the victim’s body. As she crouches down to examine the victim, the policemen greet her with impassive nods. The local police force has gotten used to seeing her at crime scenes and don’t bother her like they used to; it’s an impersonal, unspoken arrangement she has with them, but it is done on good terms, so neither side complains.

Slowly, Marinette takes in the victim’s body. Close up, it is clear that the actress is slightly older than her get-up would have her appear. Still, age has dealt her a good hand, as she remains a handsome woman. Marinette’s eyes narrow as they fall on the wounds on the victim’s chest. A number of deep gashes mar the velvet bodice, concentrated on the stomach area. The entrances of the wounds are surprisingly clean and regular, and the wounds’ placement seems strangely uniform as well, following a vertical pattern. Confusion runs rampant in Marinette’s mind; in all the murder cases she’s investigated, no puncture marks have ever looked like that. Putting aside her wondering, Marinette gives the rest of the body a once-over. Aside from noticing the lack of a wedding ring, light bruising on the right forearm, and a curious slip of paper bearing a drawing of a butterfly that rests beside the body, Marinette doesn’t see much else that stands out and she stands up.

Before she talks to anyone, Marinette decides to take a look at the victim’s dressing room to see if anything reveals itself. Unfortuantely, her efforts prove unhelpful. The room is neat to a tee, stage makeup lined up precisely on the lighted table in the corner and clothes hung up straight on the costume rack. A glittery dress hangs on the back of the door, all tulle and hasty stitches, clearly half-finished. Though show posters hang on the walls, the rest of the room is fairly impersonal, providing no clues as to the murder. Casting a final glance at the place, Marinette turns out the lights and rejoins the crowd in the auditorium.

For the next half hour, Marinette interviews the manager and a few of the staff. In her discussions with them, she learns some key details about the victim. Her name was Catherine Gregory and she was one of the principle actors of the theater’s resident company. She’d been a regular of the company since the 30s and was considered one of the most accomplished local stars still in the acting circuit. Marinette’s interviewees all give the same impression of her; regal, proud, and a touch haughty in the way aging divas tend to be. She had her enemies, of course- one wardrobe mistress mentioned a rival of years past from a neighbouring theater, which Marinette takes note of for later- but there were few names that came up. When Marinette asks about the victim’s relationships, another actress mentions a boyfriend with whom Catherine left on bad terms recently and who reportedly left behind the bruises on the victim’s arm. Marinette keeps this in mind for later as well. In addition, the medical examiner confirms Marinette’s suspicion that the abdominal wounds were the cause of death, calling the approximate time of death as midnight that nigh, and none of the people Marinette talks to have any clue as to the mysterious butterfly card’s origin or meaning. As Marinette works through the staff present at the scene, she slowly accrews clues and information, building up leads to follow. However, nothing she learns jumps out at her or spikes her intuition.

As she makes to leave the scene, Marinette asks the manager if there is anyone left whom she should talk with. The manager glances around and points at a man who had walked into the theater only seconds before. Following his direction, Marinette looks up and meets a pair of leaf-green eyes, bright as a neon light and staring right at her. Marinette is not one easily intimidated or taken aback, but something about the gaze and its intensity sets her on edge. It isn’t until she gets closer to her last interviewee that she understands why.

The man in question is tall, slim, and tan, his features streamlined and precise. He has the kind of face that a woman would stare at dreamily in a magazine and his stance- open and easy- suggests such reactions wouldn’t bother him. He is dressed casually but smartly, clad in a dark blazer and pants, a wide brimmed hat on his head and the top button of his white shirt undone. Everything about his appearance screams of money and ego and, yet, it is his face that undoes the whole image. Where one would expect a charming smile or bedroom eyes, he has the expression of an eager schoolboy. It’s this energy in the man’s gaze that sets Marinette on edge. Most people she talks to during a crime investigation are bereft, confused, or anxious about speaking to her. This guy looks almost happy when she reaches him.

“I’m Investigator Dupain-Cheng and I’m looking into a murder at this establishment. May I ask you a few questions?” Marinette says briskly. The man blinks slowly.

“Of course. I’m at your service.” The man says in an easy voice, giving her a smile far too cheery for a murder scene. Marinette clears her throat.

“Please state your name and occupation.” She says.

“Adrien Vermonte. I’m an actor with the theater’s company.” The man replies.

“Did you know the victim, Ms. Gregory, Mr. Vermonte?” Marinette asks. At the victim’s name, Mr. Vermonte gapes.

“Cathy? Of course- I used the dressing room next door to hers.” The actor shakes his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe someone would kill her.”

“What do you know about the victim?” Marinette inquires.

“She’s been with the company for a long time, longer than most dames her age. She was worth it, though- her voice was legendary and she had a cadre of dedicated fans. She was a star and she knew it.” At this, Mr. Vermonte chuckles. “She wasn’t liked by everyone- she had a tendency to rub people the wrong way sometimes, but she was quite the personality. I liked her well enough. She had a soft spot for me- said I looked like her favorite nephew.” Mr. Vermonte smiled fondly at the thought and Marinette sighed ever so slightly. So far, nothing new from this guy.

“Was there anyone Ms. Gregory had problems with?” Marinette asks flatly. The actor looks thoughtful for a moment.

“No one comes to mind in particular- no one with things to kill over.” Mr. Vermonte replies. “I did hear one argument, though. It was yesterday, I think, in the afternoon. I was getting into costume for the show that night when I heard Cathy yelling next door. It sounded like she was really laying into someone, as though someone had made her angry. A few minutes later, I heard the door open and close and someone walk down the hallway, but it wasn’t Cathy- I could hear her warming up in her room not long after. That’s all I remember.” The actor lets out a huff as he finishes his sentence and Marinette knows she’s found a goodd lead.

“That’s all the questions I have for you for now. Thank you for your time.” Marinette says, but, before she can turn away, Mr. Vermonte pipes up.

“‘For now’? Will you be back?” He asks curiously. Marinette blinks confusedly but keeps her composure.

“It depends on what the investigation reveals. If I need to ask you more questions, I trust I know where to find you.” She says plainly. But the actor still isn’t finished.

“You know, I’m on pretty good terms with the rest of the actors. I’d be happy to keep my ears open for any other information that might help you.” Mr. Vermonte says casually, looking rather excited at the idea. At this, Marinette frowns. A curious interviewee isn’t uncommon, but one that could make people suspicious and risk tampering with the investigation or tipping off the murderer? Not helpful at all. Marinette turns a cold smile on the golden-haired actor.

“Mr. Vermonte-“ Marinette begins, before the actor interrupts her.

“Adrien.” He says with a warm grin. Marinette ignores him and continues.

“This is an investigation of a serious crime. Any active interfering of citizens could hamper law enforcement or hurt the case. I advise you to stay out of the way and stick to acting. Thank you.” Marinette finishes tersely, walking down the theater aisle quickly to avoid being held back by Mr. Vermonte anymore. Even as she leaves, she feels his gaze follow her up and out the doors.

The investigation had just begun but something told Marinette that this would be a particular tricky case. And it wasn’t just because of the peridot eyes that linger in her mind long after she leaves the theater.

#ladynoir? film noir? get it? i had to do it XD #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #miraculous #ladynoir fanfiction #adrienette fanfiction #writing #seren writes

[msfcatlover]

TakeRitsu Week Day 7: Fantasy

@takeritsuweek2017

There was more I wanted to get to, but this seemed like such a good place to stop... I don’t want to push my luck. I guess I’ll add this to my list of AUs I need to expand on later.

I know I read the idea of Takenaka being a seer in a fantasy AU and wearing a blindfold to block out his visions somewhere, and I want to give credit, but I can’t find the original post anymore? Does anyone know what it was for? EDIT: Thank you, @feroluce​ for confirming that the idea did, in fact come from @beanpots’ Black and Gold AU. I... still can’t find the exact post where it was mentioned, but credit where it’s due. ANOTHER EDIT: Thank you again, @feroluce​! The post is here. Takenaka is only mentioned at the very end.

(Ritsu hides his identity because he’s one of the crown princes of the country and, um, that’s pretty damn dangerous boy. It... gets cleared up in the parts I wanted to get to. *sigh*)

Aged-up characters, although it’s only mentioned once; I’m picturing them in their mid-to-late teens for this one.

Hopelessly, Ritsu looked up at the sky, but the trees blocked both moon and stars, and he wasn’t about to risk drawing down the wrath of some forest sprite by trying to climb one. It wasn’t a good thing to be wandering the forest at night, especially not alone; you never knew what might take an interest.

A bramble caught on his cloak, and he pulled roughly away, hearing the fabric rip as he did so. A small curse slipped past Ritsu’s lips, and he swore he heard something titter behind him. He grit his teeth and determinedly did not look back, continuing to pick his way along the path of least resistance, hoping and praying that he wasn’t being lead to somewhere—

The forest opened up into a clearing, a small cottage sitting at its center. Ritsu froze in surprise.

It could be a trap; there were plenty of fae and creatures like them who delighted in trickery like this. The weak firelight flickering behind the shutters was just their kind of tempting, a promise of safety sure to be rescinded as soon as he got comfortable.

On the other hand… a fat drop of rain landed on Ritsu’s cheek, and a ruble of thunder passed in the distance. The timing was suspiciously convenient, but it very clearly told him he couldn’t stay out here. Taking a deep breath to brace himself, Ritsu strode across the clearing to knock on the door.

“Hello? Is anyone home?” Another raindrop, this one on the back of his neck. Ritsu knocked harder. “If you are human, I need shelter for the night! If not, I request this hounding cease immediately!” The tittering came again, this time from a little further back. Through the shutters, Ritsu could just make out the shadow of movement.

“I’m coming, I’m coming…” A man’s voice called, sleep-rough and bleary-sounding. Ritsu heard several bolts slide on the inside of the door— “Sweet mercy, you’re loud,” —and then it was yanked open under his hand.

Ritsu knew that he was tall for sixteen; this man was taller, even slouched against the doorway as he was. His nightshirt seemed a little too big, hanging well past his knees and swallowing his frame like a wire doll. His long, brown hair was a mess, his mouth set in an unwelcoming grimace. One hand was tucked out of sight, likely reaching for some sort of weapon in case Ritsu proved to be hostile; the other was clasped tightly over his eyes. Despite that, Ritsu had the distinct impression he was being glared at.

“Wadda you want?”

Ritsu bowed. “I apologize for interrupting your sleep just now. I’m afraid I’m a little lost, and it’s beginning to rain.” Three raindrops in quick succession drummed down on his back. Another hit his hair. “If you’re not responsible for this, and are, in fact, human, I would request a place to stay for the night.”

“Yeah?” He sounded a little more awake now. “How do I know you aren’t some trickster, trying to get a free invitation in to my home? It would hardly be the first time one of your ilk showed up like this.”

Ritsu considered. “My belt buckle is iron, and I know I have a ring that is silver; you could examine them if you like. If you have milk in the house, I’d be happy to handle it and show that it doesn’t curdle.”

“What about salt?”

Ritsu scoffed. “I don’t make a habit of carrying any on me, and I doubt you have the purified kind anywhere around this house. But if you do, I could handle that too; it won’t burn.”

The man paused for a moment, before lower the hand from his face. His eyes remained scrunched shut. “Let’s see this ring.”

Ritsu considered his hands. Each of his rings denoted a different aspect of himself, of his station in life. Each one would reveal something different if he handed them over, and each would be a different scar if it wasn’t given back. Finally, he decided on the thin band around his littlest finger, twisted silver with a small black pearl set in it; the second son of a noble household. Unless this man could identify the type of silver or pearl from a quick analysis, it wouldn’t tell him anything about which household it was.

Ritsu slid the ring off and handed it over. The man rolled it around in his hand, feeling out the shape of the ring and the pearl, before raising it to his lips and settling it between his teeth. He bit, doubtless feeling for the degree of give in the metal, and likely tasting it for good measure. Ritsu’s heart rose in his throat, and he hoped the ring wouldn’t be damaged.

The man opened his mouth, dropping the ring back into his hand and offered it back to Ritsu, who took it with relief. “Alright, you’ve got silver. I’m not going to invite you in, but if you can cross the threshold on your own, you’re free to spend the night.” He turned and walked away, and Ritsu hopped quickly across the threshold, closing the door behind him as the rain began to pick up.

It was a simple, one-room cottage. Herbs and dried meats hung from the rafters, pots, pans, and kettles decorated the mantle over the fire, and the bed was shoved off the corner farthest from the source of heat. On one side of the door, a beautifully crafted sword sheath leaned against the wall, likely the weapon the man had been reaching for earlier. On the other, a wide-brimmed hat and shapeless coat hung on hooks set in the wall.

Ritsu pulled off his own cloak and set it under them. “Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t. Only a fool would leave you out for the fae to get at.” The man fished through a pile of blankets by the fire. “I don’t need a changeling nobleman causing trouble around here.” He returned to Ritsu, dumping the bundle of selected blankets into his arms. “Make yourself comfortable, my lord. Try not to lay on any peas when you put them on the floor. I’m going back to sleep.”

He returned to the bed, still not having actually looked at Ritsu once, or apparently even considered offering the softer surface to his guest. Not knowing what to make of that, and too tired to make much of a fuss, Ritsu set about spreading the blankets on the floor.

.

When Ritsu woke, he was at first very confused. His back hurt, someone was humming, and he could smell food… burning? Had he been sleepwalking? Or was Shou pranking him agai—

“My lord, breakfast is ready. Or are you just going to lay there all day?”

Everything from the day before came crashing back, and suddenly, Ritsu was very much awake. He sat up and scanned the room, and yes, it was definitely still the cabin from the night before. The owner sat by the fire, dressed in simple pants and a green tunic, hair pulled back with a piece twine. In the morning light, he seemed much farther from manhood; he couldn’t be that much older than Shigeo, really. Still, there was something bordering on cruelty in his smile.

“I didn’t realize my floor was so comfortable.”

“It’s not,” Ritsu told him, feeling his bruises pull as he stretched out his arms. “but it’s better than outside. Thank you.”

“I told you, don’t bother.” He turned back to the fire, and stirred the pot sitting there. “I hope you like pork stew, because that’s what you’re getting.”

It was probably leftovers from whatever he’d had the previous night; still, Ritsu’s stomach rumbled. He folded his arms across it, embarrassed, as the man let off a surprised laugh.

“It’ll do,” Ritsu muttered.

“I guess it will.” The maliciousness seemed to have temporarily fled his expression, though he quickly suppressed his smile and turned back to his pot. “Shall I ladle you a bowl, my lord, or do you wish to do that yourself?”

“I can handle a ladle,” Ritsu replied, trying not to feel offended.

The man shrugged and pulled a bowl and spoon out of one of the pans on the mantle. “Suit yourself.” Ritsu watched as he filled it and retreated back to the bed to eat his breakfast alone, and bit the inside of his cheek.

It would be terribly rude, after all, to ask why the woodsman wore a blindfold tied around his eyes.

Instead, he asked for his name.

“What does it matter?” the man asked, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “It’s not like you’re sticking around, are you?

Ritsu shrugged. “Maybe I just want to be able to tell the other nobles how rude you were. In which case, keep it up; you’re just adding to a great story.”

He snorted, then broke down in a sudden coughing fit, as apparently the last bite of soup managed to go down the wrong way. Ritsu scrambled to his feet and tried to go to his side, only to find himself waved off.

“I’m fine, I’m fine! Don’t—” More coughing. “Don’t worry about it.” The man wiped his hand down his face. “I’ve lived through worse.”

There was a pause, and then the man straightened, setting his bowl to the side. He offered one hand in the same stiff, mechanical manner Shigeo did when someone reminded him it was necessary for some sort of ceremony. “Takenaka Momozou. And your name, my lord?”

Something caught in Ritsu’s chest as he realized the corner he’d just walked himself into. Not allowing himself to show any hesitation, he quickly clasped the hand in his own and plastered on his best diplomatic smile.

“Asagiri Taro,” he lied.

“I’m sure it’s an honor,” Takenaka said with the air of a man with neither knowledge nor interest in the name-value of the nobility. Which… was probably good, seeing how there was no such person right now. Still, the smile hurt Ritsu’s face and the name stuck uncomfortably to his tongue.

“Likewise.”

“You’d better get that soup,” Takenaka advised, picking his own bowl back up and emptying the remains in a single gulp. He got to his feet. “or I’m going eat it all, and you’ll never get to experience peasant cooking.”

Ritsu’s stomach growled in response, and the woodsman grinned.

.

About mid-morning, Takenaka lifted the longsword left by the door and hitched it to his belt. “Well, my lord, I need to go get some shopping done. If you wanted to be heading back to town, now’s as good a time as any.”

Ritsu wrapped himself in his torn, stained cloak, and hurried after him.

Takenaka walked the path with confidence, not seeming bothered by his lack of sight as he explained how to find it, should Ritsu ever get lost again (“Shouldn’t be out in these woods if you can’t tell the difference between a real path and a faerie trail,” he said,) but eventually they fell into a companionable silence. Ritsu kept his eyes mostly on the path, aside from the occasional glance at the man walking by his side. The light falling through the leaves edged Takenaka’s hair in gold and highlighted the soft curve of his smile.

Ritsu swallowed and refocused on the path.  Tiny faerie lights sparked at the corners of his eyes.

.

When they reached town, Takenaka made good on his claim of shopping, heading first for a bakery with apparently little thought for the noble at his heels. He chatted with the woman behind the counter, purchased two loaves of bread and some fruit tarts before stepping out again, and heading for a vegetable stall. Ritsu trailed along behind him, fully aware of the odd looks he was drawing.

He wondered how many people actually recognized him, versus how many simply noticed the style of his clothing.

Almost two hours after arriving, Ritsu noticed a handful of guards at the edge of the crowd. When he pointed them out, Takenaka shrugged.

“Probably looking for you. I doubt you really blend in.” The woodsman paused. “If you want to get back to your fancy mansion, you should probably just go introduce yourself.”

Ritsu shifted. “That… makes sense. My family would be worried about me.”

“So what’s the matter?”

“I…” I still haven’t thanked you properly; you won’t let me. How do I even say something like that?

Takenaka waited for a long moment before reaching into his basket of groceries and pulling out one of the loaves of bread. With a single, strong twist, he ripped it in half, scattering crumbs across the cobblestones. He held out one of the halves towards Ritsu. “Here. In case you decide you want some more peasant cooking on your way back, my lord. It’s probably more filling than whatever they feed you up in the castle, or wherever.”

Ritsu accepted it with a quiet “Thank you.”

Takenaka grinned and fished a peach out of the basket and took a bite out of it. “Eh, don’t mention it. I’m sure you’ll forget all about this as soon as you get done complaining to your noble-friends about how much it sucked.”

Somehow, Ritsu doubted that; he didn’t want to forget any of this.

#mp100 #100% fanfiction #takeritsuweek2017 #takeritsu #my writing #mine

[setsunameioh]

Necromancy for Beginners

Have you ever found yourself wondering how, exactly, did Heiji end up as the living dead in Halloweenverse AU? Well, wait no more because now you have the answer to that burning question, in which Kazuha jackasses amateur necromancy and Ran questions her choice in friends.

You can also read it on AO3!

Given the fact that she had known a self-proclaimed inventor nearly her entire life, Mouri Ran was no stranger to, well, strange contraptions. Professor Agasa had invented any number in his day, but even those, she couldn't help but think, as she tried to make head or tails of just what it was that she was looking at, paled in comparison to this.

And to think, Professor Agasa had nothing to do with this one.

"Ran-chan, ya made it!"

Based on the casual way that she was calling out to her, one wouldn't guess that Toyama Kazuha was currently calling out to her in the middle of a raging storm, thunder and lightning striking overhead. Each time they did, Ran couldn't help but flinch, feeling that they were a bit too close for comfort- and she'd good reason for it, seeing as the contraption that Kazuha had set up almost seemed intended to draw in the lightning strikes.

Suffice to say, this was not how she expected to find her friend. Mourning, maybe, seeing as her own childhood friend had passed away not even a week ago- a terrible accident, from what she understood, though the details were rather scarce. Not standing in the middle of a lightning storm, with not even so much as a hood to keep herself dry, holding one end of a pair of jumper cables that she had just finished attaching to a car battery in the parking lot of...

...where was this, anyways? She'd only followed the directions that Kazuha had given her, though she did admit, she'd found it rather strange at the time that she hadn't wanted to meet her either at the station, or at her home. Still... she had to admit, this was definitely beyond her expectations.

Especially since lying in the middle of the contraption that Kazuha had presumably set up, was what she was fairly certain was the corpse of Hattori Heiji. Whom Kazuha was, incidentally, attaching the other end of the jumper cables to- or to be more precise, she was attaching them to the two large screws that she had, presumably, drilled into either side of his head.

For a brief moment, very brief, Ran nearly thought better of all this, feeling it would be for the best if she cut her losses, and got out of here. But curse her friendly nature, for it got the better of her, so instead of running away, she actually drew closer, only halting when another lightning strike came all too close to where they were, making her jump.

She might be a witch, but she was fairly certain that without proper protection spells, even she couldn't survive getting struck by lightning.

"Kazuha-chan, what exactly are you...?" Ran began, finding herself quite unable to finish the question.

"What does it look like?" Kazuha asked, carefully making sure that the clamps were in place. Thank god, upon drawing closer to her, it seemed at the very least she was wearing a thick pair of rubber gloves- though given everything else that was going on, it honestly didn't provide Ran with that much comfort.

"I actually do not know what this looks like, at all." Ran quickly confessed, not knowing what else to say.

"I'm gonna bring Heiji back ta life, that's what!" Kazuha told her, a broad grin on her face. For a moment, Ran wondered if perhaps the grief had gone to her head, but the girl's eyes were very much clear. "Called ya here cause I need a bit of yer help!"

"Me?" Ran nearly squeaked, almost taking a step back. "Kazuha-chan, I can assure you, I don't know any such spells of such nature! That kind of magic is forbidden!"

"No, no, not that!" Kazuha said, waving her hand. "I already know that ya wouldn't know any of that kind of magic, Ran-chan, yer not that kind of girl. I just need ya ta help me out with some more simple stuff, that's all!"

"...Well, if you say so, but..." Ran trailed off, her gaze straying towards what she now knew for sure now was Heiji's corpse. Given the way he had been stitched back together here and there, the accident that he had been in must have been far worse than she'd thought.

She couldn't help but wonder who it was that had done the stitching- the person in charge of cleaning up his corpse, or Kazuha herself. Come to think of it, how on earth had she even managed to get it here in the first place? She hadn't seriously stolen his body out of the morgue for this?

Something told her that perhaps, it would be for the best if she didn't ask.

"I'm not sure about this, Kazuha-chan. Any of this." Ran said. "Of course, it's not like I want to see Hattori-kun dead, but... you do know what you're doing, right? Bringing someone back to life isn't something you should just play around with, there's all sorts of things that could go wrong and-."

"Don't worry, don't worry!" Kazuha said, cutting her off, reaching over to pat her on the shoulders. At the very least, she certainly looked confident. "My several times great grandfather did somethin' like this before an' it came out just fine! We still have his notes in the family, so everythin' should go just fine!"

"...is that so?" Ran couldn't help but blink, for a moment, wondering exactly what kind of man this several times great grandfather of Kazuha's was. In the back of her mind, she felt as if she had heard a story similar this from somewhere, but from where exactly, she couldn't really recall.

"Ya can help, right, Ran-chan?" Kazuha asked, giving her shoulders a bit of a squeeze. "Fer my sake, an' fer Heiji's. He's a big idiot, but I don't think his life was meant ta be this short."

"Well, I..." Ran hesitated, her foot sliding half a step back- before she drew in a long breath, getting the feeling that she was going to regret this. But with that kind of look in Kazuha's eyes... what kind of friend would she be if she said no, really? Perhaps it hadn't gone to her head, but there was indeed, grief there. It wasn't as if she was the only one affected either- while she had never been extremely close to Heiji, news of his death had hit Shinichi hard, and she couldn't stand seeing him that way.

If she really did have a way to bring Heiji back to life, then the very least thing she could as her friend was try and support her. It wasn't as if she wanted to see Heiji dead either- seventeen years was far too short of a life for anyone, so she could understand, at least a little, why it was that Kazuha might want to go this far for him.

So well... if there was something that she could do to bring him back, why not give it a try?

"Sure, Kazuha-chan. As long as it doesn't involve any forbidden spells, I'll help you." Ran finally told her, still half feeling that she was going to regret this.

"That's great!" Clasping her hands now, Kazuha's smile grew all the brighter. "Ya know healin' magic right, Ran-chan?"

"I do, but I don't see what use that's going to do now." Ran admitted. "Hattori-kun is already dead. Healing magic alone can't really bring someone back to life."

"That's fine, that's fine, that's not what it's fer!" Kazuha said, releasing her hands and taking a step back, turning on her heel to face the corpse of her childhood friend that she had lain on top of a bench. It was strange how peaceful he looked- both because of the strange circumstances in which he was in, and because it was, after all, Hattori Heiji, one who was never quite known for peace.

"Then, what?" Ran asked, taking a step forward, half wondering if she should fold up her umbrella and perhaps toss it far, far away from herself. Being around all of this made her feel as if it might attract the lightning bolt, as opposed to the lightning rod that Kazuha had set up- where had she even found one of those anyways, and on such short notice?

"I could only do so much ta sew him back up, ya know." Kazuha openly confessed, answering Ran's earlier question. "If ya cast a spell like that, won't they become yanno... a bit more attached? It's not good if they just fall off the moment he tries ta use them! His arms an' legs are one thing, but he does kinda need that head of his, much as he doesn't always seem ta use it sometimes."

Dimly, Ran couldn't help but note that not even death protected Heiji from their usual banter, even if it was almost painfully one-sided this time.

"Ah... I guess that's true." Ran admitted. Closing her umbrella and setting it aside, she found herself a bit grateful for the wide brim of her witch's hat. It wouldn't do much to keep the rain off of her, not in this storm, but it was better than nothing. "I can do that much, at least. Then what do you need after that?"

"Then we step back an' wait fer the perfect lightning strike ta jolt him right back ta life!" Kazuha chirped. "Sorry ta call ya all the way out here just fer this. But I don't really know any other witches."

"No, no, it's probably for the best it's me you called." Ran told her, perhaps wisely choosing not to give voice to the fact that almost anyone else might have simply called the police. Then again... when it came to the police, the one who was in charge of them around here was none other than Heiji's father.

...did his parents know about this? No, no, there was no way she would be doing this in a parking lot if they did.

But well... she guessed Heiji really did mean a lot to her, if she was willing to go this far. Come to think of it, she had told her about it once- that the two of them had been together since they were both babies. Even though she had a childhood friend of her own, two, in fact, that was a feeling that she couldn't quite understand.

She, Sonoko, and Shinichi had been together for quite a long time, but in the end, they had only met in preschool. To have someone that had been in your life forever, as a constant, and to have them stolen away from you... that wasn't a feeling that she understood.

She might have, if the pill he had been given worked as it should- but in that sense, Shinichi had been lucky. She might not be able to do anything for him, but at the very least, if she could do something for Heiji, then...

Well, that said, she still wasn't fully convinced of this endeavor. It was, essentially, amateur necromancy, and though there were no laws against in Japan, it was generally something that was rather frowned upon. If her mother ever learned that she had any involvement with this, then...

She'd just have to hope that she never did.

"Alright then, Kazuha-chan." Drawing in a long breath, resigning herself to commit to this, regardless of how it ended up, Ran rolled up her sleeves. "I'll help you. But if this doesn't work, it ends here."

It looked as if she wanted to protest to that- but for whatever reason, Kazuha seemingly thought better of it. Perhaps on some level, she realized the absurdity of what it was that she was asking her to help with, even if it otherwise didn't seem that she had so much as stopped to consider it, even once. In fact, if Ran didn't know any better, it was almost as if Kazuha had just run with the idea, as soon as it had popped into her head.

"I understand." Kazuha said, though her tone made it rather clear to her that she didn't intend to actually keep that promise. Still, she'd cross that hurdle when, and if, they came to it. For both of their sakes, she could only hope that it would. "Then, Ran-chan, if ya could. I'd hate ta be in here when the lightning strikes!"

Ah, so it would seem as if she really did have some sense left after all, Ran found herself thinking- a thought for which she only felt a little bit guilty for. Normally, she would shame herself for thinking such a thing but well... normally, people didn't attempt to resurrect their childhood friends, either.

And most certainly, almost never with a contraption that looked more fit to kill a man, than to save him. But well... since she had agreed to help her, in the end, she supposed there was a limit to how much she could say.

She couldn't believe it.

She really couldn't believe it. It was happening right in front of her and she still couldn't believe it. Since the storm had cleared up, leaving behind only puddles as proof it had actually been there, she couldn't even pass it off as some kind of trick of the bad weather, even if she wanted to.

It had worked.

It had actually, really, worked.

With nary a single fragment of magic in her body, Toyama Kazuha had brought back the dead- and to full sentience at that, given the very first thing he did upon coming to his senses was wonder, very loudly, about where the hell he was, and why the hell he was buck ass naked.

Which was... actually a fair question. Why was he naked anyways?

"Um... Hattori-kun?" Ran finally spoke up, trying very hard to keep her gaze leveled on well... anything but the family jewels, she supposed. It was one thing when he had been a lifeless corpse, but now, she couldn't help but think that Shinichi wouldn't approve of the mental comparisons she was currently in the middle of making.

(Provided they still worked, Kazuha would be a very lucky girl.)

"Wha- Neechan's here too!?" Though his word came out with a bit of a slur to them, they were nonetheless understandable. The fact that he could recognize those around him, and even use his usual naming sense for them was promising, she supposed. "Ya wanna tell me what the hell's goin' on here, Kazuha?"

"Eh, ya don't remember, Heiji?' Kazuha asked, a look of surprise flashing across her face, even as she tossed him what thankfully, appeared to be a change of clothes. "I thought fer sure ya would have remembered dyin'!"

"Dy-!" Heiji nearly sputtered, his words cut off by the clothes that had been chucked at him. "What do ya mean, I died!?"

"Just what I said." Kazuha told him, placing her hands on her hips, casting a glance down towards the clothes she'd tossed into his lap. "Now, get changed. Ya can't just be flashin' Ran-chan all day."

"I don't see why I'm naked in the first place." Heiji repeated, his brows furrowing together. "An' what do ya mean, just like ya said? I don't remember a thing about-!"

From the way he stopped short, it was clear that his memories had finally caught up to him. Placing a hand against his head, just barely avoiding coming into contact with the bolt that had been drilled in there, Heiji's pupils seemed to shrink. "...I died, didn't I?"

"Ya did. But it's fine now!" Kazuha proudly declared, placing a hand over her chest, beaming from ear to ear. "Since yers truly here brought ya back ta life! With a little help from Ran-chan, of course! Now put on yer dang clothes already Heiji, ya can't just be naked all day long!"

"What, ya can't give a guy a few minutes fer an existential crisis?" Heiji asked, drawing his hand away from his head, and blessedly, Ran thought, making a move for the clothes that he had been given. "Fine, fine, I'll put some dang clothes on, but I'll make a note that I had no dang say in havin' 'em off ta begin with."

"Don't worry, Hattori-kun, I won't hold it against you."

"Good. Hold it against Kazuha." Heiji noted, starting to pull on the pair of boxers that he had been given, making a small face at Kazuha as he did so. "Can't believe ya raided my underwear drawer."

"Oh please, like it's anythin' that I haven't seen before." Kazuha said, rolling her eyes. "I think ya'd be more grateful ta me Heiji, seein' as I brought ya back ta life an' all."

"An' I'm sure I will be, once I have time to actually process what the hell happened." Heiji noted. "Can't believe I died."

"Are you feeling alright, Hattori-kun?" Ran finally asked, somewhat grateful that he had managed to actually get some pants on now.

"That's a damn good question, Neechan." Heiji noted, barely sparing her so much as a glance. She got the feeling that he was having some trouble moving his body- though he quickly seemed to be getting used to it. Well, given that his limbs had basically been sewn back on, she could only imagine there would be some problems here and there. Perhaps in time, he would be able to move the way he normally did.

She still couldn't believe it worked.

"The hell did ya even do, Kazuha?" Heiji asked, his tone rather incredulous. "Ya say ya brought me back ta life, but I know full well ya don't have a dang ounce of magic in yer body, an' there's no way Neechan knows any forbidden magic, so how am I here talkin' ta ya if I'm supposed ta be dead?"

"A thank ya would be nice." Kazuha said, her brows furrowing together.

"Thank ya. Now what exactly did ya do ta me?"

"That's a very good question." Kazuha said, folding her arms in front of her chest, giving him a very sage nod of her head. "Because I don't know. But I guess it really doesn't matter, since it seems ta have worked perfectly!"

The moment of silence that was shared between them seemed to stretch on forever- until, as if they had planned on it, both Ran and Heiji broke it at once, their voices rising louder than almost any thunderclap.

"EH!?"

#detective conan #halloweenverse au #mouri ran #toyama kazuha #hattori heiji

[sappire-charizard]

Laziest background ever or laziest background ever? I wanted to draw Magic, my first Gyarados I caught back when I was six and playing Red for the first time. Needless to say, I was a victim of the Magikarp salesman and I literally spent all of my remaining money (that I kept losing anyway because I was terrible at battling) on buying her.

I had to face Mt. Moon with no potions or repels because of her and I loved her a lot.

Bonus origin story:

"Hey, kid." Sappire turned her head towards the voice, giving her legs another swing as they hung over the edge of the couch in the center's lobby. "Mm?" "Hey there." Grinning, the man dared to inch a little closer to where she sat, causing her to lean away instinctively.

He was a stranger and Charmeleon was still back being healed, leaving her- an out-of-shape six year old- pretty much defenseless. His choice in clothes further made her nervous; dark glasses and a wide-brimmed hat shielded most of his face from view, and he wore a long brown trench coat that made his exact build impossible to determine. In all honestly, she thought to herself, he looked exactly like one of the men from the PSAs they liked to play in the Pokemon center waiting rooms. The men they usually cautioned young trainers to stay away from. "Um," she said at last, dropping her eyes to the floor and tensing her shoulders. "Hi." "Hey," he said again, coming still closer, "you all alone?" "Mm," she replied, not wanting to admit to anything. Maybe if he thought she had someone else there he'd leave her alone. "I don't bite! C'mon, you come here with anyone? An older brother maybe?" Sappire shook her head. "What about a mommy or daddy?" She didn't want to respond to that and placed her hands on either side of her on the cushion, inching towards the edge of her seat as if she intended to get up. "Oh now, hey!" The man started to reach a hand out towards her shoulder in an effort to stop her, but paused a second later when a threatening growl was heard from the direction of the center's main counter not far away. "Hold on-!" came the harried voice of the nurse, only to be stopped when a very large, very angry Charmeleon vaulted over the top of the front desk in a single leap and ran quickly in the direction of the two by the couch. In a moment he was positioned between the girl- who had jumped up to meet him- and the man now frozen with an arm partially outstretched. With a snarl, Charmeleon narrowed his eyes and released a puff of black smoke from his nostrils, clearly more than capable of stopping anyone from laying a hand on his human. Though the stranger returned his hand to his side for fear of losing it- he really didn't like the look of those teeth- he found himself trapped when a nurse came running up to join them. "Charmeleon, what-?" She stopped, then turned an accusatory glare to the man that had started all of this. "What's going on?" "N-nothing," he began quickly, shoving both hands safely into his coat pockets. "I just saw the little lady was sitting alone and-" Charmeleon took a step towards him, lowering his head like a creature preparing for an attack. Unsurprisingly, this did wonders for speeding up the explanation. "I was- I was just looking for a customer! I thought maybe she knew someone and-" "What kind of customer?" the nurse demanded, placing her hands on her hips. "I'm just a small businessman-" "What kind of customer?" "Here- here, uh," he undid the top button of his coat and reached into it, removing a single pokeball polished to a shine from some unseen pocket. For a split second, Charmeleon looked braced for an attack, but the man immediately placed it gingerly on the couch cushion and gave it a nervous pat. "There," he went on, sounding desperately hopeful, "it's uh- this one's on the house. Just a- just a gift! Go ahead, little girl, just, uh... I'll be going." "Now wait just a second-!" The nurse's protest fell on deaf ears and the man practically sprinted past her to escape, holding on to his coat as though afraid something would fall out in his attempt at a getaway. The next second he had rushed out the center's front doors and off in the direction of Mt. Moon. Hmph'ing in disgust, the nurse turned back to Sappire and leaned over, watching as Charmeleon turned back to her and nudged her shivering form with his dark nose. "Are you alright, hun?" she asked gently. Sappire took her Charmeleon's head in both hands for a second before pulling him in for a tight hug around his neck. "Mm-hm. I think so." "That's good. Did you catch that man's name?" "No." "That's alright, don't worry. Your Pokemon are already healed up- Charmeleon, here, just jumped the gun a minute ago and ran out of the examination room." Releasing the Pokemon in question from the choking hug, Sappire took a step back to look at him in awe. "Did you know I was scared?" "Meleon." "T-that's so cool!" The nurse smiled faintly at seeing some of the tension lift and straightened back up, instead approaching the pokeball that the man had left behind. Before she could walk away with it, however, Sappire stopped her. "C-can I see what's in the pokeball?" "Hm? Oh, well..." She turned back to the little girl with some confusion. "It might be a dangerous-" "That's okay!" Sappire brought her little fists up even with her chest as though she herself was ready to fight. "Charmeleon is feeling better, right? He can take 'em!" As if in agreement, Charmeleon turned to the nurse and raised his head in pride. "Well-" "Please? Just for my Pokedex?" Dropping her arms so she could wiggle free of her backpack, she shoved a hand into one of the side pockets to remove the device that had been given to her by the professor. "I'll just- I'll just read its Pokedex entry and then you can return it. Pretty please? The professor wants me to see all the Pokemon in the whole world and it's gonna take a really really long time and- and maybe it's a rare one!" Though she hesitated, the nurse finally sighed and wrapped her fingers more tightly around the ball, turning it outward. "Alright. Only for a second." "Yay!" A flash of white light later and all three of those present found themselves staring down at a rather pathetic Magikarp. It gave a single flop of its tail in response to being released, but then lay still.

A little too still.

Sappire's Pokedex beeped to life, but it was quickly thrown on the couch beside her as both girl and her Charmeleon dropped down onto the floor to better observe it and confirm that it hadn't immediately died on the spot. The nurse herself dropped the pokeball and brought both hands to her mouth with a quiet gasp before her training kicked in and she turned back towards the front desk where an obliviously calm Chansey now stood. "Chansey! Get the doctor- it's an emergency!" "Cha~ansey," came the cheerful response as the large pink blob turned around to comply. "Sappire- Sappire, don't touch it." Sappire was, in fact, touching the Magikarp when the nurse looked again. She was stroking it, to be exact, and talking softly to it as she tried to determine its condition. It was still breathing, but that much was only noticeable thanks to the wheeze in the poor thing's lungs. More interestingly, though, was that petting it on its side resulted in a thick coat of green slime on the girl's hand when she removed it. It smelled a little too much like raw sewage, and made it obvious that it hadn't come from the cleanest home environment. "It's so dirty," Sappire said quietly, turning concerned eyes up to the nurse. "Is it- is it gonna be okay?" "... The doctor will be out here shortly and we'll take her back to the... to a special room."

---

Sappire was again sitting on the couch in the center's lobby, a single pokeball in her lab as she swung her legs anxiously in the air. At her side, Charmeleon had curled up on the cushion and rested his head over her arm, joining her in staring at the ball. Waiting was hard. The light above the door where the Magikarp had been taken had remained on for a good hour now, and the girl was beginning to doubt that any good news would ever come. Finally, with a deep breath, Sappire slipped her arm out from under her Pokemon's head and rested the hand on top of him, giving him a small pat. "It looked really bad," she said, still speaking softly in the otherwise empty room. "It... it probably hurt a lot." A tiny nod. "Char." "If... if it hurt a lot, maybe... maybe it would be better if... if..." "Char?" Sappire clenched her small fists, allowing the pokeball to settle in the folds of her skirt as she placed her hands on either knee and stared down hard at it. "If- a Pokemon is in a lot of pain, then... then sometimes it d-dies," she managed, swallowing a lump in her throat as tears started to fill her eyes. "That- that's what mommy used to say. A-and sometimes that's better 'cause it doesn't... it doesn't feel anything any more." Charmeleon lifted his head to nudge her arm gently, hating to see her upset. It was a Pokemon's job to help their trainers, wasn't it? Surely there was something he could do to make her feel better about things. Before he had the chance to try, however, the light above the door finally dimmed and the nurse from before stepped out of the double doors very carefully, pausing to look around the room. Noticing Sappire was still there, she tried to put on a small smile. "Sappire?" The girl looked up, tears now running down her face as her hands returned to the pokeball, gripping it tightly in hopes that it would give her some kind of strength. Looking sympathetic, the nurse's smile became just a little more genuine when she saw the tears. "The Magikarp should be fine." Sappire swallowed another lump in her throat. "R-really?" "Her lungs were very... dirty," the nurse went on, trying her best to simplify their findings for the little girl. "She's still very weak, but... would you like to come back and visit her?" Choking out a sob, Sappire stumbled off of the couch, barely aware that she was still holding the pokeball in her vice grip. "Y-yes." "Please, come with me. You're welcome to come too, Charmeleon." "Meleon!"

A few minutes later found the girl and her Pokemon standing beside the small bed that the Magikarp had been tucked almost humorously in. Her scales were clean now, and her breathing was quiet and steady. Even the bad smell had been cleared away. Still, Sappire was already an emotional mess and quickly burst into tears the moment she lay eyes on the poor Pokemon. Charmeleon peered over the edge of the bed himself and tilted his head to one side, curious as to why the fish was tucked into the sheets. Didn't fish belong in the water? In response, the Magikarp gave a single flop of its tail from beneath the blankets, and Sappire finally dropped the pokeball to the floor and reached over the bed, partially lifting the Magikarp gingerly up into her arms so she could hug it, tears quickly making the sheets wet. Another feeble wiggle. "I thought you were gonna be dead!" Wiggle, wiggle. "I- I dinnit want you to be dead!" Flop. "Y-you're a good Pokemon! You're- you're a r-really good Pokemon!"

---

It was much later that night when Charmeleon dared to leave the side of his sleeping human. She had fallen asleep on the bench that was pushed against the room's window, having exhausted herself with crying and worrying, and he had been curled up on the floor beside her. They obviously weren't going to be traversing Mt. Moon tonight. Despite the fact the Magikarp was the reason for this, Charmeleon couldn't resist the opportunity to talk to her and made his way very carefully across the floor, making every effort to keep his claws from clicking on the polished tile as he moved. Coming up to the bed, he lay his head on the edge of it and inched himself closer to the fish in the middle of the blankets. {Psst,} he hissed, giving the bed a little thump with his chin. The Magikarp's eyes flew open at this interruption of her sleep and the one facing upwards moved to look at him with some curiosity. {Hi!} Charmeleon began, flashing a wide, toothy smile. {My name's Charmeleon! How are you feeling?} The Magikarp gave a little flop. {Better...?} {That's good. Sappire was really worried about you.} {S... Sappire?} {That's my human! The little girl over there.} He pointed his nose towards the bench. {She's nice.} The Magikarp flicked her eyes over to the girl for just a second. {Oh, yes. She cries a lot.} {Only because she was worried. She means well!} {I don't mind.} {Say, um... can I ask what happened? You looked really sick.} A small, anxious wiggle. {Bad things.} {Yeah, I bet! It looked really bad.} {Bad things,} she repeated, shivering, {really bad things.} {Er.} He tilted his head a little in confusion. {Do you... do you remember what kind of bad things?} {Dead. Lots of dead.} {Dead... Magikarp?} {Yes! Dead! So many dead.} She gave a small, weak hop. {They died, but they stayed. So many.} {Like... in a tank maybe?} {Yes! Small tank! Many dead! It was scary. It was full of bad things.} Charmeleon furrowed his brow at this, taking a moment to consider the somewhat broken sentences. {Were you raised there?} {Hatched. Hundreds of eggs. Small tank. Dirty.} Another short pause for consideration. {... Well, it's a good thing you're not there any more!} {... Yes.} {Is this your first time out in the world, then?} {Yes.} {It's nice out here! Sometimes it's a little scary and big, but my human is nice and she likes to battle. I like to battle, too! We're going to get really strong and beat all of the other trainers to be the best.} {... I'd like to be the best.} {Oh! Um... well, maybe you can find a human? There are a lot of them.} {No one wants me.} Again, the Charmeleon had to pause. {... Of course someone wants you.} {No,} the Magikarp sighed, {not me. No human for me. I am a disappointment.} {That's not true! Sappire was happy to see you were safe- she wouldn't have been crying like that if you had disappointed her.} {I was raised to disappoint.} {No you weren't! Well... well, maybe you were raised to think that- but it's not true. Any Pokemon can find a trainer.} {Human man sells us. He tells other humans that we are great. He gets lots of money for great Pokemon. We are not so great and we disappoint. We are brought back to him.} Charmeleon wiggled his upper body a little more on the bed, standing on the very tips of his clawed toes. {Well- well even if someone did pay for you, any Pokemon can be good.} {Not for me. I am no good.} Charmeleon frowned. Then, turning his head, he aimed his scarred, blind eye towards the Pokemon on the bed. {Here- look.} A beat, then, {... Blind?} {Completely,} he replied, turning back to face her head-on so he could see her properly. {It was an accident during a battle. Everyone said a half-blind Pokemon would never be able to battle again and told Sappire she should try something else like- like contests or something. I wanted her to replace me at first since I'd slow her down.} {But... she did not?} {No. She didn't. She just buckled down on the training and tried to teach me how to work with a blind spot. I'm good, too! I even beat the Pokemon that took that eye from me. Everyone said I wasn't good and that- that I would only bring disappointment. Sappire proved them wrong! That's what humans do. Humans see things that are bad and try to make them good. They're smart. They can be our eyes when we lose one- or even both- and they take care of us. You can find a human to take care of you, too.} {I cannot fight.} {Well... well maybe not yet! But you could! Like that backpack Sappire always carries around with her? It's got a Pokemon inside. A Kakuna! Kakuna can't even move, but Sappire keeps insisting that he'll evolve one day and be useful. Right now he's just kind of... sleeping, I guess. But still! Maybe you'll evolve one day, too.} {I... don't know.} {You won't know until you try! Maybe you'll evolve and be really, really strong! You've just got to find a human to help you. They can take you places and teach you things. They can keep an eye on you while you're weak.} {... I would like that.} {Yeah! See,} Charmeleon smiled once again, {you've just got to believe in yourself a little. You're away from the weird man now, so you can find a trainer that won't be expecting something else from you. They'll catch you just for you.} Magikarp gave a small, almost excited little flop among the sheets. {Maybe I will. Maybe I will be strong!} Laughing softly, Charmeleon finally lowered his feet fully back to the floor, leaning away from the bed. {For now you should sleep. You need to heal up before you can get strong.} {I will rest.} {And then you can wake up in the morning and be ready for the new day!} {I hope it will be a good day. I would like to be strong soon.} {You will be. Just don't try to rush it.} {I will try.} {Good night, then. Sleep well!} {Good night, Charmeleon.}

---

"Okay, so Magikarp with white whiskers are girls," Sappire was muttering, perched on the edge of the recovering Magikarp's bed and consulting her Pokedex. She paused here, however, to look at the Pokemon in question and grin. "So that's how come everyone knew right away that you were a girl!" She wiggled a little in response.

The nurse had already been in that morning and informed everyone that the Magikarp would be free to go shortly. It was too complicated to go into when speaking to a child, but they were presently attempting to track down the man who had been trying to sell her in hopes of hitting him with a charge relating to the state his 'merchandise' was in. Unfortunately, it seemed as though the search turned up nothing and, as a result, it was around noon when the nurse returned with an almost sad smile. "Everything's settled," she announced. "Magikarp is free to go." "Yay!" Sappire sprung off the bed and broke into a wide smile, stopping for a moment to turn and pick up the wiggling fish into her arms before turning back to the nurse, struggling to hold onto her. "Where does- where does Magikarp go now?" "Well." the nurse paused and crouched down so she was about level with the little girl. "Well you see, she doesn't have a trainer any more." "Okay." "That means she has to go back to the wild until she can find a new one." Sappire frowned just a little. "... But she might not be better yet." "We think she's well enough to fend for herself. Pokemon heal very quickly, after all. Would you like to come with us to release her?" The girl hesitated, giving the squirming Magikarp a little squeeze as she considered her options. "... Okay."

A few minutes later found Sappire and the nurse standing beside a small pond tucked away in a corner of Mt. Moon's craggy border. At Sappire's side, Charmeleon was looking at the little collection of water suspiciously. It was a little out of the way. There was a chance no trainers would think to stop here while traveling. Sappire seemed to have similar qualms and hugged the fish a little more tightly to herself, causing it to squirm around in her arms. "Are you sure this is a good place?" she asked, looking to the nurse. "It's the nearest body of water," the nurse replied. "She can stay here as long as she wants until a trainer comes along." "Is she gonna be safe here?" "Most aggressive Pokemon stay away from the area near the Pokemon center. I'm sure she'll be fine." Sappire crouched down very carefully, arms still around the Magikarp, but stopped again before placing her in the water. "Do you think she'll find a nice trainer?" The nurse smiled kindly. "I'm sure she will." Leaning forward, the girl came within inches of letting her go only to stop yet again and look back at the nurse. "What about her pokeball?" "We've already deactivated it. That means we've turned it off so someone else can catch her in a new one." "A nice person, though, right?" "Of course." At last, if a little reluctantly, Sappire dropped the Magikarp into the small pool before sitting back on her heels and watching as she flicked around in the water eagerly. At least the water was clean and probably easier to swim in than wherever it was she had come from. That was a plus. Charmeleon released a happy growl as he bent down near the water's edge, grinning at the surface. In response, the Magikarp chose to give a particularly impressive jump out of the water only to come crashing back down and send the splash directly into his face. As he sat back and snorted, shaking his head to dry it, Sappire again looked back at the nurse. "Can I stay here and talk to her a little?" "Of course you can," she replied, giving her a little pat on the head. "I'm going to head back inside, though, if you'll be alright." "Okay."

The minutes that followed were mostly spent in silence with Sappire staring down at the water with a look of deep concentration on her face. Finally, she leaned forward and placed her hands at the waters edge. "Magikarp?" A rustle of water and then the orange head emerged, curious. "Are you feeling better?" A little nod. Or at least it looked like a nod- it was hard to tell when her face was practically built into her body. "Do you... do you want a trainer?" Another full-body nod. Sappire hesitated, chewing her lip nervously for a second. Then, finally, "... I kind of want a water type Pokemon." "Kaaarp?" "I have Charmeleon and- and Drills, so that's fire and bug and poison, and Otto is flying and normal and... and I don't have a water type. Water types are supposed to be good for Mt. Moon." She turned pleading eyes on the Magikarp. "You're a good Pokemon. W-would you... would you like to be my water type?" The Magikarp stared at her for a moment, eyes wider than usual at the proposition. "I mean- you don't have to. You're probably still a little tired and stuff but..." She bit her lip again before sliding the backpack off her shoulders and shoving a hand into a random pocket. Pulling out a pokeball, she held it up to the edge of the little pond. "If you want," she said quietly, "you can come with me. If- if you don't want to, you can just stay here and wait for someone else. I know I'm little and I have a whole lot to learn but- but I really like you. I think you're really strong." Cautiously, the Magikarp swam a little closer to the pokeball, looking at it as though trying to determine if it were a trick or not. When Sappire continued to hold it in place, she released a delighted shout of "Kaaaarp!" and lunged, allowing the light to engulf her.

She would be strong one day. She had a human now.

xxx

"Okay, Magic," Sappire was saying, holding the Magikarp in the shallow part of the river outside Cerulean Cave, "Splash!" Magic obeyed, flailing wildly between her trainer's hands and wiggling her fins around in glee. This had been their training for the past week. Sappire had been stumped by the difficulty of Nugget Bridge, and even being young she could still come to conclusion that if the bridge was hard, the gym would be impossible. As a result, her and the team had come out here near the river's shoreline every morning and she would wade in up to her ankles to hold on to her Magikarp and command her to splash. The goal, ultimately, was to teach her to escape from her trainer's grip in hopes it would help her to become more mobile and useful in battle. Charmeleon's task was to ward off any Pokemon that came too close hoping to take advantage of either of the girl or Magic, and Drills- that is, the Kakuna that was now a Beedrill- hovered around her head to cheer them on. Drills knew firsthand how it felt to be useless. He'd struggled with being trapped in a cocoon for long enough to understand the frustration of being unable to contribute. As such, he quickly became the Magikarp's personal cheerleader.

Magic flailed a few more times in the water before pausing, out of breath from the burst of exertion. "Ha!" Sappire threw her head up, triumphant. "I win again!" "Karp-karp," Magic admitted, sounding defeated. "Karp." "Aw, no, you'll get away one of these times! You've just gotta keep trying." "Maybe you should just let her get away." Sappire turned at the strange voice, and felt the brush of Drills' wings as he dropped to shoulder height, buzzing angrily at the interruption. At first, the red hair and swimsuit of the approaching woman meant nothing to the girl, but then she spun around- releasing Magic in the process- and pointed an accusing finger. "You're Misty!" "That's right," the gym leader replied, sounding stern as she came to a stop in front of the young trainer. Throwing her towel over her shoulder, she frowned as her eyes flicked towards the water's surface. "What do you think you're doing to that poor Pokemon?" "W-what?" "That Magikarp. It's cruel to hold them like that- it's not like they can get away from you." Sappire glanced down at the water around her feet where Magic now sat propped up against her ankle to watch the conversation. "N-no, see, I was..." "No excuses!" Misty crossed her arms over her chest and looked furious at this development. "I see kids come out here all the time to bother the local water Pokemon- and I'm sick of it! You either need to learn how to respect them or else-" "Meleon!" From the tall grass nearby, Charmeleon's voice caused the woman to stop and look in some surprise. A second later, the Pokemon himself had leapt from the damp greenery and darted around her, placing himself between his human and the stranger much as he had at the base of Mt. Moon. Sappire bent down and scooped up Magic and stepped out of the water, standing carefully behind Charmeleon and holding her Magikarp close. "She's my Magikarp," Sappire said, speaking quietly and looking nervous. "I wanted to train her to be strong enough to get away." Drills reminded them of his presence by buzzing in agreement. This was delaying their training and he very much wanted to get back on track. Glancing between all three Pokemon present, Misty finally settled her gaze back on the girl. "Aren't you a little... little?" "I'm six!" Sappire replied, giving her Magikarp another squeeze. "Professor Oak gave me Charmeleon and- and I caught everyone else by myself." "Are you traveling alone?" "No. The professor is s'posed to be showing me around a little." "Wait a second..." The woman crouched down so she could better see the Charmeleon- who snorted in frustration at her- and her eyes widened when her gaze fell on his scarred eye. "You're the blind Charmeleon Brock was talking about!" "Char?" "Charmeleon beat Brock by himself!" Sappire offered, sounding more than a little proud of the fact. "I've got his badge on my backpack. We're gonna- we're gonna try and beat all the gym leaders!" Misty straightened back up and looked doubtful of this. "With a Charmeleon and a Beedrill?" "Well- well I have a Pidgeotto, too! She's in her ball, but she's strong! And- and Magic, here, is our newest friend so-" "So that's really your Magikarp?" "Mm-hm! R-right, Magic?" As the girl looked down at the Pokemon in her arms, she was greeted with an enthusiastic "Karp!" and an excited wiggle. For Magic, the idea that she was part of a team was the best thing she could possibly be reminded of.

One day soon she'd be strong. She'd be strong enough make her trainer proud.

---

The day Magic broke away from Sappire's hands and slipped right into the water was the day she knew she was getting closer to reaching her goal. She could feel herself getting stronger, and the force she used to free herself from Sappire's grip had sent the girl flying into the knee-deep water herself. Magic had only been able to celebrate for a brief second because of this, as the next she had swam up to her fallen trainer with concern, only to be met with her sitting up and laughing through the coughing up of river water. It had made a good start to the day. For that matter, Drills and Charmeleon hadn't been idle, either. Though the mornings had been spent in the water, the afternoons were spent with them sparring in the tall grass, working on their speed and ability to dodge. Even Otto had brought herself to join in to make the battles all the more challenging. As a result of the combined improvement across the board, the evening found Sappire finally standing at the end Nugget Bridge, Pokemon huddled around her, and grinning widely at the upcoming challenge. She'd beat the bridge and then she'd beat Misty. Her team was going to be unstoppable. Hugging a squirming Magic close to her- the Magikarp had grown large enough she was now almost too big for her to hold in both arms- she led the group unto the first plank.

The battles moved swiftly due to the week's worth of training they'd done and Charmeleon alone had been able to make swift work of almost everyone on his own. Drills had been eager to help with the few poison types they encountered along the way, but when they came to the final young trainer with a Mankey Otto came out of her Pokeball long enough to secure the final win.

"Congratulations!" The man at the end of the bridge announced, laughing as the little girl came bobbing up to him with her Magikarp still held close. "You've beaten all the trainers and won a prize!" As he reached into the bag at his side to remove one of the nuggets he kept for the victorious trainers, the girl grinned and turned back to behold the now empty bridge. After losing, they'd all retreated to the Cerulean center, grumbling about having to heal their Pokemon again. It solidified her confidence that she had done a good job to see them still missing. Turning back to the man clad in black just as he pulled out the lump of gold that was her prize, she ventured a question. "Where do you find so much gold to give away?" "Hm?" He glanced at her, then to the prize in his hand. "Oh, my boss gives 'em to us." "That's awful nice of him." "It is! He's a generous kinda guy. Maybe when you grow up you could work for him? You've got some good Pokemon there and he's always looking for more help." Not missing a beat, Sappire's smile widened. "What kind of help?" "Oh, you know. Collecting things." "What kind of things?" "Pokemon and uh... other stuff. Do you have a hand for the nugget or-?" "Charmeleon can carry it for me!" At the sound of his name, Charmeleon pulled himself away from the water's edge where he had been watching some of the fish and approached the man cheerfully. Just as he went to accept the gift, however, the man pulled his hand away and recoiled in terror. "The blind Charmeleon!" Both trainer and Pokemon tilted their heads almost in sync at his sudden outburst. "Do you know my Charmeleon?" The man stumbled back against the fence behind him, shoving the nugget back into his bag as his other hand went to the pokeballs on his belt. "You were the kid from Mt. Moon! It was you-!" "Mt. Moon-?" Sappire continued to look confused for a few seconds, and then something clicked. The man's hat and his clothes, though they were a solid black and lacked any kind of insignia, looked all too familiar. "Team Rocket!" In a moment, Charmeleon had taken a battle stance, head lowered and teeth bared. Before he could strike, however, the man had already sent out both an Ekans and Sandshrew. Squaring her shoulders, Sappire braced herself for the upcoming battle. "Charmeleon, Ember! Drills-" she stopped, then turned around in confusion, "... where did Drills go?" Unfortunately, the temporary distraction cost her a moment later. While Charmeleon had taken it upon himself to lunge for the Sandshrew, flames licking at the corners of his mouth, the Ekans was granted a rare opportunity.

He had a clear shot at the girl.

A dash and leaping tackle later saw Sappire falling backwards, one arm flying out to try and find something to grab on to. Just as the snake opened its mouth wide to show off venomous fangs, however, angry buzzing filled the air as a single sharp drill drove neatly into his side, sending him flying in the other direction. By the time he rolled to a stop in the grass, Drills was already on top of him again, the second strike ready and making direct contact with his skull. As far as Drills was concerned, you didn't touch his trainer. Attempting to bring her any harm automatically made any value placed on your life null and void in his eyes.

It was all over in a moment and both Drills and Charmeleon turned to face the Rocket member, staring him down angrily and awaiting further instructions. They didn't come. A few seconds passed before Drills looked over his shoulder only to release a panicked buzz, his deadly arms falling to his side in a moment. Charmeleon only afforded a quick glance behind him, unwilling to let the grunt out of his sight, only to do a double-take and spin his entire body about.

Their trainer was gone, leaving only a small puddle on the grass where she had been standing, evidence that she had stumbled back into the water and was now the source of the occasional bubble rising to the surface. Needless to say, both Pokemon immediately forgot the importance of the Rocket and rushed to the shore, peering down into the depths in desperate hopes of locating her. Despite their buzzing and calling, however, no answer came.

Sappire herself was presently curled up around her Magikarp, panicking internally as her held breath began to slowly run out. She couldn't swim. She had never had reason to learn. Even now, clinging to Magic, she had no idea where to even begin if she wanted to reach the surface again. Magic wiggled in her arms again, and at last the girl released her. Did Magic need air? Sappire wasn't entirely sure, but it wouldn't make sense to keep her from it. At least Magic could swim if she needed to. "Karp," Magic began, swimming around so she was near the girl's head. "Karp-karp?" Sappire couldn't respond, looking at her Pokemon with nothing short of pure terror in her eyes. "Karp! Karp, karp!" Still no response. It was so quiet underwater, Sappire realized suddenly. Aside from Magic's frantic attempts at getting a response, there was no sound. There was no anything, really. It was slowly getting darker, and soon she suspected there wouldn't even be any light. Closing her eyes against the idea, she wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. In a panic, now, Magic relocated herself to underneath her trainer, swimming upwards in a vain attempt to push the small body back to the surface. Humans needed air. Her human needed air. Her human- the only human who had been willing to keep her and treat her well and make her feel useful- her human was going to drown if she didn't get air.

Curse her stupid, useless body. If she couldn't even get her human back to safety- back to land- then what good was she? If she could just swim harder.

Back at the water's edge, Charmeleon had taken to pacing anxiously, pausing every few seconds to lean towards the water itself and get his nose so close he was almost touching it, only to retreat again. He couldn't swim. Even if he knew how, it was no secret that suffocating his tail flame would result in his own untimely death. Without a doubt, if he were to dive in after his trainer- as desperately as he wanted to- he'd be dead before he could even locate her. Drills likewise knew his own jumping into the water would end no better. He'd sink like a rock and be unable to offer any help on his way down. Buzzing overhead, he flitted from one end of the small river shoreline to the other, hoping for any trace of the girl floating back to the surface. If she could just get that far, he was confident he could get a hold of her somehow and fly her back to land safely.

Just as the wait began to stretch into the minutes, another bubble surfaced, larger than the others, and brought with it a terrifying finality. Both Pokemon started to react in horror, but both were also silenced a second later when the surface of the river all but exploded upward.

At first it looked as though a pillar of water had risen from the depths of its own accord, but once the shower had died down this proved to be false.

Charmeleon and Drills were staring up at a giant Gyarados.

Huge, translucent fins ran down either side of her back, fluttering delicately despite the creature's explosive entrance, and the face was thin and sleek, built for beauty over raw power. Even the tail that floated to the surface behind the beast was thin and fragile-looking, though much longer than that of a normal Gyarados. Opening her mouth and revealing a set of razor-sharp teeth, she let out a deafening roar that made the ground shake beneath their feet, and a single flick of her webbed tail sent a small wave washing over the nearby bridge. She might have been pale and delicate compared to others of her kind, but her size highlighted the fact that she was just as deadly.

For just a moment, both Charmeleon and Drills forgot about their trainer in the face of a terrifying sea monster that had seemingly materialized out of nowhere. Then, before they could even recover, the graceful head bowed low and the pointed nose touched the shore, giving itself a little shake to cause the small form of Sappire to slide off of it, sputtering and choking and gasping for the air she had been deprived of for too long. As Drills rushed to their trainer's side in concern, Charmeleon allowed himself a moment to stare up at the Gyarados in awe. He started to open his mouth to thank her, but was stopped when she turned familiar eyes to him and the corners of her great mouth curled upwards in a small smile.

{I have finally become strong.}

#gyarados #pokemon #art #writing #sort of? #also I feel like I should mention the entire foreground and grass and stuff was ms paint #the background was done in like three seconds in paintshop studio #I put zero effort into those clouds #I almost left the background white then I thought I may as well use a cheap gradient just so it doesn't look so empty #also fun fact about six year old me: #I had no patience #like negative patience #how did I get a gyarados? #I was fueled by a need to convince myself that I hadn't just wasted my last 500p #I refused to accept that #I was going to MAKE Magic good #and I did #she learned bubblebeam from Misty's TM and I felt invincible #and for the record this is kind of what I would imagine a contest gyarados variant would be bred to look like #somehow the magikarp salesman accidentally got a show magikarp mixed into his batch of scam fodder #in the top right is the difference in scale shapes between the show breed and a regular gyarados #just in case you were wondering why a pair of scales were floating in the sky

[cecilspeaks]

Ghost Stories

You can purchase Ghost Stories here.

Transcript of the bonus tracks here.

1. Intro

Meg Bashwiner: And now, listeners of every kind: the voice of Night Vale, Cecil Baldwin!

[applause]

Cecil: We have nothing to fear but fear itself. Also many other things, several of which can be found in your home. Welcome to Night Vale!

Listeners, honest honored listeners, Cecil here as always your voice to carry you through the lonely hours. Today is a very special day indeed. Today, as we all know, is the annual Night Vale ghost story contest. In which every citizen is required to put forward their scariest, spookiest tale of spectors and haunts. The City Council chooses their favorite, and the winner is, through a process that is truly terrifying in its simplicity, turned into a ghost. The losers are forced to continue in forms that primarily depend upon the containment and transportation of oozes and glob.

Now I’m sure that you’ve all been preparing your own entry for the ghost story contest, since all of you will soon have to stand up and deliver it to the gathered people. But before all of you each individually have your turn, I thought that I might indulge myself for a moment and tell you my own entry to your ghost story contest. Are you all OK with that? [applause] I have no idea what you just said so, gonna nod and give myself a thumbs up and I think we’re all good here.

2. Horoscopes

But first, let’s have a look at today’s horoscopes. Leo? [silence] Leo? [audience whoops] Leo! Bet all your money on red! All those material possessions were only weighing you down. Soon you will be in many ways – free-er than the rest of us.

Virgo? You know that one spot on your back that itches and itches and itches and you just can’t stand it? Well, good thing: you won’t have to deal with that or anything else after tomorrow night.

Libra? Draw your loved ones closer to you. That first drawing you did was no good, no, draw them like closer to you. There’s too much white space on the page! How are your loved ones supposed to love you if you can’t even draw them right?

Scorpio? OK so, I think we all know by now that this is the sign of.. uuughhh.. Steve Carlsberg. Who is my sister Abby’s husband. Now, usually the horoscope just happens to turn out something quite mean for Scorpio. Purely through the unknowable combination of fate and random chance that is the meeting of the stars. But Abby said that the stars had better knock that off! Especially if they want to be invited to their niece Janice’s first ballet fight. So, let’s see how this goes. Scorpio. Things are looking bright. What a great day you have before you! Look how clear the sky, how green the grass how – dumb and oversized your feet look. [gleefully] No really, I hope you don’t trip or rip your pants not even once! How terrible it would be if that happened! But it probably won’t through, so there you go. [mutters] Scorpios…

Sagittarius?  Ahahahahahahaha, aahahahahahahaha, aaahahahahahaha!

Capricon? Things fall apart, the center cannot hold, mere anarchy is loosed upon the world. The blood (--) [02:42] tide is loosed upon the world and everywhere! So your home carpentry project will not go well next week. There’s just too much blood.

Aquarius? OK, you are just two dogs in a trench coat, Aquarius. I mean I hate to break it to you, but you have no opposable thumbs, or language skills. And you’ve always been two dogs in a trench coat! [cooing] Yes you are, yes you arrre!! [kissing noises] Now go outside! Good dogs!

Pisces?  If you don’t have anything nice to say, try saying something mean. I mean there are lots of options for things to say.

Aries? Ooh. OK, so this horoscope is just a picture of a bear. And next to the bear is the lizard and next to the lizard is the pelican. And there’s a combined speech bubble above them all that says “We regret the storm that took your lives.” And they’re smiling and (-) [0:03:57] some mugs of beer together. And they have their feet up on skulls. And if you look really closely you’ll notice that they’re not standing on a pile of sticks, but on a pile of human bones?! And unfortunately I believe that in this cartoon, Aries – you’re the pelican!

Taurus? No sunshine for you, Taurus! Nope! The sun’s light has been blocked, but only for you. Oh yes, everyone else will walk in sunny rays, sunshades and shorts, wide smiles and hat brims, SPF 50 and a Frisbee at the beach. You will likely lose feeling in your skin due to the cold of a [sinister voice] sunless world! [friendly voice] Good luck!

Gemini? They say an onion has many layers. Gemini, you are like that onion. Time has peeled away, one after another, each of your hard, pungent layers: snap, snap, snap! They (pry) off and urgent fingernails pry away the remnants as you grow smaller, wetter, less complex. Ooh, also like an onion, your odor makes as cry.

Cancer? Well this just says “chainsaw accident”. So I bet that’s a metaphor for something really goood!

3. A Word from our Sponsors

Cecil: And now a word from our sponsors. For that, we have a sentient patch of haze here in the studio with me, and her name is Deb! Deb?

Deb: Thank you Cecil. Today I am here on behalf American Airlines – your partner in the sky.

Cecil: Fantastic. What does American have to say to us today?

Deb: American Airlines is committed to.. [giggling] your safety! And comfort.. [giggling] and getting you into the air. It is our promise that we will get you up there. You will rise from the ground. For sure, that will happen. And you will soar above the clouds.

Cecil: Well that’s wonderful to hear, you know it’s reassuring to know that American Airlines will see us safely and comfortably through takeoff, flight, and landing!

Deb: [long beat] No Cecil. We didn’t say that. We don’t wanna promise we can’t say for sure we can deliver on. We will get you up there.

Cecil: And then what then?

Deb: Oh, what anywhen? Do we see the future?

Cecil: Oh?

Deb: No.

Cecil: No.

Deb: Life is chaotic, and it would be irresponsible to start making promises.

Cecil: Yes, but mostly you land those planes, rights?

Deb: I haven’t checked lately. But if it helps you to say that out loud, then certainly you should do that, yeah, mm hm.

Cecil: Why do I always end up so worried after talking to you, Deb?

Deb: American Airlines. What goes up, must come down. We guarantee it.

Cecil: Alright, well thank you Deb.

Deb: So you’re all telling ghost stories, huh?

Cecil: Oh yes, yes we are.

Deb: Good. I have a wonderful story of a haunting to tell. It’s very popular among us, sentient patches of haze.

Cecil: Oh please, tell it.

Deb: Once upon a time, a nice family of sentient patches of haze moved into an ooold house. They were young and optimistic and ready to start a home, but soon they realized something was teeeerribly wrong. They heard noises in the night. Voices, folky yet slickly produced singer-songwriter music. At first they assumed it was just their imagination, but soon they saw shapes in the halls and bedrooms. They noticed movement in the corner of the parts of their haze that they used to see with. One day, one of the sentient patches turned the corner and there – [disgusted] was a human standing there! As clear as a day, as opaque as flesh. Well, that poor little patch screamed and floated away. But now they knew, [creepily] there were humans haunting their house.

Cecil: Now wait. Humans often live in houses, I mean did the humans own the house?

Deb: Oh Cecil, there you go again. Serving as a propaganda mouthpiece for the capitalist machine that says sentient patches of haze aren’t allowed to move into and take over any house that a human “owns”!

Cecil: Wait, a mouthpiece for the capitalist machine? Deb, your job is literally to be a spokeshaze for multinational corporations!

Deb: Hmph! Hmph! Hmph! How dare you! My contradictions are my own to grapple with. I’m leaving. Thank you for giving me time on the air, I appreciate it.

Cecil: Well it was an ad, and I’m assuming you get paid for those?

Deb: Sure if that assumption is helpful to you, goodbye Cecil.

Cecil: Alright, thank you Deb!

4. Ghost story #1

And now, listeners, a ghost story. MY ghost story.

It begins ten years ago, on a night just like – tonight. Heavy fog covered the town of Night Vale, turning the world into a blurry approximation, familiar landmarks into educated guesses. No stars, and the full moon diffused by the mist into a soft, feeble light from all around.

A man was driving down a dark road, there were no other cars around. And on the side of the road, up ahead, he saw a figure. A figure made strange by the half-hearted moon, a brief pause in a long fog. Now the figure had its hand up. It did not (thumb) (-), but instead gave a languid wave, more of a summons than a request. And the man shivered, for he knew that it was on this very stretch of road one year to the day before that day that was ten years ago on a night just like tonight. The oooold mill, finally burned down. And when it went, there was a woman inside of it. Now, it’s hard to fathom why she was there in that abandoned disused mill, but she was. And the unthinkable happened, without anyone having to think of it at all. And since then, it has been said that in the darkest hours of the darkest nights, a young woman flags down cars on the side of the road where the old mill used to be. And if they’re foolish enough to let her into the car, she stares directly at the driver. And if the driver is foolish enough to look her in the eyes even once – she takes them to her home. A dark, eternal place from which no one, ever, returns.

Still, he couldn’t leave behind what could be a person in need of aid just because of some spooky old story. So he pulled over, and the figure reached out her hand and opened the passenger door and – there was a cold breath, air from dead lungs that the mist curled into the car, and the figure sat.

And the driver was careful to look not too closely or for too long. “Um, uh, where are you headed?” the man said, but the figure was silent. So he began to drive once again. And the fog billowed as he drove, and he could swear that he could see that old mill as it had once stood, leaning and ramshackle. Now, that mill had not been in working order in decades, it was probably just its time to go when it burned, but still. He mourned the loss of what had been a part of his own. “Where to?” he said again without turning or looking at his passenger. And the figure spoke. The figure spoke with a voice that sounded like a body hitting freezing water, like the distant thud in an old house in the smallest hours of the night. [creepy voice] “You know wheeeree,” the figure said. “You know where I want to goooo.” And he did know. “I want to go – hoooooome.”

And he held the wheel tighter, and he pressed the gas harder, and he stared unblinkingly at the door because he knew that the figure’s face was only inches away now, and staring directly at him.

Oh, listen to me yammer on! Haha. You know, I should really get to some of the other business of community radio, or Station Management will [chuckling] just kill me. [long beat] At least I hope that’s all they’ll do to me.

The rest of this ghost story soon.

5. Tamika Flynn

Cecil: But now I have a really special guest in the studio today, who has their own ghost story to tell. She is one of our community’s most active young people, having formed a militia to keep our town safe from corporations and librarians, oh – and she is also an avid reader. So please welcome to the show – Tamika Flynn! Hi Tamika!

Tamika: Hi Cecil. [chuckles]

Cecil: You said you have a ghost story that you wanna share?

Tamika: Yes. I love books so much, and one of my favorite kinds of books is the ghost book.

Cecil: The ghost book? You mean horror novel, yes?

Tamika: You say potato, I say pohtata.

Cecil: You do?

Tamika: Yeah!

Cecil: Pohtata?

Tamika: Pohtata chips, pohtata salad. Pohtata poutine.. [chuckles]

Cecil: But that’s kind of a weird way to say potato.

Tamika: Well I learned English from reading it Cecil, not from listening to it! [chuckles, snorts repeatedly] Anyways. I love ghost stories because they’re so rich with symbolism and meaning. A lot of people think that ghost stories are just a one-note tale about a ghost haunting an old house, but if you look deeper under the surface, ghost stories are really about dead people who are now invisible or translucent beings who interact with the living in antiques homes, so..

Cecil: Very important difference.

Tamika: Would you like to hear my favorite ghost story, Cecil?

Cecil: Oh yes, please!

Tamika: Many years ago, in this very town.. [whispers] there was a librarian! Ooh! And the librarian would creep around the public library, hunting and slaughtering book lovers for sport! Innocent people would go to the library hoping to find a good book, something new and interesting. Maybe a classic of modern science fiction by Octavia Butler, or some surrealist literature by Amy Bender or, oh, maybe some pedantic buzzkill space essays by Neil deGrasse Tyson. [chuckles]

Cecil: Now, wait a minute! To be fair to Neil deGrasse Tyson, his Victorian era romances are really goo-oo-ood!

Tamika: [long beat] Anyways. One day, there was a young girl, a really smart girl. [chuckles] She was also really fit, like REALLY fit! [chuckles] But also smart like the smartest girl you can know. Ahem. And also really tough. Anyways, she went to the library to get a book, and just as she was perusing a collection of plays by the 17th century poet and spy Aphra Behn, she could smell something terrible, like an infection, like wet fur. It was humid suddenly, and she felt something watching her, slithering about just over her shoulder. 

But this girl, she was fast too. She jumped to the side quickly just as a spiked tentacle came crashing down next to her, crushing the shelf containing play scripts by Pulitzer winner Annie Baker. Without thinking, the girl – she was also intuitive, like [whispers] soo intuitive! [chuckles] – she grabbed the tentacle before it could retract into the librarian’s protective shell. She then grabbed a copy of the “Complete Works of William Shakespeare” by Francis Bacon. It was the special edition that had the machete taped right there on the book jacket! [chuckles] She tore off the large knife and swung, striking the tentacle at its base. She swung again, landing an accurate blow between the soft small crevice and the hard skin. This girl was amaaaaziiiiing! The librarian shrieked, then with a double back flip – which was pretty easy for this girl… she narrowly avoided the splattering acid blood of the flailing creature and dealt a mortal blow right to its disgusting neck! She didn’t even need a blade to finish off the monster, she just used her fist! Splat! Pffffff! [breathes heavily] True story of the badass book loving girl there ever was! [chuckles]

Cecil: So this is a story about you, right? And how you defeated the librarian during the Summer Reading Program a few years back?

Tamika: Oh no. That story was about my best friend Jessica Littleton. She’s so smart and talented, [high-pitched] I just love her, she’s the best!

Cecil: OK Tamika, while I hate to nitpick, that was a really great story but that was like, [hoarsely] monster story, not like a ghoooo-oooost story.

Tamika: Well. Jessica jacked up that monster and now it’s a ghost, boom, ghost story! Well I gotta go do my math homework, and then we have the teen militia meeting this evening at the new skating rink, so bye Cecil! [chuckles]

Cecil: Bye, thank you Tamika!

6. Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner

It’s time for another edition of the Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner!

Did you know that time travel exists? OK well not yet, but we have learned from time travelers that it will be invented in just under 30 years. Now given that knowledge, I thought it’d be kind of fun to do a little experiment together, so. If you are legally allowed to own a smartphone, take that out now and open up that calendar application. No go ahead, don’t be shy!

Now what I want you to do is create a recurring event that starts on this exact day and time, and title that event, well, “travel back in time”. Ooh, and be sure to note your exact location, OK? Now, when you’ve done that, set that event to recur every year on this anniversary. That way, when your future self does eventually have access to a time machine, they’ll know to come back to this. very. Moment. And then once you’ve done all of that, hit “save” and your future self should appear immediately right in front of you!

OK, so do you see your future self? Alright, well you may have to look around just like a little tiny bit. Hold on, hold on. Do none of you see your future selves? Uh oooh…

[long silence]

Well, this has been the Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner!

7. Teddy Williams

Cecil: Now, a look at the Community Calendar. So let’s start off with an event that is happening today. To get in on the annual ghost story contest, Teddy Williams, owner of the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex, announced that he will be offering 20 per cent off admission and double game tokens for anyone who dresses up like a deceased ancestor, historical figure, or departed pet.

We have Teddy in the studio with us now to talk about some of the themed activity going on at the fun complex. Teddy?

Teddy Williams: Hello, Cecil.

Cecil: Hello.

TW: We are really getting into this ghost stories festival over at the Desert Flower today and we wanted to celebrate the spirit of the event [chuckles], no pun intended.

Cecil: No pun understood.

TW: OK well we’re getting into the ghost story.. mood. Over in the bowling lanes, we’ll be turning off all of the lights, and as customers try to navigate and stumble around in the dark, our staff will sneak up behind them and shout classic ghost things like “BOOO!” and [hoarsely] “Hello again son, I miss you, it’s so cold here”.

Cecil: Well that sounds like great fun that people will remember not unpleasantly for the rest of their lives.

TW: We hired some pretty expensive lawyers to make sure of that.

Cecil: Now Teddy, you seem to really love this day. Do you have a ghost story you wanna share?

TW: Well, OK sure. As you know we built the new skating rink on top of the old pet cemetery. And there’s this gost cat, a Persian cat. Super cute like you just wanna grab his little flat face and go [high-pitched squeaking] with your own face against his..

Cecil: Awww.

TW:..but you can’t. Because he’s a ghost and so your face just goes through, it’s just.. it’s like rrow, rrow. Anyway, turns out this cat belonged to former town billionaire Marcus Vanston. Marcus of course disappeared one day and no one knows for certain what happened to him..

Cecil: Oh, I-

TW: Or we do know, but none of us are legally allowed to say.

Cecil: Of course, because we can’t legally acknowledge the existence of..

TW: None of us are legally allowed to say Cecil, it could have been anything.

Cecil: Yeah of course. [whispers] Angel.

TW: So this ghost cat belonged to Marcus, and Marcus was so rich that he had taught the cat French.

Cecil: Ooh.

TW: Yeah. Now I myself don’t speak French, but I do have a Russian dictionary, and I feel like both languages are so dissimilar form English that they must be similar to each other.

Cecil: That’s an excellent point.

TW: Right? Anyway, the cat told me that his name is Peanut, and that he died of sorrow when his master, whom he loved so much, passed from this earth and left him alone in their vast palazzo. That as a cat, he cannot cry, so he simply shivered with sadness by himself under the basement stairs every night, until his body wasted away into such a thin whisp that the wings of death could easily and sweetly carry him off to be with his owner once again. But he has yet to reunite with Marcus and so now he has only lonely immortality and no conceivable escape.

Cecil: That’s heartbreaking!

TW: Yeah. So then I told him, [excitedly] “My name is Teddy, and I love video games!”

Cecil: Oh.

TW: [laughing] I tried to feed him one of those little fish treats. It just fell right through his… He’s forever hungry and he can never eat! Ooo, anyway. So I’ve been trying to learn Russian better so that we can speak in French.

Cecil: Sure, yeah.

TW: And he’s been coming around more often saying something that, okay sounds a little bit like “Je suis triste”, “Je suis mort”. Which I figured out means, “Hey Teddy, it’s great to see you!”

Cecil: Umm, now it’s been a moment since my French brainwashing in high school, but I’m pretty sure that “Je suis mort” means..

TW: “Great to see you” yeah, I know Cecil. Alright well, I gotta get back to the complex and I hope to see everyone out there. Now don’t forget that it’s happy hour from four to six at our bar. If you can be happy for those two straight hours, you get three-dollar draft beers and well drinks. So far, no one has been able to do it. Well, je suis mort, Cecil! Ha ha!

Cecil:  Aha, thank you Teddy! [whimpering] Oh, Peanut!

8. Steve Carlsberg

More on the Community Calendar.

So listeners, I love ghost stories because they are so disturbing, but. Within the safety of a fictional narrative. Unlike my brother-in-law Steve, who just showed up uninvited to my studio and is disturbing in real life.

Steve Carlsberg: Well, now Cecil, you asked me to come up to the station to tell my ghost story!

Cecil: What, I did? Wait, why would I do that? Is that the kind of thing that – oh yeah I do remember (--) doing that. Well, go on with your story, Steve.

SC: Okey-dokey. [clears throat] Down by the old railroad tracks, on the eastern edge of town, it is said that if you go there just after dusk, you can see the ghoooooooost childrenn!

Cecil: Alright, well, we should go now, you know. Lead the way, Steve, and all of us will be right behind you, eventually.

SC: OK. Many decades ago, a school bus full of children stalled on those train tracks. The driver – whose name was Mab – tried to stop the engine, but it just kept grinding and grinding. There was noo moon! See, this was before the moon was invented by NASA scientists. Remember I told you?

Cecil: [mumbles]

SC: Alright. Mab probably didn’t know she’d stalled on the tracks, she just kept trying to restart the engine, to nooo avail. Suddenly there was a loud horn and a deep, rhythmic rumble from below them, as the tracks trembled!

Then, in the darkness, came a light. A single yellow glow, small and distant. The light was growing, as the sound of the horn and the rumble of the tracks crescendoed. The children spotted it first. [funny voices] “It’s the sun!” one of them called. “No, it’s a lightning bear!” called another.

Mab kept trying to start the bus, the horn of the train boomed, the tracks below the bus barked and rattled, and the light was so big, moving so fast, and the kids screamed “Traaaaaiiiin! It’s a traaaaa-a-a-a-aiin!” And then they all cheered because they love trains, hahaha! And then they all watched the train pass, clapping and laughing the whole time because hey, they got to see a train! [chuckles]

Cecil: So wait, the train didn’t even hit the bus?

SC: No no no no, see, turns out the vibration of the tracks had made the bus roll over them. A near miss, whew! Well, Mab called the Bus Barn and AAA and everyone got home safe and sound. But. It is said that out at the old train tracks, just after the dusk, on a night where there is no moon, if you put some powder on the trunk of your car and stop on the train tracks, your car will begin to move slowly off the tracks, without you touching the gas pedal. And then, if you check the outside of your car, you will see a series of small handprints on the powder! The ghosts of those children who were on that stalled bus so many years ago will push your vehicle to safety!

Cecil: But those kids didn’t die, I don’t understand how they, like how are they ghosts?

SC: It happened 70 years ago, Cecil, I’m pretty sure most of those kids are ghosts by now.

Cecil: I mean, are you leaving the car in drive, because then it’ll just move on its own without you having to press the gas. Oh and plus, those handprints are probably just your own handprints that form as the powder absorbs the oils that were already there.

SC: Sounds like you’re too chicken to go out on the old train tracks..

Cecil: Ugh.

SC: ..and see the ghost hands of ghost children who all died after bearing on that stalled bus!

Cecil: Yeah, from natural causes, yeears later!

SC: Which is all after they were on the stalled bus! Who-o-o-ooo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo, spookyy, spookyy! Do you need a hug?

Cecil: No. [beat] OK Steve. [sighs]

SC: Look, it’s very scary, OK? It’s not just the handprints, but if you get there too long after dusk, the sky will be mostly void. You’ll stare into that infinite maw, sizing yourself down and down, until you understand that you are a fleck, a speck, a nothing nobody loser, who will be gone and not missed. Even the stars, for all their mass and might, are replaceable dots, soundless and similar. Even a ball of nuclear explosions, 2000 times the size of our own Earth, and which will burn mighty for millions and billions of years, is an indistinguishable blip that most can’t even name. What is the use of any of this?

Cecil: OK, now I’m actually scared.

SC: [breathes heavily] So yeah, make sure you show up at the exact right time [chuckling] to see those handprints, OK?

Cecil: OK. You’re done talking now?

SC: Yeah.

Cecil: OK, great. So listeners, we now continue with our Com- OK Steve, you gotta, you gotta go.

SC: Yeah, one hug.

Cecil: No oh geez, alright, fine.

SC: Oh there it is! Ah, we did it! Ah, I’m so scared, it’s so spooky! [chuckles] You’ll need another hug later on, (big guy).

Cecil: Alright. [sarcastically] Thank you Steve.

9. The Community Calendar

Where was I? Friday morning, the wooooop will be whoooooaaa and then later, ah ah a-a-a haha, if you catch my meaning, hahaha! [beat] Oh yes, that was probably very confusing for the radio, so. Friday morning there will be nuclear arms testing just along the canyon east of Route 800. Please remember to take shelter inside your car or under a very sturdy table. As lovable cartoon character, Andy the Atom, always screams: “A nuclear bomb is probably more afraid of you than you are of it!”

Saturday night is Night Vale high school’s annual prom. Afterwards there will be a casino-themed lock-in party. Now this is to encourage kids to stay in one place together, having fun with friends, and not being out on the streets drinking and driving. It is also to encourage kids to gamble. Some of the fun casino games featured will be lottery scratch-off tickets, Three Card Monte, and trust falls.

Monday is the day that Nostradamus told us would happen. [long beat] You know, Jeremy Nostradamus told us that this particular Monday would happen and listeners, Monday is indeed happeniiiiing-ah.

Tuesday evening at 7 PM, the Night Vale school board will be holding a hearing to discuss whether or not testing helps measure children’s abilities, or whether it’s already pretty obvious that the electrified maze is just like totally unbeatable. This hearing is open to the public.

This Wednesday will be re-experiencing last Wednesday. I mean, last Wednesday was just so much fun, we are gonna repeat it over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over… [mumbles] and over.

10. Ghost Story #2

Back to a ghost story, already in progress.

[dramatically] It was ten years ago, on a night just like tonight. Here was a man driving down a dark road. No other cars. Where are all the other cars? Where are all the living people in the dead of night, I don’t know.

And this, the anniversary of the burning of the oooooold mill, in which a young woman had died horribly, by fire. And here beside him, a passenger with a strange voice asking him as the woman would ask all doomed innocents that stopped for her to take… her… home.

“Oh you [clears throat], you want to go home?” the man said. “Yeah sure, sure. Umm, where is home?” [growling] “I will give you directionsss,” the stiff dead throat of the figure rasped, and a hand touched his shoulder. He could just see it. Flesh and bone? Maybe. Meat and (symmetry), perhaps. But that does not make a thing human. And he knew from the stories that those who followed the directions of the woman from the mill would find themselves taking narrow, shaded lines, winding downwards  and downwards, to a destination and hollow as the pupil of a dead eye.

“Oh sure, well I’m heading into town myself,” the man said, grasping for any kind of human conversation. “Well maybe I can drop you off somewhere – close to home, like the Moonlite All-Nite Diner or Mission Grove Park?” [growling] “No! Take. Me. Home!”

And before he could stop himself, the man turned and met her eyes, and the man saw, the man saw her face crearly. Stop. Stop right now. I want you all right now to close your eyes. Close your eyes and imagine – trench warfare. Imagine bodies writhing out of holes in the ground to die in muddy no man’s land. Imagine a plane in a thunderstorm where the whole of the universe becomes nothing but lightning and quake.

Imagine closing yourself into your bedroom at night and seeing the shadow imprints of your eyelids after you’ve closed the door. A hunched figure at the end of the hall, flopping around on the floor, in a sheet and muling.

Imagine pulling into your driveway in the dead of night and seeing, you think – but did you? – a grey face with a crude smile peeking from your bedroom window. Imagine being home alone in the middle of a vast nowhere. [click] And the power goes out. And it’s a long, long night until sunrise. Be quiet for just a few moments, and imagine all of this.

Now imagine the face of the woman in the car. Yes. Yes. That is it. Exactly that. [growling] “Tuuuuurn heeeere,” she said, incdicating a dark narrow side road, its pavement cracked and buckling, a side road he had never seen before. [increasingly scary voice] “Tuuuuuurn heeeere, take meee hoooooooooommmmme”. And without knowing why he did it, or where the path would lead, he turned down that side road and left the main road behind.

11. A Public Service Annoucement

The finale of my story coming up. But first, a public service announcement.

After a few recent wildfires, the Night Vale Fire Department would like to remind our listeners about fire safety. They began a new campaign to help parents talk to their kids about this important civic issue. The campaign is called “Your Treachery Has Been Noted”. And the mascot is this adorable cartoon vulture with a camera for a face.

Fire chief Ramona Incarna(-) that it’s important for parents to teach their kids about the three R:s of fire prevention: relent, renounce, repent! She said that  most common house fires and wildfires are started by your kids. And here she pointed straight at you! And then she said, “Those children came from your body!”

And then she retched. Sorry.

As part of the campaign, the Fire Department issued a pamphlet to help parents with the education business. Now this pamphlet is adorned with colorful drawings of pyramids and floating eyes, you know, to make it more relatable to teens. And these pamphlets will be distributed to all Night Vale Public School students via repeating audio loops while they sleep.

12. Pamela Winchell

So, because the ghost stories competition is such an important event in our town, Night Vale’s Mayor has sent her Director of Emergency Press Conferences, Pamela Winchell, here to deliver an emergency press conference. So please welcome Pamela Winchell!

Pamela Winchell: Hello, Cecil! Hello, people of Night Vale! Hello, people or whatever of space, who are receiving this long-ago podcast millions of light years away, millions of years in the future. Hello, mutant hollow-eyed child in the dark corner of the radio studio!

Cecil: Oh my god! What.. But..

PW: He’s cute right?

Cecil: I ha- I have never noticed him before. [long beat] [whispers] Pamela!

PW: [whispers] Yes?

Cecil: [whispers] He’s staring right at me!

PW: [whispers] That’s what he does!

Cecil: [whispers] He’s horrifying! Is he a ghost?

PW: [normal voice] You can tell by his grey complexion and glowing yellow eyes and complete lack of facial expression, he is not a ghost. That, my friend, is one of the undead hollow-eyed messanger children from City Council.

Cecil: How long has he been here?

PW: Probably since the last time City Council issued a press release.

Cecil: But that was like a month ago!

PW: Well you answered your own question there, didn’t ya? Cecil, you are supposed to send the undead messenger children home when you’re done with them. If you don’t, they’ll just hang around in the dark watching you all slack-faced. I mean, kids are innocent but they aren’t very smart!

Cecil: So he won’t like hurt me, right?

PW: [singsong] I never said that!

Cecil: [laughing hysterically] Aahahaa, hahaha, he-hey there little guy! What’s your name?

[music]

PW: Oh, that was my grandfather’s middle name! [chuckles]

Cecil: How do you even spell that?

PW: Oh, B-U-M-P-F-B-U-M-B-F-F-F-G-G-G-W-silent Q. It’s Welsh. Also, my grandfather was a bird. He is no longer with us.

Cecil: Oh, I’m so sorry for you loss.

PW: What? Why?

Cecil: I mean your grandfather passing away and..

PW: It was just a bird. Calm down, Cecil. Anyway, the Mayor sent me to do an emergency press conference about ghosts.

Cecil: Excellent, go right ahead.

PW: Quiet over there, kid, I’m talking. 

People of Night Vale. There is a certain rock in the desert. The rock is cone-shaped, perfectly smooth and inverted, balancing precariously on its point. If you stand in the long shadow of the rock, you can see the entire universe in the midday sky. Stars you have never seen before, every. single. star. Constellation spinning out great and terrible forgings. You will understand that history is a myth, and humanity a fever dream, and you will also hear a very dull hum. Really dull. I got bored like 30 seconds into it. [sighs]

But the rock is really cool, OK? It is stone, white and carved into it is the entire text of Gillian Flynn’s best-selling thriller “Gone Girl”. The words are printed upside down and in Latin. Now, no one in Night Vale knows Latin, the only books on it are in the library and there’s no way any of us is going there. So I’m just assuming that it is “Gone Girl” because while I never have read the book, I’ve definitely seen the movie and it’s awesome. I’m not sure why they called movie “Furious 7” instead of “Gone Girl”, but it was really really good! So I’m just gonna say that’s a Latin translation of “Gone Girl” on the rock and not some ancient curse of rare religious relic.

Cecil: OK, is there a ghost anywhere in this story?

PW: I don’t have to say that there is a ghost in a story for there to be a ghost in a story, Cecil. Like 16 billion people have died since the lizard people first invented humans. Ghosts are everywhere, all the time! I mean, I mentioned a desert, do you need me to say that there is sand there too, or cacti, or shirtless 20-year-olds burning a giant effigy and buying 8-dollar bottles of water from corporate sponsors? Of course those things are there, it’s a desert! [sighs]

Cecil: So I’ve never seen this rock, but I’m actually really interested because I loved that movie too. I actually like the book just a little bit better. I’m actually not sure why they called the book “Ms. Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs”, but it was still really good. So where can I go to get a look at this fascinating rock?

PW: I ate it.

Cecil: What- you what?!

PW: I. Ate. It. It wasn’t good, I mean I liked the movie way better than I liked the stone, the stone is terrible, ugh. I haven’t been able to use the restroom in weeks.

Cecil: Ugh.

PW: Really turned me off ever reading Gillian Flynn. Anyway kid, you wanna go back to City Hall? Alright, cool. I’ll give you a ride, just hop on this horse with me and let’s go.

Cecil: Oh wow, I just now noticed that you were sitting atop a horse.

PW:  Sure am. See you, Cecil! YAAAAOW!

Cecil: Oh, oh..

13. Ghost Story #3

Cecil: The finale of my ghost story. It was ten yeears agoo, on a night just like tonight. The man and his passenger drove through a road that cut through the low branches of the forest. You know, the (dry) of the desert, trees take strange forms. They writhe and loom, their shape a history of their tortured growth.

“Keep going,” the figure rasped. “Yeah I know the way,” the man said, and he did. Because the road, like this story, leads to only one place. A dark and secret place, from which no one ever returns. “Do you know why I was in that mill when it burned?” He did not. “It was because I loved that mill, and I couldn’t let it go alone. Where were you, Cecil? Where were you when that mill burned down?” “I dunno, I was, I was at work,” the man said. “I I I didn’t know it would burn down that day. I mean, I guess a part of me thought that nothing burns down and everything is forever.” “Old mills burn, Cecil. That’s what they do.” “I know I’m just I’m I’m trying to say I’m sorry that I wasn’t there.” “It’s OK. You’re here noow!” And the car reached the end of its road, the asphalt giving way to thick bramble. And the bramble rose and fell, like it was the hair on the back of a huge breathing (animal) and above them, the mill burned. It took up the whole sky. The whole night sky seemed like it was on fire, and the man, hardly able to breathe through this terror, turned and he met the face of the woman and she turned back to him and he saw, he saw the face of the woman clearly, and her face was gone. And in its place was the face that the fire had given her. And her lips opened into what would have been laughter, and she reached for him with what would have been her hand!

[quiet speech] Listeners… I’ve been lying to you. Or not lying, I’m sorry, but what’s the word for when you tell someone a fiction that you would like them believe about you, whatever that is but listen I can’t go on doing that, I need to tell you the truth. And I will. Coming up. The real story, the… the true ghost story that I have been trying to tell you. But first, the weather.

15. Epilogue

This is the true story. It is also a ghost story.

Ten years ago, on a night just like tonight, a man was driving down a dark road, a man who defines himself much of the time as a radio host. But on this night, he was just a driver. And he saw a figure ahead, on the side of the road, a brief pause in a long fog. But he knew exactly who it was, and he took five seconds to collect himself.

And he let her in. Because he know on this very stretch of road, one year to the day before that day that was ten years ago on a night just like tonight, a woman died. Oh, not the woman by the side of the road, she was still alive. Or she IS still alive. The woman who died was an old woman.

And this old woman did not die in a mill fire, there are no old mills in Night Vale, it had just been this woman’s time to go. And this way of passing was mundane. The way that death always is. But still. He mourned the loss of what had been a part of his life.

“Where you headed?” he said. And the woman from the side of the road spoke in a voice that sounded like – a normal voice, like anyone’s voice. “You know where,” it said. “You know where I want to go.” And he did know, because well, she called him and told him where she wanted to go. “I want to go home,” she said. And he looked into her eyes and he saw the familiar face – of his older sister, Abby. She looked tired because she, too, had been thinking about that woman who had died. Because before that old woman had been just a memory. She’d been their mother. The unveiling of the gravestone had been that day and… There were stories to tell. Too many stories, and the weight of them started to seem physical. And now this, her car breaking down on the side of the road?

“The service was nice,” she said. “I think Mom would have…” she said. “Yeah um, yeah. Mom would have,” he said.  

See, my mother disappeared when I was only 14. Abby had just started school, but she had to drop out to return home and raise me, and I thought that Mom would be back at any moment, like maybe she was away on business. Our out for a walk. Or just hiding.

But Mom did not come back, not for my entire childhood. And I was petulant and subversive, and Abby was reserved and controlling and she blamed me for having dropped out of school and I blamed her for just… not being Mom.

But in our adulthood, my mother did return home, sick and sorry to two children who barely spoke to each other in the morning. But we came back together to be with her and Mom… [softly] She looked older than she was. And her face – was gone. And in its place was the face that time had given her. She’s lost many battles to herself. Alcohol, debt, and lack of treatment or even awareness of a mental illness.

See, some creatures have claws, and and and and some have have pincers and and and some have venom, but some creatures have wings. And Mom flew away, when all other defenses failed her. But still, Abby and I started talking to each other, once again, trying to heal ourselves and navigating that dark and narrow path of forgiveness. And then a few months later – Mom left us again. This time for good. And a year after that on a night just like tonight, a man drove his sister home. And she gets out of the car, and and and she goes into her house, and and and he drives away, it’s it’s simple it’s this, then this, then this, then this, then this.

You see, the reality of ghost stories is that they would be comforting, not scary, if they were true like reassuring proof that we go on, after the after. Or a chance to speak with someone that we will never be able to speak with again, but instead we live in a story about us, and about our relationships, and about our families, and the choices of our families going back and back and back. And this story in the same way that a ghost story is scary because it is – unresolved. And filled with symbolism that we just don’t understand.

And family history, after all, is just another kind of ghost story. So ten years ago, on a night just like tonight, when the fog lay heavy on the lowlands, a man drove his sister home. And eleven years on a night just like tonight, their mother died, and it didn’t –mean- anything, but it happened. And the sister stood by and watched it happen and the brother, talked on the radio and didn’t even know that it had happened until afterwards, and there was nothing that they could have done. But still they regretted everything they didn’t do, and when she called to tell him what had happened, they were both silent for ten. full. seconds.

[sighing] [long beat] Thirty years ago, on a night just like tonight I, I tripped on this wire, here at the radio station, and now sometimes I can still feel it. Fifty years ago on a night just like tonight, a baby was born. Oh, no one important to this story, babies are always being born. A hundred years ago there was a war, or not, you know, a hundred years ago exactly but more or less a hundred years ago on a night just like tonight, there was a war. On a night just like tonight 300 years ago, a woman picked up a handful of grass on a sunny day and realized she was not living the life that she wanted to live. She was not sure why she picked up that handful of grass, she was not sure why she did that either. On a night just like tonight 600 years ago, feudalism. [long beat] I think. I’m actually not quite sure when feudalism was.

Oh, a 1,000 years ago on a night just like tonight, a man had the best pear he would ever have. But he didn’t know it at the time, he just thought, “Wow, this is a really good pear. 1,002 years ago on a night nothing like tonight, the same man would have the worst pear he would ever have. Oh, but he knew it at the time, he was like, “Agh, this is a terrible pear!” 3,000 years ago on a night just like tonight, people scraped in the dirt for food or they looked for it in trees or, they reached their hands into water and came out clutching what they found there, which in essence was another day of life, and they took that, wriggling, into their bodies and consumed it. 22,000 years ago on a night just like tonight – trees. That one I’m entirely sure of. There were a lot of trees then. And now but then, more of them now. 103,000 years ago on a night just like tonight, a child felt very bad about something that he had one, but not knowing how to make up for it, he ran away. But then having nowhere else to go, he returned home the next day to a family that had already forgiven him. 100 million years ago on a night just like tonight, there was (-) and stars and accidental beauty that would not be described as beauty for millions of years, and colors that were not colors just yet, just a different type of light.

And millions of years later, a man would drive his sister home because he loved her, and because it was their story to tell, they were living in a ghost story that did not have the comfort of fear, but merely a dull ache and tangle, at the heart of it. And millions of years before that, a volcano erupted and for just one moment, it looked like a fountain of jewels, but no one was around to see it happen. And hundreds of millions of years later, there would be babies born at every moment and everyone would see everything happening and it would always be so loud, but millions upon millions of years ago, before ghost stories, before even stories, it was quiet sometimes, sometimes it was quiet for a long time. Hundreds of millions of years ago it was very, very quiet for a very long time.

[long silence] And then of course, there was small talk. Laughter and love. Love of every kind. And getting to sit next to your sister, watching her daughter, your niece, in her first ever ballet fight. Feeling – lucky to be haunted by the family that you have. Huh. Well. That’s my story submission.

And it looks like I got it in just in time, as the City Council indicates that the ghost story competition is coming to a close, and they will announce their dinner very soon. Win-winner! Winner! They will announce the winner very soon, that’s yeah mm hm, yeah.

Stay tuned next for that uncertain moment of silence between the last word spoken and the first applause. And from a night that is so much like tonight, as to almost be – indistinguishable.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

[applause]

Meg Bashwiner: Welcome to Night Vale is a production of Night Vale Presents. It is written by Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Cranor with original music by Disparition. [applause]

#ghost stories #welcome to night vale #wtnv transcripts #this was a really moving live show #the last part is so beautiful

[kyosplosion]

silhouette design in magical girl raising project

i love some of the character designs in this show, but not all of them, and for various reasons. some characters have great color schemes, and some don’t; some have creative clothing choices, and some don’t; some have design choices that just bother me personally.

this post won’t be addressing any of those - although i may in another post.

this post is specifically targeting the silhouette design.

silhouette is incredibly important in character design - if you can’t recognize a character in silhouette, you’re less likely to recognize them later or from a distance. in anime this doesn’t get addressed often, as many character designs stay relatively close to normal clothing, which tends to not have interesting silhouettes as normal clothing (and hair) usually can’t believably defy gravity and follows what is possible to make via standard clothing manufacturing.

however, in magical girl anime, these boundaries are lifted, as the clothing and hairstyles are created and maintained through magic. magical girls can be held to a higher average, as it is expected that one lets loose in the character design. magical girl raising project is unique in that ‘magical girl’ simply means a girl with magical powers - a girl’s aesthetic doesn’t have to follow the standard magical girl fare of a fluffy skirt, boots, pigtails, etc. the artists went wild with this, more so than a lot of series i’ve seen.

so, without further ado, my opinion on the silhouette design in tandem with the character desig. there will be spoilers, so watch out! my deepest apologies for the image quality; it is frustratingly difficult to find clean versions of the artwork! this is specifically for the anime versions of the designs.

snow white: 3/10

snow white is... rather boring. it’s not terrible - keeping the standard fare makes sense for her character - but the interesting parts of her design aren’t pushed enough. the bud on her head and the flower straps in the back would be interesting if they were larger and more visible from more angles, especially when she stands still. the bows on the back of her boots are the most interesting part when she isn’t moving, and that draws attention away from the more important parts of her design. 

ripple: 8/10

ripple’s ponytail and scarf create an interesting silhouette, even when she’s still, but they look extremely similar - they can get lost in each other in certain poses. the pompoms on her skirt create some interesting movement in her dynamic poses, but look kind of weird in others. the ha on her shoes create a very interesting look from the side; it looks completely different from the high heel image the mg genre is used to. 

swim swim: 9/10

the ‘devil tails’ and bat wings not only create a recognizable silhouette - they even use it in the opening! - but they also immediately indicate that swim swim will be trouble. the ‘tails’ also create a skeleton bell dress shape; it makes her look a bit like an evil queen, which is exactly the role she takes on. the rest of her is very smooth - fitting, as she’s a swimmer. her curly hair creates interesting negative space, too. my only gripe is that i wish the wings were a little bigger, but any bigger and she could fly with them, so i understand.

tama: 6/10

not a fan of the leash; it looks like a tail, but not only does the long, thin tail not work with the fluffy rest of her design, it takes attention away from the fact that she already has a tail. aside from that, the batwing cape creates interesting negative space in her dynamic pose, and the large paws stand out amongst the cast of characters with tiny hands. the floppy ears are very visible, and from multiple angles. 

cranberry: 1/10

the only interesting thing about cranberry’s silhouette, unfortunately, is the leaves on her shoes - the rest is streamlined and nothing sticks out. the mullet skirt isn’t apparent unless she’s moving - it otherwise looks like a normal skirt. her upturned jacket collar doesn’t create any negative space like it does in her chibi art, her flower crown isn’t very visible... overall rather weak.

the peaky angels: 5/10

the twins are interesting in that they essentially have two silhouettes - when they’re together, and when they’re separate. 

separately, the one-sided wing is an unexpected shape, and the speech balloon halo becomes a very distinguishable shape, too. the rest of their form is unfortunately indistinguishable - the bell-shaped dress makes them look like an egg. their hairstyles aren’t that different, either, and one of them just looks like she’s got a perfectly round head.

together, their silhouette forms a whole angel, which indicates that they’re only whole when together - fitting, because after yunael dies, minael goes ‘one winged-angel’ in personality. definitely an interesting take on the ‘tiny angel’ look.

hardgore alice: 3/10

while i love hardcore alice’s character and color palette, her silhouette is rather uninteresting. her wide, wavy hair takes up the entirety of her upper body, the ends are indistinguishable from her dress’s hem, and her hairpiece is flush with her head, so it’s invisible in silhouette. the rabbit plush she carries around can add something nice, but it’s rarely visible because of the dress’s length. the bloomers’ ruffles look good, though, and the apron adds some appeal in more dynamic poses. the long, wavy hair makes her, at first glance, look like a little girl, which suits the character, but i wish it wasn’t her only feature.

sister nana: 2/10

nana’s overlapping elements don’t really work. the nun’s habit's scalloped edge or her hair’s drill ends would have looked fine on their own, but together they look like one big, uninteresting mass. her hair also blocks out the interesting appeal on her torso - the (pillows?) on her hips would have an interesting shape if they were visible. the ends of her hair, however, sync up nicely with the way the end of her dress is drawn with the bunching. you really can’t tell she’s a nun at all -particularly with the slit dress - unless you see her in color.

top speed: 9/10

immediately you can tell top speed is a witch. the hat gives it away, and the cape sells it. the crooked tip is visually interesting, but doesn’t point in a direction that looks out of place. the braids are always visible, and look fantastic when in motion. the cape unfortunately blocks out most of her body, especially her skirt and collar, which have interesting shapes, but it follows the same line as the braids, which looks good, and fits the whole ‘halloween witch’ theme. 

calamity mary: 7/10

holy howdy, those spurs have a great shape, as do her long fringe sleeves. the fringes create good negative space, especially when moving and the individual strings fan out. her boots and gun holster make her legs together look more interesting than one or neither. her hair kind of detracts from her shape -long hair often does - and i wish her hat had a wider brim so you could tell what it is, but it does have a different tangent than her head, so it’s visible even in sihouette.

weiss winterprison: 4/10

she... mostly looks like a block when standing still. the asymmetry of the belt and the scarf looks good, and the crossbody belt creates a small shape on the right, but everything else lies flat - the scarf on her neck, the belts in the front, even her hair is smooth and flat. in motion, though - the loose straps and the scarf fan out to create excellent negative space. while this isn’t always good practice, it works to a degree with winterprison, better than it does with sister nana, because winterprison tends to melt into the background unless she’s in a fight.

magicaloid44: 10/10

definitely one of the greatest silhouettes in the show. her very short height immediately stands out in the cast of similarly-statured characters. the four ‘ponytails’ create a very distinguishable shape, especially in a 3/4 view. the triangular jetpack wings work with this, skinnier and longer but pointing i the same direction. while the gauntlets and her skirt merge together, the gauntlets’ top is still easily distinguishable from her arms and the rest of her body. the sharp, perfect angles lend themselves well to making magicaloid44 have a different feel from the rest of the characters - fitting, since she’s a robot.

la pucelle: 8/10

with one glance, you can tell she’s wearing a ton of armor. the jagged shapes around her arms and legs couldn’t really be anything else. the jagged tail and horns, too, make you think of little else than a dragon. the dragon knight aesthetic is instantly visible, especially when paired with the huge sword. her hair creates negative space, more so than most of the other characters. some of the armor shapes could be bigger and more imposing, though.

ruler: 8/10

whatever those things on her head are, they’re the strongest part of her silhouette. they stick off her head very visibly, and the ribbons create good negative space. her upturned collar is visible in most angles, and looks very regal. the cape blocks out more detail than top speed’s does, but it works here as well. it just skims the ground; it’s clearly been tapered and exactly measured, and she looks like a ruling authority. she gets a lower score than top speed, though, as the rest of her outfit has a better silhouette than the cape, and you can never see it.

nemurin: 11/10

the best silhouette in the show. there’s so much appeal in this design - the pigtails that drag and gather lazily on the ground, the clouds dripping off her hair, the gathering of the nightgown, especially in the sleeves, the bunched up socks... everything about the silhouette creates fantastic visual space. the pillow’s ruffles connect it visually to the socks and the clouds, which all have the scalloped shape. even without the pastel colors, the shapes and her posing always give off a sweet, lazy girl vibe. i’m pissed that they killed off such a well-designed character so soon.

#magical girl raising project #mahou shoujo ikusei keikaku #magipro #mahoiku #silhouette analysis #character design #design analysis

[missmungoe]

PRE-timeskip: Ace briefly meets Sabo, they don't recognise each other even though they both get this super uncomfortable feeling that they should've.

The tavern was filled to bursting – a good thing, Sabo thought, given the factthat he wanted to blend in as much as possible.

Thefake beard itched, and the sunglasses sat awkwardly on his nose. Koala hadtold him he looked ridiculous, but it was all he’d had at hand, and it waseither the ugly, fake beard, or stay behind at the safe house. And he’d beencooped up there two days already – and he’d told her as much when she’d pursedher mouth and put her hands on her hips, but she’d relented after she’d pinchedhis ear and made him promise not to get caught.

He wasn’t going to get caught. So it wasn’t thebest disguise, but it wasn’t like anyone was paying him enough attentionto notice.

“Oi.What’s with the getup?”

…damn it.

Stealinga furtive glance towards the person seated at the bar next to him, Sabo wassurprised to find him engrossed in his meal. His own plate was empty, finishedsome time ago and forgotten in favour of keeping an eye on the room; but thepeople he was keeping an eye out for were nowhere to be seen.

Andso, “I could ask you the same,” Sabo said, taking in the wide-brimmed hat andthe fake nose attached to the stranger’s own, too-large sunglasses.

Hereceived a smirk for that, and his next words were offered around a mouthful,“I’m laying low.”

Sabonodded, and didn’t know why he said it – Koala would have smacked him for beingso careless. “That makes two of us.”

Thestranger made a noise of understanding. “Marines?”

“Amongothers.” And there was Koala’s voice in his head, yelling about compromisinghimself – and her. But something about the stranger dragged the words outbefore he could stop himself. “You?”

Abrief pause followed, wherein he flicked his gaze to Sabo, the slightinclination of his head so brief he almost didn’t catch it. And he knew he wasbeing assessed, and wondered for a moment if he’d made a mess of things, whenthe stranger said, “I’m looking for someone.”

Itwas vague enough to skirt more than one category – undercover marine, maybeeven a bounty hunter – but it was also more than he could have offered, and forsome reason Sabo felt his shoulders relax a bit at the implication.

Heconsidered him then – the bawdy floral shirt, and the freckled forearms. Thesun wasn’t doing him any favours, but he didn’t seem to be bothered by thefact.

“Nice tattoo,” he said, noticing the letters, butpausing on the crossed-out S. “Did you fallasleep or something? Give the artist the wrong letters?”

Acurious smile – the corner of his mouth lifting, a half-fond, half-deprecatingthing of terrible feeling, and for a moment Sabo felt like an intruder on somefiercely private ground, but–

“It’sa homage,” he said simply, and left it at that.

Sabodidn’t pry any further, recognising that there was a story there, but also thathe wasn’t likely to share it with a stranger – and one in a pretty obviousdisguise. Although something about that crossed-out letter kept drawing hisgaze back, as though he’d seen the symbol somewhere before, but when hesearched his memory he came up short.

“Sothis person you’re looking for,” Sabo said then, fixing his gaze instead on therow of wanted posters stapled to the wall behind the bar. He didn’t likedwelling on that gap in his memory; it always left a restless itch under hisskin. “I take it they don’t want to be found? Seeing as you’re in disguise.”

Theslight tightening of his grip around the fork in his hand told him enough, but,“Something like that,” the stranger said. Then, lifting his eyes from theplate, although Sabo couldn’t see them behind the tinted glasses, “Speaking ofdisguises – if you’re undercover you’re doing a pretty shit job.”

Sabogrinned. “Speak for yourself. That nose doesn’t have enough freckles to be remotely convincing.”

Thestranger raised his fork towards him, pointing. “Fake nose still trumps a fakebeard. And your glasses look ridiculous.”

“Atleast they’re in fashion.”

“Inthe void century, maybe. Should have been lost with the rest of it.”

“Theguy with hibiscus flowers on his shirt is giving fashion advice now?”

“Hey– I like hibiscus flowers.”

“Yeah, well that pattern doesn’t like you.”

Thestranger was grinning now, too. “If I was a marine I’d cuff you for that.”

“Agood thing you’re not, then.” He was sure of that now. A pirate, most likely –or a bounty hunter, but he’d make a good bet on the first, from the look ofhim.

Heshrugged. “I could have been,” he said then.

“Yeah?”Sabo laughed. “I doubt they’d let you wear that shirt.”

Asnort greeted that remark, and he had the sudden feeling of not being privy tosome joke when his companion drawled, “You’d be surprised.”

Saboonly shook his head, but resisted the urge to rub at his neck. The mention ofattire had made him acutely aware of his own, and he felt strangely exposedwithout the cravat. But Koala had insisted – had said that the rest of hisdisguise needed all the help it could get, and had confiscated it, along withhis hat and goggles for good measure.

Herealised belatedly that he’d let his guard down – and pretty thoroughly atthat, when what he’d initially set out to do was some covert reconnaissance,which didn’t include talking to people, or making a spectacle of himself, bothof which he’d managed to do in less than twenty minutes. Koala was going tohave a field day when he reported back.

Butthe stranger was still eating, seeming entirely unperturbed, and if he foundanything at all amiss with Sabo his behaviour didn’t let on. Of course, hemight just be a good actor, but for some reason Sabo was more inclined tobelieve that he just wasn’t bothered. Or that it was a kindred thing – therecognition often found on this sea, between one lawbreaker and another.

“Youknow,” the stranger said then, a curious note slipping into his voice. “I can’tput my finger on what it is, but there’s something familiar about you.”

Behindthe beard, Sabo smiled. “Maybe you’re mistaking me for someone else with a fakebeard and glasses.”

Hemade a contemplative noise. “Could be.”

Saboshrugged, considering his empty plate. “Or maybe we’ve crossed paths before.This sea isn’t that big.”

“Yeah,but I’ve only been here a few years,” the stranger said. “I’m from East Blue.Or, I grew up there, anyway.”

Atthe mention, Sabo resisted the urge to fiddle with his fork. “I hear it’s nicethere.”

“Youfrom one of the Blues?”

The fork making a restless clink clink againstthe plate alerted him to the fact that he’d picked it up, and so he put itdown, and curled his fingers towards his palm to choke that odd restlessnessthat had sprung up in the wake of the mention of East Blue. And he didn’t knowwhy he felt so weird about it – or why he was sharing this with someone he’djust met, but, “I don’t know where I’m from,” Sabo said at length. “I don’tremember.”

Lookingover at his companion, Sabo had the impression that he was sympathetic – to thepoint where his personality allowed it, anyhow.

“Damn,”the stranger said, and for all that it wasn’t the usual response he gotwhenever he spoke about his amnesia, there was a rough sort of earnestness inthat word. “Tough luck.”

Somehow,the blunt response made him smile. “Yeah.” He shrugged. “I’m hoping it wasn’tall worth remembering. That I’m better off like this.”

“Youreally believe that?”

There was a moment where he was prepared tosay yes – the part that had fought so hard to get towhere he was, and to who he was,regardless of who he had been.

But,“No,” Sabo said, after a lull. “I think there are always some good things toremember, no matter where you come from.”

Hiscompanion made a noncommittal noise at that, but Sabo had the sudden sense thathe’d struck some sort of cord, and resisted the urge to ask. He’d already sharedmore than was strictly advisable for anyone on this sea with something to hide,but when he looked for the regret he expected he found nothing – just an oddsurety that, whoever he was, the man beside him didn’t seem liable to doanything with the information he’d let slip.

Andanyway, between the two of them, Sabo was the one sitting with the mostinformation. East Blue. A pretty recognisable tattoo. And he had to realisethat, but all he did was eat his food, still entirely at ease, despite the fakenose and sunglasses that were clearly meant to hide his identity.

Heput down his fork then, pushing his plate away with a sigh that spoke of thecontentment that followed a particularly good meal.

Then,rolling his shoulders, as though in preparation for a stretch – “You ready?”

Saboblinked, and for a moment he had no idea what he was referring to, but at thesight of the grin stretching under that ridiculous nose, and the two emptyplates sitting on the counter before them, it clicked.

“Youthinking what I’m thinking?” Sabo asked, tossing a casual glance towards theexit – then back to the barkeep, polishing a glass behind the counter. A bigguy, and the amount of wanted posters stapled to the wall behind him suggesteda part-time job that brought in more cash than tips. And if Koala had been withhim she would have shot down the suggestion before he could make it – wouldhave told him in no uncertain terms that it was the furthest thing from beingcovert, and that if he wasn’t careful he’d get himself into trouble with morethan just a bounty-hungry barkeep.

Butthe stranger’s grin made him, inexplicably, think that it was going to be fine.And he didn’t know where that surety came from, or why he didn’t feel likequestioning it, but the jittery excitement he felt now had chased away hisearlier restlessness, and hadn’t left room for regret, either.

“I’mthinking,” his companion said then, the words quietly musing, “that I’m notgoing to find who I’m looking for sitting here all day. And whatever the hellyou’re supposed to be doing, you haven’t been doing it for the past tenminutes.” Then, dropping his voice, “And since they’ve seen us talking, if Ibolt now without telling you they’ll probably make you pay for both ourmeals.”

Sabogrinned. “So this is you showing goodwill? That’s a risk, given that I could bea marine in disguise.”

Hesnorted. “With that beard? You’d be demoted just for thinking you couldactually pull that off.”

“Hey, this is a nice beard.”

“Please.It’s giving me fleas just looking at it. And it’s not even your colouring –you’re blond.”

“Areyou going to keep giving me flack about the beard or are we doing this?”

A flash of teeth – a smile that lookedsuddenly, strikingly familiar, like he’dseen it somewhere before, but before Sabo could even consider the thought fullythe stranger had slipped from his chair, making for the door, and before histhoughts could catch up with the rest of him he was following suit.

Thebarkeep was shouting after them before they’d made it across the room, but thetwo who rose from their chairs to block the exit were taken down withoutpausing, a near-synchronised ease to the joint effort that came withoutthinking. He had the sudden thought that he knew what his companion would do – acurious sense of premonition that sparked, a second before he’d tripped thefirst of their opponents, and before he could think Sabo had grabbed onto theback of the man’s shirt and shoved him into the second.

Thenthey were out the door, laughter trailing in their wake and the barkeep ontheir heels.

And – there was something; aninkling of familiarity, sprinting down the maze of side-streets, laughterpushing up his throat and his fake beard askew. And they could have gone theirseparate ways from the get-go, but for some reason Sabo found himselffollowing, his body acting seemingly of its own volition, until they both cameto a stop, several streets over in a dirty alley shoved between two brickbuildings.

“Hey,”Sabo said then, when he’d caught his breath. Resting his hands on his knees, hedragged air into his lungs, but his grin felt like it couldn’t be stifled, andfor some reason his heart sat feather-light in his chest. “Thanks.”

Thestranger inclined his head. The fake nose was coming loose from his sunglasses,and the cord hanging from his hat had gotten tangled in the beads around hisneck. “For what?”

Saboshrugged. “I honestly don’t know. Just felt like saying it.”

Thestranger was quiet for a moment. Then, “You’re a bit of a weirdo, aren’t you?”

Sabolaughed. “This coming from the guy with the crossed-out tattoo and orangecowboy hat.”

“Ifanyone’s in need of a hat here it’s you. Cover up that dandelion head.”

Therewas a remark on his tongue – that he did in fact like hats, but before he couldspeak the words the baby Den Den Mushi in his pocket gave a loud chirrup, andhe winced, remembering suddenly what he’d been doing – and what he was supposedto be doing.

Pullingit out, Sabo was about to speak when the line crackled, and Koala’s voice camethrough–

“–bo-kun,” the snailsaid, his name cut in half, the syllables mangled with static, but thedisapproval in her voice was perfectly discernible. “What do you think you’redoing?”

“Er– saving you the trouble of paying for my meal? I left my wallet in my coat.”

“You know you’re up for a promotion,right? This kind of behaviour isn’t doing you any favours!”

Hewas keenly aware of the stranger listening to the conversation now, and despitehis earlier ease, he felt the sudden necessity of keeping certain things underwraps.

“I’llbe back in a few minutes, okay? Just sit tight.”

Her sigh fell, a long-suffering thing, but he heardher yielding even before she said, “If you get back here in tenminutes without causing any more trouble I won’t mention it in the report.”

“Iowe you one.”

“You owe me at least fifteen and youknow it.”

“Thenthis makes it sixteen.”

“That’s nine minutes.”

“Okay,okay – I’m on my way,” he laughed, as the Den Den Mushi went quiet in his palm,and he tucked it back in his pocket.

Whenhe looked up, the stranger was smiling. “Promotion, huh? Not a pirate, then.”

“No,” Sabo agreed, with that curious certaintyagain, that he could. “You are, though.”

He shrugged, but didn’t deny it. “You’re not amarine, either,” he said. “But promotion suggestsan organisation.”

“Youdon’t know. Maybe I work in a really boring office.”

“Can’tbe that boring if they send you out to do reconnaissance. Even if it’s in anshitty disguise.”

Sabogrinned. “It’s worked pretty well so far. You don’t know who I really am.”

“Yousay that like you’re famous.”

“Icould be.”

“Socould I.”

Theywere both grinning now, and Sabo took a moment to consider the scene. And hedid wonder then, just who he was talking to – if their paths had in factcrossed before, or if he’d seen his face on a wanted poster somewhere.

“Inever asked your name,” the stranger said then, still grinning.

“Neitherdid I,” Sabo countered.

“You’regoing to give me a fake one if I do, aren’t you?”

Sabolaughed. “Probably.” Then, although he already suspected what the answer wouldbe, “And if I asked you for yours?”

“You’dget one faker than my freckle-free nose.”

“Gladwe’re on the same page.”

Thestranger held out his hand then, the gesture clear, and for a moment Sabo onlywatched the offering, before reaching out to take it. And his hand was warm –enough so that he felt it through his glove, and for a moment that curiousdetail held his attention, before he let it go, along with the hand.

“Ihope you find who you’re looking for,” Sabo said, eyes glancing off the logpose on his wrist. If he was a pirate he probably wasn’t the captain. Thenavigator, maybe, but he wouldn’t be alone if that was the case – unless hejust knew how to navigate, but didn’t hold the post.

“Yeah,”the stranger said, a dark note sitting in the word, and an ambiguity that toldSabo enough about what kind of person he was searching for. It was personal –and fiercely so.

Butthen, his mouth lifting with one of those strange smiles, “I’m actuallythinking I might take a break for a bit. There’s been a lot of dead ends, andtoday made me remember something.” He didn’t elaborate on what he meant bythat, but the smile softened a bit, and, “I’ve actually got someone that I’mwaiting for. He should be turning up any day now.”

Sabotilted his head. “Popular guy, are you?”

“Youmean you can’t tell just by looking at me?”

“Seeingas your ensemble makes you look like you robbed a thrift shop, not really.”

“Who would rob a thriftshop?”

“Youtell me,” Sabo laughed. “You’re the one who suggested a dine-and-dash from thecheapest tavern in this place.”

Anotherof those strange smiles flitted over the stranger’s face at that. “Maybe I wasfeeling nostalgic.”

Sabowas suddenly tempted to agree, although he had no idea where that feeling camefrom. The same place as that curious surety that kept making him let his guarddown, maybe.

“So,this person you’re waiting for,” he said then. “Enemy or friend this time?”

Thatprompted a grin, but it wasn’t an ambiguous thing now, Sabo saw. This one wasstaggeringly sincere. “Little brother.”

“Yeah? Ihope for his sake he dresses better than you do.”

“Don’tcount on it.”

“Runsin the family, huh?”

Anotherstrange smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “Something like that.”

“Youhave a lot of siblings?”

Herealised the moment the question was off his tongue just how intrusive itsounded. And he hadn’t even thought twice before speaking it.

Thestranger fell quiet, and there was a second where Sabo wondered if he’d thoroughlyoverstepped.

Then, “Two,”he said, after lull that had stretched just a little too long for the ease thathad preceded all his earlier responses.

Sabotried not to wince. “Sorry. I don’t have siblings, so I was curious.” At least –he didn’t think he did. “Must be nice.”

Thesmile that followed wasn’t asking for an apology, Sabo was surprised to see.And, “Depends on the siblings, I think,” the stranger said, still grinning. “It’smostly troublesome.”

Sabofelt his own smile curve, without really knowing why. “You don’t sound very upset about that.”

The grin was still in place, and, “Nah,” he said. Then with a shrug, “Worrying comes with the big brother gig. But he can take care of himself. For the most part.”

“And the other one?”

Another laden pause, and Sabo had the distinct feeling that he was trespassing again. But then the stranger said, around a grin that looked like the manifestation of a weight lifting off his shoulders, “You want to talk fashionably challenged?”

“Looking at you I’m not sure I should take your word for it.”

He laughed. “Yeah, he’d probably say the same thing.”

“Your family sounds…eccentric.”

That earned him a snort. “You don’t know half of it.”

Sabowas about to respond when there was a commotion at the mouth of the alley, andthen a voice, cleaving through the air down the narrow street–

“That’sthem! The ones with the godawful disguises!”

“Godawful?”the stranger muttered.

“Yeah,”Sabo agreed. “Rude.”

“Anyway,that’s my cue,” the stranger said. Then to Sabo, “I hope you get thatpromotion. Maybe they’ll give you a decent beard with your new pay-check.”

Sabolaughed, as they took off running. “I’ll put in a request!”

Theysprinted down the length of the alley, the barkeep and a small group of navywranglers at their heels, before they cleared the mouth, the cramped shadowsgiving way to brilliant sunlight and a wide promenade curving along the shore.And without another word they took off in separate directions, parting wayswith the same ease that they’d first struck up conversation, their entireacquaintance having lasted less than an hour, for all that it felt like it’dbeen much longer.

Heprobably should feel some concern that he’d given away more than he shouldhave, and to someone who might well put the pieces together if given the right information, but his heart felt too light for remorse. And he couldn’t explainthat feeling – the one that felt like trust but that had to be something else,because trust wasn’t a commodity on the high seas, especially in his line ofbusiness.

Buteven if he couldn’t explain it – or the laughter that still threatened at the bottom of his gut, Sabolet it fill his chest to bursting, and the whole street.

Ittook him fifteen minutes to shake off his pursuers, but he was still grinningwhen he returned to the safe house. And something about his good humour musthave made Koala feel inclined to overlook his dawdling, because therewas no mention of his dine-and-dash in the final mission report.

But,“That’s the last time I let you pick your own disguise,” she said, tugging atthe ratty beard, and considering it like she might a dirty dish rag.

Unfasteningit, Sabo stuck his tongue out. “I think it worked fine. No one recognisedme.”

Thelook she gave him was entirely dubious, but then the corner of her mouthquirked, her expression bleeding from suspicion to a lighter kind ofbemusement. “Why are you smiling like that?”

Sabofelt his grin stretch wider. “I have no idea.”

Her sigh held a laugh. “You’re so weird sometimes, Sabo-kun.”

Helaughed, turning the beard over in his hands. It really was an ugly old thing.“Yeah,” he agreed, but the stupid grin stayed, despite his best efforts.

“SoI’ve been told.”

.

.

It will take years before he finally makes theconnection – that sunny day with the beard that itched, and sprinting down thestreet with his belly full of food and laughter. It’s years before that strangetrust finally makes sense, but it’s notsadness that greets him when it does, and it’s not loss that he feels,remembering the stranger who hadn’t been a stranger at all.

Andwhen he meets his little brother at Dressrosa and finds him wearing a disguise so ridiculous he doesn’t know which is worse, the fake beard or the gladiator helmet, Sabo laughs so hard he thinksit must carry – hopes it does, to wherever their brother is; to whatever quiet watersawait them all in the beyond.

Ormaybe it’s not a sea at all, but three cups and two empty seats at a bar – the third alreadyfilled, and a grin that sits with ease now on a freckled face he’d recognise anywhere, long years and death and truly terrible disguises be damned.

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