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canmom · 1 year

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Comics Comints: Witch Hat Atelier

Welcome back to Comics Comints, the series where I comint on comics.

First up! Comics Comints now has a proper archive. Enjoy larger images, alt text, and tags for navigation.

Tonight, it’s time we did a manga! If you recall that post about paneling and time from a couple of weeks ago, you know it’s one I liked rather a lot...

Witch Hat Atelier (とんがり帽子のアトリエ Tongari Bōshi no Atorie)

(writing and art: Kamome Shirahama (白浜鴎), trans. Rasmus-kun, #dropout and Project Vinland scanlation groups. I’m going to be using the name romanisations decided on by #dropout since they’re generally a lot better than the official ones lmao)

Ahh, Witch Hat Atelier. A truly wonderful comic, such that it’s tough to know where to begin.

Sometimes I compare it to getting my hands on a whole new Berserk, because Shirahama’s drawings have that same sense of being exquisite: gorgeously flowing cloth and hair and perfectly placed hatching, overwhelming confidence and attention to detail, an old-school romantic fantasy world you could really fall into. (Also I think she draws faces kinda like Miura does.)

Witch Hat Atelier begins with a girl called Coco living in a fantasy world in which the population is divided into humans and witches. Not unlike a certain Akko, she idealises magic. But she ends up performing magic by accident, unleashing a spell that turns her mother to stone. After this, the kindly Professor Quifrey, who definitely harbours no ulterior motive, breaks the taboo and lets her into the secret: anyone could do magic with the right tools (a pen and special ink), and the witches are maintaining an elaborate masquerade for the sake of containing terrible magical superweapons.

Or at least, the dominant Pointed Hat Witches are. Their enemies, a conspiracy known as the Brimhats, want to break these artificial shackles... and for reasons we don’t yet know, they see this novice witch Coco as their key.

Anyway, the thing that got me to read Witch Hat Atelier was this video...

youtube

...by manga youtuber Lines in Motion, which analyses Shirahama’s inventive panelling. It’s really nicely edited and a great primer on the principles of comic composition.

Anyway, per that video, Shirahama took inspiration from not just other manga, but old school European illustration like John Tenniel and Arthur Rackham - and good old Moebius of course. Unfortunately, this video doesn’t provide its sources, and I struggle to find some kind of interview where I can get the artist’s own words. Still, looking at her style, she’s not shy about gesturing to Art Nouveau, or the general tradition of European etching.

And when Shirahama uses colour - sadly only occasionally, though I can understand why! - she deploys beautiful watercolours that call to mind the same tradition (and perhaps certain recent manga like The Girl From The Other Side).

So, before we dive into talking about the comic itself, let me see what I can dig up about Kamome Shirahama herself and her inspirations. She studied art in Japan, at Tokyo University of the Arts, and starting publishing comics in the seinen magazine Fellows! in 2011; this led to a bizarre lucky break when her art was noticed at Comic-Con by someone at Marvel, which gave her a foothold into the Western comics industry, starting with this character Doctor Strange in 2015 (source):

Even seven years ago, you can see Shirahama could really fucking draw. This apparently continued with various other covers for DC and Marvel; meanwhile, having finished her two-year project Eniale & Dewiela (エニデヴィ, Enidevi) about an angel and devil brought together by a mutual enthusiasm for fashion, she embarked on Witch Hat Atelier in 2016 which continues to the present, with 64 issues available at the time of writing.

All this results in perhaps a perfectly optimised Art Build: both her parents are artists, she went to art school, she’s got a familiarity with both Japanese and Western illustration styles to fuel her. And that’s also perfect material for Witch Hat Atelier, which is about - among many other things - the struggles of learning art.

That word Atelier is interesting to me. In Japanese, it seems like アトリエ atorie is not an entirely uncommon word for an artist’s workshop even in the present. In English, its scope is generally much narrower: it refers to a particular tradition of art schools that began in the middle ages and lasted roughly until photography, whose primary function was to teach students how to draw in perspective using a variety of mechanical means like wire grids or sight-size techniques.

(a painting by Jefferson Chalfant of an atelier from the late 1800s - source Wikimedia Commons. I’m vaguely amused by the thought of this guy Chalfant showing up to the atelier and flexing on the students by painting not just the model but also all the other students, the room behind them, and thumbnails of all their paintings.)

Nowadays you’re most likely to hear the word ‘atelier’ in the context of the Atelier series of games, in which you play as a young witch and your atelier is essentially an alchemist’s workshop where you brew potions. I don’t have enough data to say how far the association between ateliers and magic goes - I’ve seen at least one more instance (Maria Umineko uses the word) - but in any case...

‘Magic systems’ in fantasy fiction are tricky things. Without some care, they can just be colour that carries very little thematic weight. Fortunately this is very much not true of Witch Hat Atelier. The basic premise of its system is that magic is created by drawing precise circles with certain symbolic elements whose size relationships combine to specify the magic effect. It’s explained in some detail, although there’s enough vague that Shirahama can have some real fun with the imagery.

The important part, though, is that while it’s not exactly the same as representative illustration, it’s close enough to it to be analogous. In Quifrey’s atelier, Coco meets a group of young students who each have their own styles of magic. Riché, for example, was treated cruelly by an arrogant teacher who insisted on orthodoxy, and now stubbornly insists on practicing only her own specific magical techniques; an important turning point sees her learn how to lean on other people without sacrificing her personal style. Coco has some skills she can lean on as a tailor’s daughter, but still has to drill fundamentals like learning to draw in a single smooth confident stroke.

It’s not quite as ‘trials of an artist’ as something like Blue Period (no spoilers, I’ve only read a bit of that), but it is a deeply compelling element of the mix...

However, magic is only somewhat like illustration. It’s also useful. And this leads to a fascinating subtheme around disability. One of the rules the Pointed Hat witches operate under is that they can’t use magic on the human body. So when a boy Coustas’s legs are injured by haywire magic, witches can give him an adorable deer legs wheelchair...

...but he faces many of the same obstacles as a real wheelchair user in a world not built for access. Coco and her friend Tartar try to figure out a method to help him without breaking the rules, eventually coming on the solution of creating a flying cloak as a new accessibility device, seemingly to everyone’s satisfaction... but then (spoilers) Coustas runs into a Brimhat who’s like “actually we have no compunctions doing a transhumanism on you” and give him legs back (if weirder), turning him against the MCs. But that same power is one we just recently saw used to forcibly transform people against their will. It’s an interesting mirror of the common ‘disability in sci-fi’ question; Coustas’s struggle is not merely that he is disabled, but that the world does not accomodate him and this completely strips him of independence, despite very little ill will from anyone.

And to her credit, Shirahama doesn’t seem to be trying to be going for a didactic angle on this (Coustas should or shoudn’t want...), but treats it as a worthwhile and interesting conflict, and I’m genuinely excited to see how it will resolve. Nor is Coustas the only user of a ‘sealchair’ - one of the main leaders of the witches uses one due to some kind of unspecified fatigue condition, even transforming it in battle, something which largely passes without comment since that’s not really the main focus of the character.

Anyway, despite their separate social system, the witches in Witch Hat Atelier have to make a living, which they do primarily by selling magic items to the non-magical population - subject to various safety regulations which are pretty strict and have a curious attitude towards deception in keeping with the Pointed Hat witches’ MO (don’t make a heatless flame or children might get the wrong idea!). So despite the wonder conveyed so effectively in Shirahama’s vistas of floating islands and twisting paths and underwater cities, it’s a magic that’s very grounded, shaped by the needs of a feudal society. She’s incredibly good at tying in these kinds of ~worldbuilding~ tidbit to the evolving character arcs, so the setting as a whole feels warm and lived-in but also shot through with genuine intractable tensions.

(I tend to show the more elaborate compositions with borders and splash panels, but even the more standard rectangular-panel pages have a real elegance to them)

One of these tensions is that between adults and children. There are many terrible teachers in the pages of Witch Hat Atelier - ones who berate their charges and shatter their self-confidence, or even in one chapter we witness a teacher who will not defend her student who is sexually assaulted by a nobleman and fights back (the only time the subject is brought up in the comic, and handled with care). Even for Quifrey, the picture of a benevolent instructor or good dad lmao, we have the lurking question of whether he intends to use Coco as an opportunity to pursue revenge against the Brimhats.

The children are surrounded by a world that doesn’t seem to work the way it should, rules that don’t seem to make sense but they have to follow, in a way that feels very genuine. And they have reason to fear: the standard punishment of the Pointed Hat witches is to wipe someone’s entire memories of magic and start them in a new life as a civilian. The fear of an extreme, draconian punishment leads the kids to end up keeping their own secrets.

But the adults are far from all bad. If, perhaps, the good relationships are a tragedy waiting to happen...

Then there are the witches and the secular authorities - monarchs of various kingdoms who are itching to get their hands on the secrets of magic. As the cast expands - and believe me it expands a lot - we start getting more and more points of view, and Shirahama is very deft at sketching a character’s motivation and vibe in just a few pages.

When it comes to comics about students at a school for magic, inevitably comparisons will be drawn to the elephant in the room, A Wizard of Earths- what’s that? - oh, yeah, that one.

So, yeah, according to Wikipedia, Shirahama took inspiration from both Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings. Frankly I think she writes wrings around both of them, but then she’s writing a much more modern style of fantasy for an audience literate in the genre, with modern concerns, so perhaps it’s not a surprise I’d like it more than Tolkien. (Rowling is a thoroughly mean-spirited fascist who represents the worst of this country, and if I were to go through the comparison, it would just be a list of things that I think Shirahama does a whole lot better, so I won’t do that.)

What is a little interesting is seeing how, after Potter’s international proliferation, some of the imagery of the robe and wizard hat and school for magic starts to grow into a standard setting in Japanese fiction. Obviously Trigger’s Little Witch Academia is the big one - and I’m fond of it, but it shares little with it beyond the main character’s enchantment (ha) with the idea of magic. NieR Reincarnation is much less likely to ping on anyone’s radar, being a fairly obscure mobile gacha game, but it also took a magic school as the setting for some of its brief tragedies. No idea if that’s going to continue, or if it’s just a passing thing, but brain see pattern...

Anyway, it wouldn’t be Comics Comints without a detailed art breakdown, would it? There’s so much going on in Shirahama’s pages that it will be hard to capture everything, nor is this series really supposed to be comprehensive. Since I’ve talked a bunch about paneling already, let’s take a closer look at the characters...

Let’s start with kids, since most of the characters are kids. Here’s a handful of panels from chapter 42, page 13, trans. #Dropout (the work done primarily by Hypomanix and Botanyrobot in this issue). I think it’s a decently neutral example of a drawing of Coco.

There’s a lot that goes into a drawing of a face, to make it look delicate. But to my mind (c.f. the human head, a series I still intend to finish) the key elements are...

the profile of the face - this shape determines a lot

the size, shape, and style of the eyes

the balance of features

the way you draw hair

I said previously that Shirahama’s style reminded me of Kentaro Miura’s, but that’s mostly when she’s drawing kids. Shirahama’s designs are definitely within the broader ‘anime’ milieu, but there’s an old-school quality. Let’s break it down...

face profile - very rounded shapes. ubiquitous ‘cheek bump’ (pink), which helps the characters appear young.

as a standard ‘anime mannequin’ head, the overall aspect ratio is quite square, the neck is thin and relatively central, and the eyeline stays low.

eyes - this is where Shirahama puts most of the visual information (density of lines), with multiple rings of hatched shadows and highlights. In the picture above I’ve outlined the main shapes that go into drawing Coco’s eyes. Some of them can be identified as anatomical features, others highlights and shadows indicating form, some (the blue crescent shaped shadow for example) are perhaps just pure visual elements? Importantly, the outer outline of the eye is broken at the sides. All this complex shading gives a kind of shiny, watery feeling that suggests emotion bubbling under the surface even if the rest of the expression is very simple.

Coco’s eyes are very wide, representing her innocence. More adult characters tend to have narrower eyes, as we’ll see.

balance of the features

'Big eyes, small mouth’ as the name of the old roleplaying game goes. Note that Coco’s face is wider than it is tall. Just the end of the nose is drawn, but its placement suggests the 3D form of the face so it doesn’t appear flat overall. The suggest is there’s more nose but the bridge of the nose is so smooth that it doesn’t really get a line - if you’ve ever seen a plastic anime figurine you get the idea.

The emphasis is very much on the eyes.

hair

Hair is something that Shirahama really excels at, and honestly I want to absorb her secrets, so lets have a look at the way she does things. The way you can look at it is basically by dividing the hair into primary and secondary forms.

Coco here has very straight hair where the principle is particularly clear. First, you divide the hairstyle as a whole into large groups or blocks where the hair is flowing a particular way. For Coco, she has a part on her left (our right); her fringe forms one block of hair, which may go over or under the block of hair coming down from the top of her head depending on the picture.

Within each block, the hair is constructed out of smaller crescent-shaped elements which overlap each other (indicated by T-intersections between lines), and follow the overall flow. These merge towards the root of the hair block (the lines dividing them disappear)...

Then, additional lines can be drawn inside each block to add additional texture.

Judging by videos I’ve seen, Shirahama seems to be able to do these kinds of line straight away in ink, which is why they look so clean and confident.

For characters with darker hair, similar design principles apply, but instead of indicating the flow of the hair through outlines, Shirahama uses white lines within the form to indicate specular highlights. (Contrast Coustas’s eyes here to Coco’s incidentally: their emotional states are communicated by the different shading styles).

Now, let’s take a look at Quifrey and Orugio, two of the main adult characters in the comic...

Quifrey (right) has to carry a lot of the comic, and if you look at Shirahama’s design notes, he’s also one whose design evolved the most towards the fairly bishie one he got in the end. He has to be goofy, kindly, and sometimes sinister. He’s certainly not a villain, but he is willing to do some pretty shady shit - but he’s also good at presenting a generally sort of bemused affect, which is indicated by simplifying his design a lot.

The Gandalf/Dumbledore sort of archetype, but less magisterial - Quifrey is not an especially powerful witch. There’s a very overt indication of his divided nature in his glasses - there’s a plot reason why they’re different colours but the combination of dark lens and fringe hiding his eye screams “he’s hiding something”.

Quifrey’s friend Orugio (left) meanwhile is a more straightforward character, hard working, down to earth and straight-laced but out of a genuine sense of caring. Honestly, the fact he has facial hair is something that’s very rare in manga! One thing I notice just now while searching for suitably illustrative panels is that his face is often seen angled down, while Quifrey is more often seen from below.

The basic construction is similar to the kids’ heads, but a few differences to notice. As is the rule, adults’ eyes are proportionally a lot smaller than kids’ eyes. The construction of the face is slightly more angular, and they actually have noses.

Quifrey’s hair is a lot messier than Coco’s, but it’s essentially constructed out of the same overlapping crescents, which don’t especially respect gravity for Quifrey. Orugio’s hair is a solid dark mass, with a lot of loose strands around the edges, but you can still kind of see the locks of hair providing structure to the shape.

Shirahama’s lines are usually very even and thin, but she’ll often use a thicker line in a face closeup to emphasise the jawline, and in general a very subtly thicker line to outline forms than to hatch inside them. She uses screentones as you can see, but also extensively uses very neat hatching to create blocks of shadow or blend lines into larger shadow shapes. Her lines have an incredible amount of confidence and precision.

That’s faces, but what about the figure as a whole? One of Shirahama’s real gifts is her ability to draw flowing cloth with an incredible sense of motion. Here’s a classic Shirahama splash panel...

The contrast of organic shapes of cloth against the large circular element is something Shirahama loves doing - as is the use of negative space.

Breaking down the cloth: you have the solid lines representing the outer edge of folds, and then hatching within the body of the cloak to indicate shadows. In some places the hatching runs along the direction of the folds, in other cases perpendicular with it, all blending together. You can basically see how it breaks down into conical pipe folds that overlap each other, coming to a sinuous line at the bottom. Then this biiiig shape is contrasted against Quifrey’s thin neck, always upright, and the area of detail in his face. It’s just like. Really expert drawing by someone who knows the craft up and down.

There aren’t a lot of opportunities to see how Shirahama goes about designing one of these figures, but there are a couple of roughs she’s put out, so let me take a brief look at that to wrap up the drawing section.

this is a rejected draft for one of the first pages in the story. it looks like Shirahama roughs things out in quite a thick pencil, then uses a blue pencil(?) to refine, before inking. I suspect there may be more steps between, which she rubs out before inking...

These early designs seem to have been drawn into a thicker pen, with less care taken over the linework. What’s most interesting to me is how much Quifrey’s head shape changed as Shirahama’s concept of the character evolved.

Finally here’s a timelapse video of Shirahama inking a drawing of Coco.

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You can see she starts with a pencil sketch that has the major shapes nailed down but not yet the line quality. She outlines all the main shapes, erases the pencils, then fills in the details at a slightly lower line weight. She’s got a ridiculously confident hand considering how much detail is going straight to ink in a way that makes my digital artist brain flinch.

The way Shirahama uses hatching reminds me a bit of Kimihiko Fujisaka, artist for Voice of Cards. I think I gotta practice more in ink lol, digital just doesn’t seem to give the same feel. Something about the mechanics of the way the pen flicks across the paper, maybe?

And that’s I think everything I have to say. Read this comic, it’s good! ...oh wait, there’s an anime coming! As yet, the studio and staff are to be determined. Shirahama’s style seems very difficult to capture in animation, so I’ll be curious to see how they handle it.

Next up: The Less Than Epic Adventures of TJ and Amal I think.

#comics #witch hat atelier #manga #comics comints

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emeraldtart · 8 months

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What the AYuus would wear for during the spooky Halloween Event.

(Note: Not including the Yuus who are characters from another show being thrown into Twisted Wonderland)

Autobot!Yuu/Electro Swing - probably a demonic car. First Year Squad would definitely draw a pumpkin on their front hood. They can't walk around, so instead just drives around the road.

Lore: It is said that NRC once allowed vehicles within the school grounds, but after a particularly nasty incident it was banned. The spirit of the student dying in that car crash possessed their vehicle, and though the Headmaster had thrown the car away it's spirit lives on. Now, the demonic car roams the school grounds on Halloween night, chasing whoever stayed behind late. Those who got caught will become it's passengers and be brought to the Underworld.

Floyd: Hey, isebi-chan, why don't you just ram them? I mean, it's not like anyone can sue a demon car, right?

ES: Floyd, that's illegal.

Floyd: Not if no one says anything, hehe~

Cat!Yuu/Blacky - The same as Grim's, a witch. They mostly photo bombs the Halloween pictures, Cater and Vil's followers made a game of trying to spot the cat wearing a witch's hat.

Lore: Black cats are a symbol of both luck and misfortune. If you are a good person, the cat will reward you, if you're not, well... Let's just say you're not in for a good time. Rumours said that if you distress the students and faculty of the school, the black cat will come cross your path, putting you under misfortune's care and making your visit a living hell. If you're still alive in the end, that is.

Jack: How did the cat knows what to do? You sure that's a normal cat?

Ace: We all just accept everything Blacky does at this point. Now help me tear open these pillows, we're running out of feathers to throw at those monsters.

Cookie!Yuu/Dream Ink Cookie - Trey makes their costume using icing. They decided to be a grim reaper.

Lore: The school kitchen has its fair share of incidents, but a long time ago before the school was built it was once a burial ground for soldiers in war. Not having a proper burial, their souls screamed each Halloween, begging to be discharged of their eternal fate. They will do anything to be freed of their torment, and they are more than happy to make you join them. If you visit the kitchen during Halloween, there are high chances you will be attacked by sharp utensils and kitchen appliances.

Jamil: You guys really hate those Magicam Monsters, huh?

Dream Ink Cookie: They tried to eat us Jamil. We deserve attempted murder at this point.

Jamil: Okay, you may continue. Don't make a corpse, we don't want a lawsuit.

Dream Ink Cookie: Can we maim them?

Jamil: Some scrathes, yes. Permanent injuries, no.

Splashmon!Yuu/Splashmon - An exorcist (disguise form) and Jangsanbeom (true form).

They can just scare people in their true form, but decided to go full theater kid on those Magicam Monsters because they want to have fun.

Lore: Come one, come all. Listen to my story dear guests. There was once a mountain full of tigers, kings of the forest and keeper of balance. When humans came they hunted the tigers, at first for protection, then for glory, and finally for sports. When the tiger's in the mountains went extinct, their restless spirit sought revenge. They imitate voices of loved ones, making them follow them before devouring them whole. Some says they will take on the appearance of an exorcist or a storyteller. Hm? Who's that?

Sebek, from outside Ramshackle: GET OUT! YOU'RE IN DANGER!! THERE'S A TIGER MONSTER THAT EATS PEOPLE IN THERE!!!

Ah, it seems that I have been found out.

Eenie, meenie, miney, mo~

Which of you shall I eat first? ~

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captain-astors · 7 months

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H, J, and P?

H - What is your favorite source text for fandom stuff (e.g., TV shows, movies, books, anime, Western animation, etc.)?: It really depends on what I’ve heard, but typically I prefer to read the manga if I really care about the story/want to get through it faster! However there are some cases like Land of the Lustrous or Jujutsu Kaisen where the animation is so good that I start with what’s out of the anime, then go back and read it to ensure I don’t miss any details. Or alternatively, I go to the anime if I just want it as a background story while I draw. I’ve been doing that with Attack on Titan recently, it was a lot better than I anticipated so I presume the general negative opinion I’ve heard derived from its overpopularity not the quality itself? Or maybe it gets really problematic or something, haven’t finished it yet. As for Movies Vs. Books it’s a similar situation, but I prefer books more generally.

J - Name a fandom you didn’t think about until tumblr: Honestly, I’ve been introduced to a good portion of my recent fandoms by a friend of mine first, and then convinced to actually start them by tumblr art/my mutuals (mostly Quinn) so if I had to think of something that was genuinely introduced to me here… Good Omens? Haven’t watched it but I see them on my dash constantly. Oh also Witch Hat Atelier!

P - Invent a random AU for any fandom (we always need more ideas): Tokyo Ghoul obviously,

maybe an AU where all the folks pulling strings and playing king (Arima, Kaneki, Furuta, Eto) somehow end up in a very uneasy alliance to take down V for good. They argue over the ultimate goal constantly, they all hate at least two of the others, nothing’s really going well but they do get stuff done… somewhat, but they hate each other’s methods and tend to end up fighting after ever decision, and very rarely consulting each other before. The only thing keeping them united is a common goal and wanting to die.

AU where Haise is sent with the Quinx to deal with Noro instead of capturing Shuu on the roof. Shirazu doesn’t die, neither does Kanae (unless Eto decides to dispose of them?) but also, Haise never stops dreaming. But, a King is needed anyways and thus he ends up tentatively playing the role despite shironeki continuing to insist he be let out. I thought this one up right now and I haven’t considered consequences to this yet, but I like it as a concept.

Don’t think I’m inventing this but, AU where someone, legitimately anyone, comes to rescue Kaneki in time, hopefully helping him steer away from the mindset of “No one is able to help me”

AU where Juuzou and Hanbee are a little too effective and end up actually killing Kaneki (or injuring him to the point where he’s unable to dragon-ify even after taking a bite out of Hajime, leaving him only with the strength to flee) effectively throwing a wrench in everyone’s plans.

Not an AU but do you ever think about the fact that every single crucial event in Tokyo Ghoul wouldn’t have happened if Tsuneyoshi was just actually a good dad.

AU where everyone has actually decent parents (This one’s a joke but I actually cannot conceive of it.)

AU were Hide, Kimi, or someone else is the person to get Ghoul’d instead of Kaneki and the consequences thereof.

Very self-indulgent AU where Koori gets kidnapped by Aogiri instead of/in addition to Amon or Takizawa (mostly just writing this here because I’d like to draw it maybe, thematically I’m not really even sure it would work for him to begin with, but I like drawing theoretical ghouls.)

Also not really inventing this but I’d also like to draw a Pokémon AU some time.

#miscellaneous not-art things #zeph answers questions about media/characters/ships #I loved writing this actually. My ideas aren’t spectacular but heck it I like sharing them!

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ecargmura · 5 months

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Witch Hat Atelier Volume 4 Review

Why does this story keep getting better with each volume? Witch Hat Atelier is seriously what I consider a modern masterpiece in its own right. I can’t wait for the anime to happen. Unlike the previous volume, this one is focuses on a new arc, so I won’t be reviewing it by each chapter and it’ll be one concise review overall. This volume primarily focuses on Richeh, as she’s on the cover, but it’s also focusing on the Second Exam, where she and Agott participate alongside another apprentice.

Richeh is someone who wants to become a witch in her own way; what I mean about that is that she wants to be ‘original’. She wants to make her own spells and not use anyone else’s because she believes that using other people’s creations is unoriginal and just a replica. One of her original spells that she shows off is the ability to make ribbons out of crystals. Unfortunately, this mindset was seen as childish from her previous mentor, which was why she left and went to study under Qifrey. The reason why she kept on pursuing her originals was because her older brother Rili loved seeing her make originals. However, Rili isn’t present in this book aside from the flashback, so I cannot be for certain if Rili is still alive, or if he still has that same mindset as before. Because Richeh wants to pursue her own originals, she’s very stubborn because of it. She had left an abusive mentor because of her clash in ideals and when Qifrey signed her up to take the Second Exam without her consent, she becomes furious, but still takes it begrudgingly. However, because she’s adamant about using other people’s magic, she actually doesn’t know a lot of other spells that can help her in times of need, like in their situation with the Brimhat.

Agott has studied under the same mentor with Richeh, but they’re totally different. Agott is willing to work hard and go beyond her capabilities just because of her status as a daughter of the Arklaum family. She works to make them proud. Unlike Richeh, she knows a plethora of magic that helps the apprentices out in tight spots, and even knows how to grab a Brimhat’s attention by saying that Coco isn’t present. She’s smart to analyze that Coco is the Brimhat’s target. However, because she’s so headstrong, it makes her an easy target to be captured; she was almost caught in the Brimhat’s trap of engraving forbidden magic onto her, but managed to escape thanks to Richeh. Since this volume focused more on Richeh, Agott wasn’t too much of a focus; hopefully, she’ll be back to importance in the next volume.

Euini is a new character introduced in this volume. He is a negative Nancy with self esteem lower than the North Pole’s temperature. He has failed the test twice, so this is his third attempt. The reason for his low confidence is due to his master Kukrow’s abusive behavior. Despite the abuse, he stays with him because he wants his master to be proud of him. This already starts the contrast between him and Richeh. Richeh left an abusive master, while Euini stayed with his. Euini’s lack of confidence also makes him unable to draw due to anxiety. He has memorized countless amounts of spells, but whenever he takes the test, he blanks out. I can relate to him at times. I did find his anxious personality annoying at first, but then I realized that he’s a rather sweet boy underneath all the baggage. He just wants to be someone his master can be proud of, but the abuse has made it so that he hates himself the most—he even said that he wants to be someone else and not himself; that’s why he thinks replicating other people’s spells are preferable rather than making one’s own. However, he does have his own instance of making his own spells as he gave them to Richeh, just in case she needs them. His shadow cloak is a very interesting spell. However, I felt bad for what happened to him towards the end of the volume. He doesn’t deserve to be engraved a forbidden spell just when he started gaining confidence. That was a serious slap in the face.

Other than the exam, with Coco, Qifrey and Tetia, their portion is more of world building and character building on Coco’s part. Coco learns her specialty, making straight lines. Her passion for magic differs from Richeh, but I do like how these two still respect each other despite their polar differences in magic. Coco’s love for magic is a big influence for those around her. It’s making Agott be nicer to her and it’s making Qifrey soften up as he realizes that magic exists to make people happy, to which he agrees with.

Then, there is also an interesting world building aspect in this volume. Where they are used to be an ancient civilization called Romonon where the ruler decided to segregate the people and classify them into her preferences. She didn’t want ugly, poor and sick people around her, so they became of the lowest class while those that didn’t fit that category flourished. Later on, the ruler then developed a strange power to turn people into gold. The magic reminds me of how Coco accidentally petrified her mother. What I’ve learned about reading about history in fantasy stories is that the stories did happen and that the protagonists would later encounter them; lo and behold, Coco, Tetia and Qifrey stumble upon the rumored gold statues. This means that the petrified people are still alive and they have been trapped in that state for countless years; this means Coco’s mother is technically alive too. That’s scary to think about.

Also, I hope Alaira is alright. She’s too hot to die this early. Anyways, I’m excited to read Volume 5 when I get the chance. I just hope Euini can be saved. I also do wonder how Coco and the others will get out of that cave. Will they defeat the Brimhat too? If you have read this volume, what are your thoughts on Witch Hat Atelier and this portion of the story?

#witch hat atelier #kamome shirahama #coco #richeh #agott #euini #tetia #qifrey #alaira #kukrow #review #manga #ecargmura #arum journal

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incarnateirony · 1 month

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Talking to another true aged Thoth dedicant is fascinating. One, he believes every word of what I've told him, because it falls into what he experienced, but also is aware how this falls into much larger motions.

While ironically I am, within a roving egregore, in a moving demiurge state, I'm not even the only person doing that. Shit, people been doing that since the dawn of time. But when I say these are generational damages across metempsychosis/transmigration, I mean it. Shea's shit is rotten several lifetimes deep, and impacts very widely as a result, and is a Peak Whore Of Babylon type to be eradicated tis cycle, but she's like, not the only one, and this dude is both aware of that but also, after talking to me, fully cognitive on why she's fucking me up so bad.

Like, yeah, that tracks. Hard enough to keep your hat on through and after that, and this cycle has a helluva setup going on asrologically that would probably make you boogaloo all on its own, but add in the world's dumbest stalker--what'd you call her, crackbear lilith?--and yeah, someone made the Universe snap on them.

Yeah. And now the universe is processing her out if she refuses to budge this time.

He's sooo much like me, defines as a Khaote, avoids formal lodges.

Meanwhile crackbear's out here clinging to my old romance playlist for roleplay mixed in with my new great hits and her emo pining, to draw variants of my shit, mostly my shadow block, to hump as a coping body pillow for what she can't face she chose to lose, and refusing to read any books, cuz they will also point out the same things, and it's better for her to hide her eyes from the truth, in her head. Like goddamn it took 2 solid weeks to pull her off the anime octopus jibberish halfway, at least on her blog title, and then she ran to be crackbear. She has no direction, path, reason, method, nothing, she just has what she wants to play barbie in now.

She's been fucking people up for her own ego since Vesuvius. And earlier probably. Not sure why Hermes tried to have faith she'd change now.

Did you know the greeks believed volcanic eruptions came from Tartarus? Funny story.

There were over 111 earthquakes in yesterday's 24 hour period alone, not counting what the eclipse will bring. Our realistic Schumann Resonance with appropriate magnifier is at almost 300 and expected to climb. We're under intense solar winds, only half generated from the sun itself and large portions appearing opposite, coming from Somewhere Else. Radiation is peaking, the aurora is having a disco, the world is shaking, prophets are singing my song that I've never met, and she's still picking her nose and denying everything going on around her when it reads like a fucking book narrative, just deadass able to be followed point to point. One she should even remember, from internet breaks, chat GPT and other AI screams, to our entire solar and other astrological configuration and events. But if she acknowledges that, then she has to acknowledge the other shit.

Yeah man, you made Coyote hate you, and it's all your own fault, process it. Now be honest. All the way. And let us go. All the way. If he decides to return to you then so be it, but let's not pretend he'll fly right back to your window after all this heartless caging. Much less if you continue to refuse the work.

It's time, Shea. You're not a little girl anymore, stop acting like a witch who just found her first "turn into a cat" mewmew rhyme spell on webcrawler.

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What you are experiencing is the horrifying realization that for all those years, I was right. And it takes work, effort, and learning. I never force anyone down one specific path, but you tried to force yourself down mine without wanting to actually do it, just ride on my back. I've learned enough to teach dozens of paths, even if they aren't mine, to send people on their way, and you won't even be assed to learn a single one, just play "I'm special cuz I talk to spirits (shadows)" and "om nom nom reeses cups for the gods" with a touch of "feeling nostalgic, gonna pretend I'm not roleplaying to my ex's top jams on his face trying to recreate him." and like. that's it sweetie. That's what you've got.

You literally have to unpack that. You do that? You'll be more powerful than you'll ever know. Give yourself ten years uninterrupted on that path and you, too, may be possessing random idiots like your current self to holler about your shit into the internet because they open door themselves like you do. But right now, you can't even cast a beginner spell. Not really. You can put together parts you read in a recipe but understanding and thus willing its function, no you fuckin don't, miss "tried to summon an archangel and just threw a tiny aaron shadow @ aaron--why is he just laughing and throwing it back at me??"

Because you have no power here. Your heart is in nothing you own, and it certainly isn't with YHVH's path, and you lead people from the path to providence, and there is a millstone reserved for you with him, especially as you cling to your shadow serpents. That's why, Shea.

Your words give life meaning and shape. And until you reach attainment, you can't copy my words. You don't understand them or the state of being or the path that rendered them. You have zero actual UNDERSTANDING, just antithetical mimicry. So, those words give me meaning in your life. Those portraits you convinced others to draw, or drew yourself, those give me power in your life. Every compulsive prayer or offering--frankly every stubborn attempt to reblog hermes to prove something. Am I Hermes? No, but you've wholy attached him to me in your head, hence the renderings you convinced others of, so like. Cool, you reblogged a classic Hermes, I see you're still on your shit with no individual vision?

Your words. Give. Life. Meaning. And if you want to have a meaning in life that isn't defined by me, my shadows, or you spinning in circles of denial, your first words need to be to yourself, and to that shadow lady. And to apologize. To Athena. And reach out and take her hand, and help her out first, and say you're sorry. "You're me." But you gotta understand it Shea. And she's just part of that screaming lady. To be honest, to Mark and anyone else you've fucked up with this. And to apologize to at least Hermes, since I'm still convinced you'll never apologize to me no matter what you've done to me, you've thoroughly dehumanized me in your head to the point transphobia is free.

We've done what we can to help Athena but you have to do SOMETHING. YOU HAVE TO MOVE THE BOX, SHEA.

Hey. Shea.

...Ever wake up from a dream with real weird narrative consistency?

I know you like centering yourself in all things, and while it is literally applicable to you, I do actually mean it about myself.

I did. Took a few dozen bullets to the head and zipping through timelines to find a hat I could save, but I did, okay?

That's what you're fucking off with and refuse to admit.

I really like it here. I just want to be in the game, in peace, but you won't let me, so now we're ending it.

It's time to start facing how deep over your head you are, how large the workings against you are, and how committed I am. It's time to face that this is real. And it's time to cough up my fucking Air Jordans. Because I just need one fucking person to believe me. And that person is you. The metaphorical shoes, madam.

I swear there's some books somewhere about what happens when someone that completes a mystic path dies but doesn't die. IDK, you probably never read any of those. Maybe imagine Jack sparrow in Davey Jones' locker, and when he comes back all the other Jacks are still there, and summarily fuck up anybody else in the locker, and the real secret is, you're all in the motherfucking locker. We're off the edge of the track-map mate, did you think I was kidding?

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#what was it you said?#listen to the lyrics?

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weirdmarioenemies · 3 years

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Banjo-Kazooie Spotlight

Hello, all! Guest writer Bynine here with an article on my favorite game of all time! Despite the immense popularity of this beloved N64 classic, the enemies of Banjo-Kazooie are not something that often comes up in discussion. Well, I'm here to change that!! Or at least, write well too much about some choice picks from the bestiary. Let's go!

Topper

Topper is the first in a small collection of sentient, googly-eyed vegetables that live in Spiral Mountain, where heroes Banjo and Kazooie also reside. Get used to those googly eyes, by the way, because you'll be seeing them a lot. Anywho, I really like the name Topper. You know, like "carrot top"! Great names are another feature of this series.

Bawl

Speaking of which, here's Bawl. Bawl is a fun name! It's hard to say without a southern drawl - bawwwl. Besides that, I don't have much to say about this hopping onion, but I still appreciate you, Bawl.

Colliwobble

The finale of our vegetable trio, and I'll be honest, I've saved the best for last. Sorry, Topper and Bawl, but it's a flying cauliflower called Colliwobble! How can you not love that? It flaps around gently with its big leaves, sustaining flight in a physically improbable yet adorable manner. How come the real thing can't do that, huh? No amount of bourbon roasted, brown butter baked cauliflower can convince me that we didn't get the short end of the stick here.

Gruntlings

The henchmen of the villainous witch Gruntilda, these oafish ogres patrol the halls of her lair, running after Banjo in a stance I'm sure they think is very intimidating.

Or maybe they want a hug? C'mere, big fella.

The most striking thing about Gruntlings to me is their impeccable fashion sense. They come in a variety of colors, and each one has a rakishly charming cloak to match, emblazoned with a fetching skull emblem. Would you mind stretching your arms out, Mr. Black Gruntling?

Thank you. Did Gruntilda coordinate these outfits? I'd believe it - she has a great ensemble herself, replete with a gorgeous purple striped scarf. And this is the same lady who's decorated her entire lair with images of her own face, after all...

Shrapnel

These ornery armaments are in the tragic category of enemies whose only goal in life is to detonate directly next to you. It's fitting then that they're based on a naval mine, but they also (perhaps unintentionally?) resemble sea urchins! How fun!

Normally they look fairly docile, even cute with their little underbite, but when Banjo draws near they growl and do... this. You okay there, buddy?

They're also the only enemies that appear in every Banjo-Kazooie platformer game! Clearly Rare knew they had a winner on their hands. Look at their pretty colors in Banjo Tooie! Look, but don't touch, please. It won't end well for anybody.

Sir Slush

Anyone who's played Banjo-Kazooie will be familiar with these goons. Living snowmen are usually quite jolly, and Sir Slush is no exception, with his consistent and hearty laughter. However, instead of frolicking in the snow, all Sir Slush does is pelt our heroes with snowballs. Rude!

Similar to the platonic ideal of living snowman himself, Frosty the Snowman, the life force of Sir Slush seems to be concentrated in its hat. It's invulnerable to most forms of damage, but if Kazooie strikes its hat at high velocity, it will be blown into icy chunks. Is this a similar principle to the "aim-for-the-head" zombie-killing technique? Are snowmen not merely zombies, extra ice, hold the flesh? Human bodies are 70% water anyway!

Slappa

Another classic bestiary staple, the living hand! Slappa are gargantuan mummified arm-hand combos that pop up without warning from the dusty sands of Gobi's Valley, the requisite desert level of Banjo-Kazooie. True to their name, their main method of attack is a slap, where they simply fall over, crushing anything in their path. The most confusing thing about Slappas is that they have the ability to speak - they laugh if they manage to land a hit, and groan in pain when defeated. How are you talking, Slappa? Do you have a mouth hidden under those bandages? Maybe a whole face?

Artist's interpretation

There also exists a single non-violent Slappa called Grabba, who clutches onto a Jiggy and hides underground with it if you get too close. Should you manage to grab it, they mention having had it for a thousand years, but then congratulate you on your technique. Of all the traits to be assigned to a mummified hand, "sportsmanlike" was not one I was expecting, but I'll gladly take it.

Tee-Hee

Another winner of a name! Tee-Hee! That's great! This design is great too, in my humble opinion. You wouldn't expect a ghost to have such a goblinoid appearance, but Tee-Hee delivers both flavors of common RPG monster at once in an elegant package. Naturally Tee-Hees can phase through walls and are invincible to most attacks, staples of any Game Ghost (TM), and their pursuit is marked with constant laughter. Admittedly their laugh is more of a "mua-ha-ha" than a "tee-hee", but I'm willing to forgive it.

There's also a purple version! This one ignores Banjo and Kazooie entirely, preferring to move around in square patterns. Don't worry, though, it still laughs a lot. What's so funny about squares? Only the purple Tee-Hee knows.

Grimlet

Appearing on a ship known as the Rusty Bucket, Grimlet will disguise themselves as ordinary pipes, only showing their eyes and fangs when Banjo and Kazooie draw near. Despite their metallic appearance, they can stretch their bodies way out to take a bite out of bears and birds alike. You know, I like this design, but I feel like it could be improved somehow. Hmm...

Ooh! The beta version of Grimlet has a really interesting twist- eyes in its own mouth! Of course, any monster is improved when it puts its peepers in its gullet, and Grimlet is no exception. Well, let's keep going!

An even earlier screenshot shows them with white, human eyes... and with a fleshy inner maw... Nope, I don't like this one bit. Abort!

Ahhh... Much better. Now that's a sentient cowl ventilator that I'd let take a chunk out of me. No, I don't have a problem! Quiet, you!

Of course, there are many more denizens of the BK universe worthy of scrutiny - in a universe where even common collectibles will strike up a conversation with you, that's not surprising. In particular, a Banjo-Tooie showcase would be a lot of fun... But I have to stop myself somewhere. Until next time!

#banjo-kazooie #banjo kazooie #enemies #topper #bawl #colliwobble #gruntling #shrapnel #sir slush #slappa #grabba #tee-hee #grimlet #bynine #guest writer #mod orange shy guy

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supremeinlilac · 3 years

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Into the light (I'll hold you)

Pairing: Coven!Cordelia Goode x Fem!Reader

Prompt: Slow dancing in the greenhouse.

Word Count: 2557

Warnings: Self doubt, angst.

A/n: Canon divergent, H*nk doesn't exist and Delia's acid attack never happened, although she has still had the Sight previously. Was saving this fic but fuck it, I'm posting it now😌

Halloween.

The night of eerie suspense and the lingering sense of being watched. You enjoyed the days festivities when you were younger, skipping excitedly door to door under a white sheet with your friends.

This Halloween would be your second at Miss Robichaux’s, the first you’d all gone out to a party and got a little too drunk, returning to an irritated Ms Goode. It had been the first time you’d kissed her, and she’d rejected you because of the state you’d been in.

Still, it was the night that had started the path of your relationship with the headmistress.

You loved Halloween.

This year, Fiona Goode, reigning Supreme, returned to the academy. You were instantly weary of her, due to the fact Delia never liked to bring her mother up in conversation of her past. When you’d overheard her telling your girlfriend that she was wasted potential in the school, a prickle of icy anger called the hair at the nape of your neck to stand rigid.

You and the rest of the witches had decided to stay in, watch films and play games. It wasn’t often that everyone could get together to celebrate an evening where witches were celebrated, so they wanted to make the most of the friendly atmosphere that surrounded them. It never lasted long in the coven.

Fiona went out to a bar, her witches hat crooked atop her head and you found yourself glaring at her as she left. The woman alit a flame inside you, one that easily spread and engulfed your powers, fire licking hotly at the tips of your fingers and threatened to overpower you.

Cordelia had stayed behind with you, much to her mother protest, to have a quiet night while the rest of the hubbub would be concentrated in the living room. You were both wrong to think that there’d be no disturbances.

The shattering of glass fractured the silence in your shared room with Cordelia. She’d been braiding your hair, an intimacy that the pair of you rarely found time to do together. She hummed the song you were sung as a child, a habit that she’d picked up in your time at the coven, the action now second nature. It no longer only served to soothe you, but now it brought her comfort too.

Her fingers stilled in your hair, head snapping to the door. You heard a couple of loud thuds and shouts, and then her hand was clutching yours protectively.

“Hey Cordelia?” You heard Queenie shout up the stairs, “you best look outside.”

She was off the bed like it had burned her, drawing the curtains back to show the slow advance of the people outside. You heard her shaky inhale, before she fisted her hands in her trousers and turned to you.

“It’s just the locals. Playing tricks on us, you know how Madison likes to irritate them the rest of the year. Lord knows we’re not the best neighbours,” her face looked serious but the waver in her voice betrayed her. She sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than you.

It had been a blur after that, shouting and running, and Cordelia slipped out of your grasp. You’d been fighting, had a kitchen knife pressed into your hand by, Zoe, maybe? No. It had been one of the other girls.

They wouldn’t die, those zombies, if that’s even what they were. You’d slashed at a part of them that they shouldn’t have been able to get back up from. Yet it did, limbs flailing and reaching spindly towards you.

Knocked to the ground, you think you must have passed out. But not before you’d seen Cordelia trying to defend the house, eyes furious and scared and dark.

You remembered the purr of the chainsaw, the splatter of blood. The silence that hung after.

The next day you found Cordelia sat at her usual bench in the greenhouse, frows furrowed in concentration as she mixed ingredients with the gentle crack of test tubes and vials. You could see the anguish behind hooded eyes, it was clear that she’d been restless last night, down here long past when everyone else slept.

You had seen her from your window as you’d been drawing the curtains the night before, standing over the pile of haphazardly thrown bodies of the zombies. You weren’t sure how long she’d spent there, not wanting to disturb her until now.

She’d also been absent at both breakfast and dinner, with the excuse of paperwork, but you could see through the thinly veiled lie. You brought her a sandwich and a yogurt, setting them down on a bench before pulling a chair up beside her to watch her work.

Cordelia could mix potions and restore plants without thinking, her craft a lovingly perfected dance in which he moved around the greenhouse with practised ease, plucking vials off the shelves and balancing glassware in steady hands.

Her hands shook. Slightly, almost unnoticeable was the small tremor but it indicated her unease. There was blood still crusted under her fingernails.

You softly coaxed her to put the glass down with fingers around her wrists, guiding her to look at you before lazily lacing your fingers together. She whispered a greeting with a small smile, almost as if she hadn’t registered your presence until you’d touched her.

“I feel like I failed everyone. My girls.” Her voice cracked languidly, eyes falling to where your hands joined on her lap, her nails scraping at your skin nervously. “How can I be headmistress when I cannot protect you all?”

“It’s not your job to do it all alone.” You reminded her gently, thumb brushing over whitened knuckles, following the dip and contour of her skin. “Cordelia.”

A single droplet of shimmering water does not sink a ship. A single cloud cannot shield the sun. A single parent could spend years doubting their worth, unaware that it takes a village to raise a child.

No single person can bear the weight of the world’s troubles without crumbling.

Not even Cordelia, whom you thought could harness the sun if she willed it, could do everything herself. It simply was an unrealistic expectation that her mother had used to weigh her down with.

“Look at me, baby. You are not alone, okay?”

When her head lifted slowly, the light caught the water in her eyelashes, diamond tears shimmering and rolling down the curve of reddened cheeks. You were quick to coo at her, hand coming to cradle her face so you could lean to kiss them away, salt on your tongue.

She shook her head, refusing to look at you and you felt hopeless, like a bystander on the site of an accident. As much as you tried to couldn’t get close enough to her to help, to comfort her as she needed. Running in a dream, tripping over a mere breath and wading through syrup as you tried to escape.

“I’m a failure.”

You found yourself shaking your head, the phantom of a protest falling from your lips, how could Cordelia think that.

“Everything that Fiona says is true.” She continued, head falling into her arms on the desk. Your hand rested on her back, a gentle reminder of the comfort you could give her if only she asked for it. If only she would accept it when you would give it to her anyway.

“I don’t belong here.” Whispered from under her hair which hid her.

Cordelia didn’t realise her own worth, and you wondered if anyone ever truly does.

Does the night sky know its beauty? Or does it envy the blue of the day? Does it wait for the sun to kiss its head and grant it eternity. The night sky is rich with light, if it would only look deep enough within itself to find it. Burning stars and planets reflecting the sun, a kaleidoscope of colour on an ebony canvas.

Cordelia would often look at pictures of her absent mother when she believed to be alone. She was secretly envious of Fiona’s effortless graceful command and hold that she had over the whole coven. She believed her own magical abilities to be inferior to that of the Supreme’s, but it was an unfair comparison, for a Supreme would always persist.

She thought that it meant hers weren’t strong enough, scared for eventualities like the previous night, that she would fail at the role of protector. But she hadn’t failed, she’d fought just like you and Zoe, and it was just the luck of the draw that Zoe’s fear would trigger her Power Negation.

But Cordelia held such raw natural, burning potential that you’d habitually find yourself staring as she practised spells. Eyes following the deft flow of her fingers as she’d manipulate movement. She’d had the second sight within her, so at least on a subconscious level she must know her power.

“You belong here. And look around you, look at this place. Yourgreenhouse.”

“You made it into what it’s become. It’s you.” You spoke, letting yourself spin to appreciate all the work she’d put into this place, into herself.

Cordelia lifted her head, hair falling from her eyes and crowning her face as she followed your gaze to the hanging planters, the glass vials. To the floor that she’d swept only days ago, leaves starting to litter the stone again.

She watched you run fingertips over the exposed brick on the wall, your attention solely on her work around you. She could see the adoration in the iris’ of your eyes, alight with your honesty. You gaze returning, always, to her as you walked to her.

Tentatively, you reached out for her. Was she yet ready to accept your help, your love as you wanted to give it to her?

Still unsure, Cordelia shied away from your comforting touch, head returning to her hands.

“You don’t have to live behind Fiona’s words anymore.” You whispered into her temple, as if straight into her mind.

Sometimes it is easier to live in the shadows than to confront those who cast them.

She’d spent her whole life cowering in Fiona’s shadow, growth and development stunted from the lack of light. Self-belief fractured into a gaping crack.

She’d been trapped, dark and alone with a mother figure who didn’t love her in a way she understood how to be loved. They both loved each other then, and ove each other now, but sometimes mere love isn’t enough. It isn’t consistent enough to be safe. You can love someone and still hurt them.

You had spent time working on her confidence, creeping back into the light and into herself again. Breaking down the thoughts that had grown to immobile threatening walls that only served to block the light more.

All it had taken was one night of Fiona being back for all that progress to retreat back to where they’d been hidden. Cordelia had urged you then to back away, to leave her and grow by yourself, that she was only holding you back.

But you gritted your teeth and grinned in the face of the devil. You weren’t scared of the dark. And you’d be damned if you were leaving it without your girlfriend. Even if you had to start right back at the beginning, you’d help her to heal.

“You could be the next Supreme.” You urged, pulling her head from where it rested on the table, forcing her to look in your eyes and see your honesty.

“Don’t say things that aren’t true.” She begged, vision hazed by tears.

“But it is true, Delia. You’re so powerful.” You pressed, eyes conveying your severity like your voice couldn’t. Willing her to believe.

You reached to brush the tears that clung to her eyelashes before they fell and stained her face. A lingering kiss to her lips, the feeling of her lower lip wobbling between your own. In that moment, you could feel her fragility.

You didn’t want to push further, knowing that she may never truly believe in her full potential like you did. Instead, you pushed yourself to feet and bounced in front of her. She looked up in confusion, eyes still full with tears that caught the light, and you wanted nothing more than to kiss them away again. They didn’t deserve to dampen her skin.

“Dance with me?” You asked, standing and offering a hand the way you’d so often seen in movies.

A shy smile formed on the headmistress’ lips, cheeks pink and the tips of her ears flushed as she allowed herself to be pulled from her seat. Into the shine of the moonlight, which shone beams of liquid silver through the glass onto the hard stone and the soft of Cordelia.

Your arms secured themselves around her waist while hers stroked the back of your neck. Moments like this made you wonder if perhaps the cliché’s people told you about love had been true. Maybe this could be forever. It always felt like forever when you were in her arms.

You swayed to phantom music, slow and deliberate, soft touches and kisses on bare shoulders. You felt like even a whisper would shatter the perfect peace you’d enveloped you both in, sending ripples of doubt over the sheer water and to Cordelia again.

The moon felt like perfect company in that moment, like a third person, watching and waiting. A witness to the silent change.

Cordelia pressed her forehead to yours, her fingers splayed through the hair at the back of your head, holding you close. You could see the depth of her eyes, searching for the lie in yours that wasn’t there to find. You truly believed that she was the next Supreme, she had to be.

“Say something.” She breathed, hand on your waist dancing under the hem of your top, cold fingers on warm skin.

“Like what?” You asked, pulling back momentarily so you could smile at her. The hand that was behind your head tucked hair behind your ear and brought your hand from her shoulder so she could press lips to your knuckles. The ridge of bone under the soft of her skin and then she was hugging you again.

“Anything, I just want to hear your voice.”

So you told her about yourself. Stories she’d never heard and memories you’d thought you’d forgotten. Whispers of your past shared with your future.

She nuzzled her chin into the crook of your neck and listened, breathing deep the smell of your perfume that clung, lingering to the collar of your clothes.

A laugh.

Rippling up your throat at reminiscing a memory, vibration muffled against her ear at your jaw, and Cordelia swore that she could feelyour emotions. Truly feel you, and she realised that you couldn’t lie to her. Couldn’t will yourself to say something untrue just to still the aching beat of her heart within her chest.

You couldn’t make yourself want to mend her. You didn’t want that. You wanted to help her heal. Heal from her past that held less joy and laughter than yours did.

You wanted to help her create memories of her own, just like this.

Slow dancing in the greenhouse.

Dancing in the dark under the glow of the patient moon.

taglist: @pearplate @billiedeansbottom @okpaulson @pluied-ete @magnifique-monstre @extraordinarilycelestrial @mssallymckenna @magnificent-paulsonn @shineestark @commanderspeach @grilledcheeseandguavajelly @darling-dontforgetme @amethyst-bitch @its-soph-xx @germansarechill @bluesxrgnt @d14n4ol @ninaahs @sarahp-stan @natasha-danvers @imgayandmymomdoesntknow @lovelypeasantjellyfish @rainbow-hedgehog @paulawand @saucy-sapphic @lilypadscoven @citizenoftheworld-stuff-blog @venablemayfairgoode @serawalkerwrites @sapphicsarahpaulson @delias-bitch-craft ,, if you want to be added sent me an ask or reply to this post <3

#sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #cordelia goode #cordelia goode x reader #american horror story #ahs coven #ahs fic

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azazelsconfessional · 3 years

Text

((so i was gonna open up my askbox again but I got distracted doing this and watching streams i think idr what i did the past few hours, buuut there's something I need to cover first, especially since there are so many new people around! Hello! Especially since so many of you are playing OCs/MCs.

Don't worry, it's a tip to hopefully help you along! It may get a little long, especially as I try and provide examples. . .but hopefully it'll help.

I'm gonna talk a lot about OCs but this applies to canon characters too a bit. It certainly helps.

Tl;dr, you should have a character profile page.

(also remember that tumblr mobile doesn't really have direct access to Pages made with the Pages function on desktop, so you'll have to link them manually in your pinned or description or host them on another site(I used Google Docs in the apst) or in a regular post(this makes it very easy to lose as a forewarning) for maximum accessibility!)

(rules pages are also really really handy if you have alot of resteictions.)

So, in general, OCs have a bit of a lower reception rate in rp. Idk if that'll be the case here with MCs because they're, well, the main character. Housamo is also a series that lends itself well to OCs pretty well, especially non-human ones, but I figured I'd warn for that.

BUT. That doesn't mean you shouldn't play an OC! It just means there are things you need to keep in mind!

Think of all of the OCs you've seen--you all seem to be fun and wonderful people, and your characters are surely interesting. But. . .if you don't tell anybody about them, nobody will know what's going on or where to start, which makes asking questions a little hard, right? That's easier to work around with MC characters--we've played the game, we know the story, we know the characters, so we can figure out questions fairly easily based on that alone and go from there.

But with other OCs, especially those that don't represent charactera from mythology or fiction like many other characters in housamo do, there's like. Nowhere to start. We may see a face or some dialogue, but otherwise we don't have a frame of reference.

That's where a profile comes in!

Azazel-mun, I don't want to share all of the info about my character at once!

What if I don't know everything about my OC yet and want to figure it out along thw way?

The profile doesn't have to be super detailed! At most it shoule include things like the character's name and age and probably things like their location, profession, grade in school or place of work, etc., and anything you'd notice on the surface like their apperance. It's never a bad thing to include a description of their personality too, or a small section about their history/background. Little things that even you should probably know, too.

You can also section your profile off a bit into things like "surface info," "meta info," "things you could easily figure out about them," etc. That way, no one can spoil themself. Making lists like this can help you think these things through if you haven't already as well.

Let's use Azazel, a character that you probably know already, as an example here. I don't have a profile set

Name: Azazel

Species: Fallen Angel; Capra Therian - an anthropomorphic Goat (?)

Gender(pronouns): Male(he/him)

Age: difficult to calculate; several thousand years old?

Apperance age: hard to say, he's not human. Adult.

Origins: banished from his home world of Eden, has been in the human world for several thousand years

Profession: Priest of dubious denomination, most likely Catholic or Protestant; teacher at Daikanyama Academy; de facto head of the Missionaries Non-Profit charity Organization; supervisor of the Aoyama Missionaries

Role & Rule: Watcher; Revelation - allows him to see anything within the territory of the Aoyama Missionaries and anywhere the pages of his Artifact see

Apperance: Azazel is a 5'10"(180cm) tall, anthropomorphic goat of ambiguous breed, with fawn fur all over his body and lighter fur on his head and around his neck. He has brown, riged horns which curve out and back. Though his eyes are often closed, when opened they're red. He always carried around a leather bound bible with an eye on the cover, and is never seen without several chains on his person, although only the one(s) around his neck can be seen unless he's undressed.

He wears a black priest's cassock with a maroon sash and a capelet of the same color, with the same eye as on his bible on the shoulders of the cape, and brown dress shoes. The front of the robe is always open to expose his bare chest and the chains beneath.

Personality: Azazel is kind and doting, very fitting of both a teacher and priest, although his openly flirtatious, lustful, and secretive nature causes others to distrust him. He doesn't mind this at all. He has a strong adoration for humans, and values love in all of its forms more than anything. He's a bit of a passive person, often being unmotivated but working hard regardless, and seems to prefer to watch others and the world go by, although he won't decline most invitations to take part in it. He is always aware of anything that happens within the extensive territory of the Missionaries, and seems to know and see just about everything about anyone he meets, from their surface to their soul. . . .

If you know Azazel, or take note of some of the wording or question marks, you'll note I didn't explain everything(although I may have shared more than you want to.) This is just a bare bones exampe of how I do my profiles--but it can get even more bare!

I'll do two this time, a more vague version of Azazel's, and another that obscures information all together, using the same or a similar format to the above.

Name: Azazel

Species: anthropomorphic goat

Gender(pronouns): male (he/him)

Age: unquestionably an adult

Origins: Eden

Profession: Priest; teacher; head of a charity NPO; member of the Missionaries

Apperance: Horned goatman of slightly above average human height. Light brown fur, blond fur-hair, red eyes. Wears priest robes and a gold chain around his neck and chest. Carries around a bible with an eye on it?

Personality: Kind of eerie, but friendly and affectionate. A little flirtatious, especially towards humans. Seems to know everything about people for some reason?

Compare it to the one before--see how I've left even more things off or left things ambiguous while still sharing what's necessary or surface level? However, it's also not as engaging or as informative as the other one where I gave more information.

As someone who plays him, profiles like this aren't as helpful for me lol since he knows so much about everyone and everything, having a lot of details helps me play my character!

Now, as helpful as this is, this is also a character you probably know. So how about I do this with an OC? Normally I'm extremely detailed in my profiles and such, especially for OCs, sharing headcanons and ideas for relationships between characters. But, again, I'll try and show how you can show some info while leaving some up to people to ask about to later be filled in.

Name: Kezia

Faceclaim/Art Source: [this is where you would put where you get the art for any icons you use--if you draw it yourself, say so; if you use official art from a series, credit the name of the character and the series; if you use picrews, link the specific picrews. DO NOT USE ART YOU HAVE NOT BEEN PERMITTED TO USE. DO NOT STEAL ART. IF YOU CAN'T FIND THE CREDIT, ASK SOMEONE TO HELP YOU, DO NOT JUST SAY THAT IT ISN'T YOURS. DO NOT USE ART YOU HAVE NOT BEEN GIVEN PERMISSION TO USE OR THAT ISN'T FROM A SERIES OF SOME SORT.]

Species: Human

Gender(pronouns): Female (she/her)

Age: mid 20's~early 30's?

Apperance age: older than she looks?

Origins: Tokyo?

Profession: Professor; Witch

Apperance: A fidgety woman who looks older than she is. She looks anxious and confused as often as she looks curious and confident. Wavy light brown hair. Often carries around schoolbooks and is never alone, always with a Rattus Therian and often with a Nyarlathotep.

Personality: seemingly anxious, but curious and exploratative nonetheless. On the awkward side, but can still keep up with the Nyarls that accompany her. Gets into trouble when she gets ahead of herself in exploring and learning about the arcane, but her Rule allows her to disappear easily.

History: Has always been curious about magic and attempted to run through a Gate when they began to open up. Performed a summon and brought a certain transients to Tokyo and recieved her familiar and the magic to use her Rule as a result. Currently teaches at a college. She stumbled into a certain someone while attempting to explore time, and became a fan ever since.

That tells you a fair amount, doesn't it? Even for someone you don't know? It may even raise some questions that you could ask. At the same time, it doesn't tell you that much, and that can be as much of a hindrance for coming up with questions as saying too much can. It's really up to you what's too much and too little. Here's a more detailed version! Some things have been left vague or confusing in such a way that they could be filled in after being revealed through asks and play. That way, people are encouraged to/given ideas of what to ask--and you can still share things in the long run.

Name: Kezia

Faceclaim/Art Source: [N/A]

Species: Human

Gender(pronouns): Female (she/her)

Age: mid 20's~early 30's?

Apperance age: somewhere in her 30's, maybe even a little older

Origins: Tokyo, with some sort of connection to at least one other world

Profession: Professor of [?] at [?] Academy; Witch

Role & Rule: [?] & [?]

Artifact, Summon, Familiar?: Always accompanied by at least one Nyarlathotep and some sort of man-rat? She also carries around a book that's labeled as a Grimoire, but it's rare for someone to be both a summon-user and an Artifact-user. . . .

Apperance: A fidgety older woman wearing a labcoat and a witch's hat. She looks quite stressed and has trouble sitting still. Her ashy brown hair is thin and a little wavy, with some strands of gray. Although she often squints, she doesn't wear glasses. She carries around a lot of books relating to maths and sciences and one labeled 'Grimoire' decorated with arcane symbols from Gehenna and Old Ones. She's always accompanied by at least one Nyarlathotep and a very short, bearded man who can best be described as a brown rat therian with a human-like face. Sometimes there's a normal rat on her person or in her pockets.

Personality: Kezia is a fidgety and anxious magic practitioner. She's very curious about other worlds and has been since the Gates appeared in this Tokyo since she was a child, however she has been pursuing magic before then. She often appears somewhat confused about or fascenated by even her usual surroundings, but, at other times moves through the world with confidence even in unfamiliar territory. She also likes rats and other rodents, and as such will often avoid felines and birds of prey. She has a tendency to disappear, seeming to walk through walls despite assuredly being alive.

She's a little bit awkward with people, but somehow keeps up with Nyarlathoteps nonetheless. She's a good teacher, once she figures out how to explain things in ways others can understand easily, but can be a bit difficult to follow and flighty up until then. Aware of this, she's rather patient, if a little down on herself at times. However, she most often simply has her mind elsewhere. Despite this and the company she keeps, she's relatively sane. . .most of the time.

She shares a name with a witch from the world of Old Ones who made a pact with Nyarlathotep, believing him to be the Devil. . .and the ratman always at her side uses the same name as that witch's familiar as well. It's. . .probably just a coincidence. . .who would rightfully make a pact with Nyarlathotep?

History: Kezia is an adult human from this Tokyo before the apperance of the Gates and construction of the Walls. She's explored various witchcraft pursuits since she was a child, with what was originally a mere imaginative curiosity and fascination. After the arrival of the Gates when she was still young, she snuck over the fences built around one and attempted to go inside the massive pillar of light, which she attributes to the reason she often seems to struggle with her vision. Several years later, she performed a successful summon and she recieved her familiar, Brown Jenkin, transformed into a somewhat therian form from one of her pet rats, and was given some powers from Nyarlathotep. She has no discernable control over any of the chaotic creatures, however they seem to spend time around her regardless.

At present she's a professor of a subject that interests her at a certain college. She's had other dangerous run-ins due to her excitement over the arcane and "darker" arts, but doesn't seem to show any signs of stopping. However, after an incident in an attempt to explore time itself, she encountered a certain guardian of time and feels reluctant for once to explore it further. . .although she's become quite a big fan of his.

. . .i ran out of steam amd kinda lost track of where i was going. idk if that helped at all really. But maybe it did! I hope it did. You don't need to use any of those things exactly by any means, but that's the kind of thing you usually see in profile pages. Basics like someone's name and birthday and age and apperance and a little about their personality, maybe some history. Oftentimes things like powers and weapons and the like. Interests, hobbies, ways they could be intereacted with, etc. Just stuff that'd help you know the character.

I write everything in paragraph form, but everyone is more than welcome to use a more script format. I love making profiles, myself--it really helps to think about the character and details about them. Normally I make really, really detailed profiles, but maybe I'll try and be more simple about it this time around. depends on how i'm feeling.

I know this seems weirdly hypocritical given I don't have one but when I first made this blog there were like four of us including myself. I didn't see the need for a rules or profile page because I didn't anticipate that there'd be so many of us or, like, people from other fandoms or who aren't familiar with certain characters. I'll rectify that soon hopefully. But I figured I'd pass along this idea/knowledge to others.

. . .I'm gonna go reopen my askbox now. Feel free to send asks again, ask about this, etc! You can send me an IM too if you want. I'll properly close up the guest event tomorrow. I'm real tired rn lol so idk how much i'll get done, but i usually do things super late at night my time, so i have some time to pull my shit together haha))

#ooc #((anyway i'm gonna open the askbox and crawl into a hole))#((i got nothing done lol i was so engaged with something else all week))

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citydreamgrls · 3 years

Text

how much have you had to drink?

george weasley x fem!reader

words: 2,387

a/n: maybe I did use too many differing pov’s but it is what it is,, enjoy!! :)

warnings: none ( i think )

I had been the first, and only person to prank the twins back at Hogwarts. Everyone else in the school was too afraid of their tricks that it was easier to stay out of a never-ending war with them. But I'd always been up for a good challenge, even if it was a 5 year long one.

As usual the twins joined me at breakfast, ignoring Angelina who had been telling me about the upcoming halloween party, and sat either side of me.

“Morning boys,”

“y/n,” they acknowledged in unison, both reaching for toast.

“Sleep well?” I asked George.

“Oh yes, perfectly.” He said sarcastically, taking a large bite of food.

“Almost as if someone slipped us a sleeping potion.” Fred joined in on the other side of me.

“Well I had to test my homework on someone,” I admitted, unashamed of my great potion-making skills. “Anything else strange happen last night?” I asked innocently.

“Nope.” they said.

“You sure? Because I managed to get some very lovely pictures of you too sporting some very sweet hairstyles.” I waved the photos of their sleeping forms in their faces, the little red pigtails flashing before their eyes.

Oliver Wood, having caught onto the end of our conversation leant across the table to see what I had.

“So that’s why you too looked like that this morning, I was beginning to worry I’d started sleepwalking.. Or styling.” He laughed, earning a glare from the boys beside me.

“You know we will get you back y/n,” Fred warned, but his threat was empty.

“Oh come on, you boys always go easy on me.” I laughed, taking a sip of my juice and immediately spitting it back out. “Gross!”

“Oh do we?” George asked, barely looking up from his book to hex my plate into slugs.

As much as the twins and I battled, they were still my best friends and I had spent pretty much my entire time at Hogwarts at their side. Unless Angelina pulled me away to gossip about whatever ‘exciting’ thing was coming up next.

This time it was the halloween party.

“I just don’t get why I have to dress up Lina, I'm already a witch. Can’t I go as myself?” I huffed, resting my legs on her lap as we sat in front of the fire.

“The Weasley’s won’t let anyone in who isn’t dressed up, it’s the rules.”

“Oh that’s easy, they’ll let me come regardless.” I laughed.

It was as if they appeared at the sound of their name, popping their heads over the back of the sofa. Both Angelina and I jumped out of our skin, immediately reaching up to hit them in retaliation.

“Hey, you guys will still let me come to the party saturday if I don’t dress up right?” I asked with an expectant smile.

“No costume,” Fred started

“No entry,” George finished. And then walked off to the dorms.

“Oi, but it’s me-”

“No exceptions,” They called back.

I fell back into the sofa, ignoring Angelina’s smug face as she started discussing costumes once again. Tossing up whether to go as a cat, or some sort of muggle character. Not that she really knew any, but she just wanted to impress one of the boys in the year above.

“Will you help me y/n?” she pleaded, to which I finally gave in. Knowing I didn’t have anything better to do.

Saturday morning rolled around and I still hadn’t sorted my own costume, but at least Angelina was happy with her Daphne costume that I’d helped organise.

Fred and George had slipped away early from dinner last night, claiming that they had to ‘finish up party plans’. But I felt uneasy, having swapped their ties for two slytherin ones and then locking them in the dorms until 2 minutes before classes started that morning.

Yes it made me late for Mcgonigall’s lesson too, but seeing them rush in wearing the wrong uniform and having to explain that it had just been mixed up somehow to their head of house was well worth it.

Still, they could be planning payback.

The party was starting in an hour, and everyone was in their dorms getting ready. Including about three more girls than were usually in mine and Angelina’s dorm, racing around with masks and lip liner and other parts of costumes.

I walked in to see a hat with bunny ears laying on my bed.

“It’s all I could find,” Angelina told me, as she passed by to grab her purple jacket. “Dunno if it’ll be enough though.”

“I’ll sort something out, thanks Lina!” I shouted after her as she raced to use the bathroom before anyone else slipped in.

My only thought at the time was clown makeup, but I didn’t have any white face paint, and never really enjoyed its feel as it was. So I took a red lipstick and some dark eyeshadow to draw diamonds round my eyes. With the bunny hat on I looked far from scary, but paired with the clown makeup and a dark lip, I at least looked creepy.

Angelina leant me some fishnet tights to wear with my black skirt and I threw on a zip hoodie I had stolen from one of them twins years ago. I couldn’t remember which one if I was being honest.

Oliver and I had been sharing a bottle of vodka I'd brought with me from home, knowing it got everyone drunk quicker than wizard booze. Without realising it, an hour had passed, and I was yet to see either of the twins.

“You seen Fred or George tonight?” I asked the boy beside me, who was enjoying his stress-free evening.

“Yeah, Fred is dressed as a fighter pilot and I think I saw George in some kind of lab coat… or maybe it was a doctor?” He laughed to himself.

I headed up to their dorm room to see if they were there, and sure enough I just avoided a head on collision as they walked out.

“Whoa, nearly lost me there!” I screamed, stumbling back with a laugh. “What are you guys doing up here,”

“Nothing,” George spoke quickly.

“How much did you drink, y/n” Fred asked, helping me down the stone steps until we made it safely to the common room.

“Not loads, hey that’s not right.” I frowned at the boy holding me steady. “Oliver said you were dressed as a Pilot Fred, not George.”

“I am George!” The boy, with the aviator sunglasses on, teased. “You’re as bad as mum honestly.”

“Yeah, at least our costumes are legit!” the other teased, flopping the bunny ear that had fallen over one eye away.

“Do you like it?” I spun round, the skirt bouncing around I did.

“It’s an interesting combination,”

“Well you haven’t kicked me out… yet.”

Unbeknownst to y/n’s knowledge, the twins continued to confuse her. Constantly running off to swap costumes, and mess with their friend further. Although it kind of backfired, as the more she drank, the less she trusted herself to tell them apart and gave up altogether. In the end they went back to their original costumes, Fred as the Pilot and George the bloody doctor. They both decided to tell y/n the next morning, when she could at least have a chance of understanding.

Everyone else was in bed, except for the twins and I who sat up singing by the fire and sharing the last bottle of gin that I could find in my stash.

“I’m gonna have to stock up my stash at christmas,” I laughed as the last swig was taken and we fell into each other's shoulders. I slumped between them, laughing at the memory of Ron and Hermione’s perfect dance routine to livin’ la vida loca earlier that night.

I felt a lump in my jacket pocket and remembered that’s where I’d left my cigarettes since being at home. I stood up, startling the boys and declared what I was leaving to do.

“I’m off for a smoke, see you in a bit.” They shook awake.

“Wait y/n, you can’t smoke here rememb- oh god she’s gone.”

“Well go on then George, stop her!” Fred grumbled to his brother, having already drifted back off to sleep.

George ran down the staircase, being careful not to make too much noise as his doctor’s coat flew behind him. He had only been a few seconds behind y/n, how could she have disappeared already? Still, he headed for the black lake, knowing that was her favourite spot to go when she wanted to be alone. He had watched her there many times, far away enough that she had never spotted him though.

“Y/n!” He whisper-shouted, running down the bank towards her. She was already sat down, the lighter in one hand and a cigarette balanced between her lips.

“What are you doing Fred?” she asked, mistaking him for the other twin.

“Oh about th-”

“At least it’s you and not George,”

The boy felt hurt by her words, always having looked after her without her knowing. Most of the time the lack of retaliation from the twins in their prank war was because George would sabotage it. He always felt guilty playing tricks on y/n.

“Why’s that?” He asked, playing along with what she believed to find out the truth.

The girl lit her cigarette regardless of his warning, and puffed out a breath of smoke offering it to the boy beside her who reluctantly agreed. Knowing that if his mother could see him now, she would have a heart attack.

“I always embarrass myself in front of George,” y/n admitted. “Whether it’s being drunk, or making stupid jokes. I just look like an idiot when I’m around him.”

“I don’t think you do,”

“I can’t help it though, it’s different with you. You’re like a brother to me Fred.”

“Actually y/n-” George started, wanting to come clean, but she kept going.

“But George, he’s just more than that you know. He always cares for me and makes sure I’m safe, hell he thinks I don’t notice when he watches me sulk down here.” She laughed lightly to herself, leaning to rest on the boy beside her. “I was so sure I knew him better than anyone else, but obviously not.” Her shoulders dropped in despair.

“Why’s that?”

“He probably just sees me as a friend right? I mean, I couldn’t even tell you two apart tonight, I thought you were him.” She scoffed.

George swallowed, knowing that him admitting to their prank would most likely cause some backlash from the girl. But he bit the bullet.

“I am George.”

Her body froze.

“Don’t joke.” She said flatly.

“I’m not, honestly. It was just supposed to confuse you earlier but I am George.”

Y/n stood up, dropping her cigarette into the water and headed up the hill towards the courtyard. George ran after her again.

“Please y/n wait!” He called out, grabbing her hand to stop her. She spun around, tears running down her face. “Oh god i’m so sorry, I didn’t realise you thought I was him, I just came to check on you.”

“I’m such an idiot god.” she huffed, trying to drag herself away but he wouldn’t let go. “I can’t even tell it’s you when you’re right here,”

“Yes you could y/n, that’s the whole point.”

“Still I just told you how I feel about you, with no intention of actually telling you, yet here we are with you being kind and nice and perfect and I’m just embarrassing myself once again.”

George followed her into the hallway and up the stairs, not wanting to call out until they were clear of the earshot of others. He managed to stop her just before the common room, pulling her aside into a secluded corner.

“Y/n, darling..” she had never heard him call anyone that seriously until now, and she couldn’t help but feel special because of that. “I have never seen you as an idiot, and you have never embarrassed yourself in front of me. In fact, I’ve always thought you were the perfect one.”

“Then why are you only telling me this now?” The girl asked him.

“I always thought you liked Oliver,”

“Wood?” she laughed and he hadn’t heard a sound better “God, he’s way too intense. Even tonight he wanted to talk game strategies with me, it was so boring.”

“Well that’s a relief.”

“So… you’ve always liked me?” She teased him slightly, playing with the seam of his costume. George just rolled his eyes and held her face, making her look up at him. Of course she had stood next to him before, but it was only in this moment that she felt the sheer height gap between them.

He leant down and kissed her lips, still clutching her face as her hands dropped from his coat in shock. He was soft and sincere, holding her as if he’d longed to do so for quite some time. Y/n smiled against George’s lips, making the boy blush to himself and thank Merlin that she couldn’t see him do it.

They broke away after what felt like nowhere near long enough, y/n rested her head into his chest and sighed happily.

“We should get to bed, it’s late.” George whispered and she nodded. “You tired?” y/n nodded again. “Okay darling let’s go.” He took her waist and lifted her off the ground, letting her wrap her legs around him and nestle into his neck.

He passed Fred who was slipping into unconsciousness on the common room sofa.

“Night Fred,” they called to him, and he just groaned back.

“Don’t worry, we can tell him in the morning.”

“George,” the girl in his arms groaned.

“Yesss..”

“Can I stay with you tonight?”

“Of course darling,” George said softly and took the girl up to his dorm so she could sleep comfortably in his arms, her little head tucked between him and the bed. He laughed at the bunny hat discarded on the chair, remembering how sweet she’d looked in it.

Even as a creepy clown George had wanted to kiss her.

#george weasley #george wealsey x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #weasley #weasley twins #fred and goerge weasley #fred weasley #harry potter #y/n #george weasley x reader #the weasleys #the weasley twins

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retirementhomecollab · 3 years

Text

☾ intro + masterlist

☾ warnings: f!reader, mention of alcohol, swearing

☾ word count: 1.3k

You hear the party before you see it.

In fact, you hear it from a good block away before you see it, its heavy bass heartbeat thrumming down the street. You can’t help but think that it's pace is so irregular that it almost sounds like the apartment building itself has a condition.

“You mean cardiac arrhythmia?” Hiromi questions when you make this observation aloud.

“Yeah!” you exclaim, re-adjusting your hat. You aren’t bothered by not knowing this; she’s the physiology major after all. You’re just the blissfully ignorant literature student who occasionally understands phrases like “cell membrane” and “venereal disease”.

She gives you a funny smile, only made funnier by the deep-looking latex scars by her mouth. Going all out, she’d purchased a wide variety of face paint and makeup palettes from the Halloween store and spent most of the afternoon perfecting her look. You had simply sat back and watched, throwing on your witch costume when the time came and letting her turn her attention on you when she was done.

“Do you think people will know what I am?” She frets as you slip through the building door. Someone had propped it open with a milk crate and stuck a little paper ghost on it.

You look her up and down. From the sickly green face paint and artificial scars running across her cheeks it would be evident to anyone that she was a zombie. The tricky part would be the rest of her outfit; a shirt made of some shiny looking material with a belted pleather skirt and a matching cropped jacket. The makeup around her eyes is excessively glittery, and there’s a headset mic hanging down one side of her face.

“I’m a zombie idol,” she had explained when you’d first seen the test run for her costume. It was obvious after she’d explained it to you but you just know she’d be getting confused looks for the rest of the night.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” you lie with a grin as you ascend the stairs. “Now let’s go, undead Jennie Kim. We have some orange jello shots to do.”

The door is ajar as you walk past the landing, music and people spilling across its threshold as you urge Hiromi on. Already, you can spot some people from your lectures; a strawberry blond who slept through most of microeconomics and a girl you’d been partnered with for one chemistry lab.

You both manage to squeeze past the entrance and into the dense, beating heart of the event, illuminated by at least a dozen packs of LED fairy lights. Groups of your peers mill about, fake fangs and shiny capes glinting around the room like passing stars. You think you see someone familiar and are about to call out to them when Hiromi yanks at your wrist, pulling your attention back to her.

“Shit, shit,” she hisses, fiddling with one of her many bracelets as she turns away from one of the corners of the room. You’re about to ask what’s wrong when you spot him from across the room, red solo cup in one hand and his phone in the other.

“Ohh,” you say knowingly, giving her a small smirk. “Funny seeing him here,” you exclaim, your loud voice barely audible over the pounding bass of the music.

You watch with amusement as she runs her fingers through one of her carefully crimped pigtails, her sparkly nails catching in the strands as she attempts to work more volume into them.

“I didn’t know he’d be here,” she moans, narrowly avoiding the elbow of someone dressed like Saitama from One Punch Man.

“But you were hoping,” you tack on pointedly.

“I was hoping,” she sighs admittedly. “I just think he looks so good tonight, don’t you?”

You glance over at her longtime crush and cock your head. In his Halloween store pirate getup, complete with feathered hat and velcroed-on shoulder parrot, you can’t say he’s your type exactly. But the heart wants what the heart wants and what Hiromi’s heart seems to want right now is to talk to dollar store Blackbeard.

You sigh. Who are you to stop her?

“Go,” you say, giving her a light nudge in his direction. Her expression brightens before you catch a flash of hesitance in her eyes.

“But—” she begins, unsure.

“I’ll be fine,” you add reassuringly, trying not to let your apprehension show. True, you’d only come on the condition that she’d be by your side for most, if not all, of the night. But these are extenuating circumstances, and if you don’t let her try to get with the world’s most average looking Captain Hook, then you know you wouldn’t be any kind of best friend at all.

She squeezes her eyes shut, causing the glittery makeup to refract across her eyelids. “I love you,” she finally utters, taking hold of your hand.

“I know,” you grin, feeling the press of her acrylics in your palm as she pulls away. “Just text me when you’re ready to leave or let me know if I’m going home alone.”

“Will do,” she nods, patting the phone in her jacket pocket. You know there’s a chance you won’t get any message but that would be an indication in itself so you aren’t too worried.

“Alright,” you sigh, sending her off with a smile. “Go on and get the Jack Sparrow of your dreams.”

“Thank you,” she says again, adjusting one of her earrings before she heads on her way. You watch as she maneuvers past a posse of Sailor Guardians before making a beeline for her crush. A mixture of relief and pride swells in your chest as you see her make contact, and you grin as you see him lean in, clearly more interested than Hiromi knew (or noticed).

However, your quiet satisfaction is immediately quashed as someone jostles into you from behind. You stumble, nearly toppling into an overloaded coatrack before managing to right yourself against the wall.

“Asshole,” you mumble to yourself as whoever it was slips away without so much as an apology. It’s then that you realize the situation you’re now in; alone and sober at a party you aren’t even sure you want to be at.

During your time here you’d seen at least a couple of people you’ve spoken to, but no one you know well enough to hold onto in this swirling chaos of booze and tacky costumes.

Okay, you think to yourself, patting down the folds of your skirt as you assess your surroundings. You can do this. You can get out there and, maybe with a little beer as social lubrication, have a good time like everyone else.

Glancing towards the kitchen you see two people making out near the pantry, along with another four oblivious farm animals acting like nothing’s going on right next to them.

To your other side is the hallway, the small bathroom door swinging open as its occupant (a vampire) makes a hasty exit. You think you could use the opportunity to freshen up before attempting socialization.

Looking past that, there are two other doors; one of them tightly shut and the other cracked open just a sliver, showing the end of a made bed. You know the rules about being a good houseguest and all, but you can’t help but feel a bit curious.

However, the heart of the party is right before you in the living room. You spot a group of people leaning over some kind of board game, their occasional hollers and shouts drawing your attention.

Past them is the sliding glass door that leads to the balcony. Its inhabitants, plural or otherwise, are obscured from view, thanks to the glare of the room. Despite this, you think fresh air could do you some good.

You decide to: > Go to the closed bedroom. > Go to the open bedroom. > Go to the balcony. > Go to the kitchen. > Go to the hallway. > Go to the bathroom. > Go to the living room.

#flashing cw #epilepsy tw #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #the witching hour

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mythicandco · 3 years

Text

I have 1% Battery Left And I’m Wasting it on This

A.K.A. Philip B. Wittebane (in which the “B” stands for “Belos”)

Warning: More than 90% of this is pure headcanoning and theorizing, based on the evidence that’s arisen and the ideas of many other members of the fandom. This theory has been circling the Owl House fandom for months, I DID NOT ORIGINALLY CREATE IT. Brooke and North are from this and so is some of the story, but the majority of the details are the work of my own convoluted brain. This was kinda disproved by Yesterday’s Lie but I want to post it before my computer dies. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this summarized monstrosity…

Everything is once again below the cut

Philip stumbles into the Boiling Isles by complete accident while on a hike through the woods, tripping into a rift in the fabric of space-time created by Titan’s blood interacting with other various magical substances. He doesn’t realize he’s in another realm until he actually stops to look around, and is startled to come face-to-face with a trio of witches.

The first witch, Brooke, is taller than their companions, with a big ol’ witchy hat and a pair of grey, tasseled earrings. North, only slightly shorter than Brooke, has a similar hat along with a matching cloak and blonde, curled hair. Her face is covered in scars. The last witch is Kirani, who ends up being a minor character but eh.

The trio is here to collect Titan’s blood for Brooke’s experiments with magic. They believe that by using their knowledge of potions, they can create an elixir of some form to allow witches to perform magic without the use of glyphs. The exact recipe is a work in progress, but they know that Titan’s blood will be a key ingredient.

When the group first encounters Philip, they are startled by his small, round ears. The bemused human assures them he means no harm and eventually they decide that even if he does want to hurt them, he doesn’t have access to the magical knowledge to do so. This is further proven when a dragon nearly eats Philip (more on that later). They take him to their village to help him find a way home and survive until then.

Over the next five or so years the group spends a lot of time together, Philip begins writing a journal, and North, Brooke and Philip form a friendship, often going on adventures together with the help of their palismans. North even trusts Philip enough to let him use her staff for transportation until he eventually gets the chance to carve his own. During this time Philip also learns a lot about glyph magic and the creatures of the Boiling Isles, and is surprised at how naturally it comes for him to draw the glyphs from memory and get them right.

At one point Philip and the others travel to the Knee to retrieve some Titan’s blood from Eclipse Lake. Brooke stays behind to start collecting the other, more local ingredients to their spell, and North is forced to stay behind due to injuries sustained after fighting off a swarm of small, dragon-like creatures.

The expedition is a disaster, and after mistaking fool’s blood for Titan’s blood, Philip is the only one who makes it out alive following the cave-in. Philip is horrified at this turn of events but simultaneously relieved that Brooke and North didn’t accompany him on this particular mission. He comes back with the Titan’s blood, but not the rest of the group, and has to explain what happened.

The village begins spreading rumors that he killed them to take the blood for himself, or that he is too incompetent to continue leading these expeditions. Brooke and North also get a share of the blame, being the ones who brought the human to their village in the first place. Brooke retreats to their study for a few weeks, taking the Titan’s blood with them.

Things get even worse after the Titan’s blood excursion and the neighboring witch tribes hear about the dangerous human who supposedly kills witches and other creatures in cold blood for his own gain. (Rumors are nasty things, slightly more terrifying the longer they’re out there.) Philip finds it almost ironic that in this world of freaks and monsters, he’s the target of the torches and pitchforks.

While out trading at a small market shared by a couple of the tribes, North is confronted by the leader of another clan and accused of betraying her kind. Things escalate quickly and she barely gets out without things coming to blows.

Philip starts worrying that he is becoming a burden and a danger to the others, not because he actually wants to hurt them, but because they will get in trouble for sheltering him. He offers to help out Brooke with the portal, which is nearly finished. While they are distracted, he pockets some of the Titan’s blood and some other magical supplies from when Brooke was experimenting with improving a witch’s ability to perform magic.

Philip uses the potion on himself, but because he is human, not a witch or demon, and isn’t connected to the Titan, he can only use magic by taking it from another source. He starts off using various plants and the horns and tusks of the creatures the village usually uses for jewelry or tosses aside after, I dunno, making a pie with it or something, and practices using spell circles in secret, making sure he can defend himself and the others should the need arise.

Soon he discovers that he needs more and more magic to stay powerful - to stay stable - and slips up in front of Brooke, losing control for less than a moment before using a spare flower he’d been keeping in his back pocket as a gift for North.

Brooke, understandably, is freaked out by what the fuck just happened and Philip begs for them to keep it a secret. He admits that he stole some of Brooke’s concoctions so that he could protect himself from the witches of the other tribes, and that he needs a reliable source of energy to continue using magic. Brooke argues that what he’s doing is dangerous and unnatural, and that a human shouldn’t be able to use magic the way he does.

Philip is furious, yelling at Brooke for hogging all of the magic for themselves. He says that where he comes from, witches were supposed to be burned at the stake or drowned. Brooke, horrified, backs away. Philip realizes he’s gone too far and flees back to the home he and the witches constructed when he first arrived in the Boiling Isles.

His state continues to worsen, and eventually he is driven to snap his own palisman in order to consume its essence. With horrified awe, Philip discovers palismen hold far more magical energy than the little table scraps he’d been collecting before. He is able to briefly rejoin the rest of the tribe, but Brooke doesn’t speak to him and he keeps thinking about his broken palisman.

A few days later Brooke finally finishes the portal and gives Philip the key. The human doesn’t get the chance to test out the door before one of the rival tribes attacks the village out of nowhere and Philip joins in defending the people he’s spent years with. North is stunned that he can weave magic without the use of glyphs, but she doesn’t have the time to consult Brooke on where the human gained this new ability.

At some point Philip corners the leader of the rival clan and nearly kills her, running out of magic just before the final blow is dealt. He reaches for the nearest source of power - North’s palisman - and snaps it in half.

For a few moments, North and Brooke process what just happened amidst the chaos. Then the fighting stops and everyone watches as Philip finishes consuming the palisman’s essence.

Philip looks up with glowing eyes and pauses, confused at everyone’s expressions. The fighting picks back up, this time directed at him, and someone throws a spear straight through his chest. It goes in one side and comes out the other, but the human(?) remains unharmed. The witches and demons start freaking the fuck out, because wouldn’t you in this situation?

Finally registering what he’s done, a horrified Philip backs away and makes a break for the trees. He never sees Brooke or North again.

In a clearing in the woods, Philip summons the door to the Human Realm but doesn’t have the courage to step through. He realizes that he is no better than the other monsters of the Demon Realm. He’d probably be shunned if he went home. Would anyone even recognize what he’d become? He once again briefly loses control of himself before giving up and throwing the key to the portal into the trees as hard as he can, before disappearing into the foliage himself.

North burns everything Philip touched, his books, home, everything in her fit of anger over the loss of her palisman and one of her best friends (or maybe something more). She is furious with Brooke for not telling her about him sooner and the two witches engage in an argument. Afterwards, Brooke discovers the journal Philip was going to donate to the market library, the one with all of his recorded notes and diagrams about the fantastical horror of the Demon Realm, and instead of burning it, donates it in their lost friend’s name.

A few centuries go by and Philip Wittebane’s name is practically lost to time, save for the journal that still resides in the almost-constantly growing library in what is now Bonesborough.

A powerful, controlling figure arises, claiming he alone can communicate with the Titan, and that the wild magic used by witches is wrong. Emperor Belos unites the witches of the Boiling Isles under the Coven system, ascending the throne and becoming the most powerful being (both physically and politically) on the Boiling Isles.

The rest, as they say, is history.

#the owl house spoilers #made before yesterday's lie #help my computer is dying

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boop-le-snoot · 3 years

Text

masterpost • main masterlist • taglist & faq

previously on...

Chapter 3 is finally here. Sorcerers need their shopping done, too. Beyonce/Wong platonic ship (joking)! And finally some action, more witchy stuff. Bucky whump because I have a saviour complex. Stucky cuteness moment. Some blood/gore in this chapter.

My insides clenched, seeing the yellow and blue notice taped to my door - the building manager rarely left notes, so whatever it was, it wasn't going to be good. I had managed to wind myself up into an anxious frenzy by the time I had gone inside and locked my door behind me, immediately thinking I would have to exhaust myself by turning to magic to keep a roof over my head.

For once, the news turned out to be positive: a neighbor was being evicted and turned in to the police for stealing packages. The building manager urged the tenants to report any missing items and apply for a refund when possible, apologizing for the inconvenience. I wondered what prompted this, basically unheard of in NYC, act of kindness as my altar stared at me with mocking amusement, pointing out the obvious by its mere presence.

Grinning to myself, I texted Odette - predictably, she was happy for me, happy that my protection spell had turned out strong and steady, and added a few tips of her own for my spell to stay that way. It felt like I'd grown invisible wings, those days, with all the possibilities open - and never once did I let myself entertain a thought of getting back at an enemy of the past for longer than five seconds.

Sure, it was perfectly human to consider making the cheating ex go bankrupt or make sure the college professor, that failed a couple of students each semester as a 'reality check', trips and face-plants at least once a day... I mean, who wouldn't experience a malicious sort of joy from petty revenge?

But I found my powers were best applied with a positive result in mind. My friend's cat was the first test rat- I mean, living creature I had practiced my healing spells on. The eleven year old kitty was struggling and both me and my friend loved the critter dearly - so the short, but tiring spell I performed yielded exactly the results I was expecting. Odette said something about genuine love backing up the magic, and- well, Dumbledore much?

On humans, it turned out, it wasn't nearly as simple. I didn't know what I had expected would happen after performing nothing short of a whole improv-performace type of ritual right in front of my very puzzled but hopeful friend with chronic asthma, but it wasn't the sheer exhaustion that ran bone-deep and left me bedridden for a whole day.

Odette visited my dingy apartment with her signature enormous purse full of vials she spoon-fed me and trinkets she strategically placed in and around my immediate sleeping area. "There, there," the woman patted my head as I pitifully moaned at the ear-splitting headache. "The first one is always the most challenging. After all, if it would be easy, everyone would do it."

I understood that. But at the same time, it felt unfair that no good deed went unpunished. I told Odette so, raising my voice to the best of my ability as she rummaged around my kitchen.

"Nothing in this world comes out of thin air, whatever you decide to give has to be taken from somewhere," she explained patiently. "People like us are considered hedge witches. We do solitary work and draw most of our energy from the Earth, from mother Nature. We cannot perform miracles, however, the cost of our spells are very low," I felt an immediate peak of interest at the simple yet effective explaination she gave me. "We remain mostly human. Gaia* is kind and generous to the ones who pay respect," Odette continued over the clatter of pans and pots. "There are other kinds of witches - who take from other people, who take from the dead. But taking something by force always leaves scars and taking something from the dead means bringing a piece of them back to places it should not be."

I pondered the words as Odette brought the kettle to a boil, the whistling shriek piercing through my skull like a sharp projectile. "What about Voodoo practitioners?" I couldn't hold back my curiosity.

Odette cleared her throat. "What is left of them is mostly not human. Their gifts are great but the costs are greater. They can live far, far longer than the average witch but their souls will know no peace, just like the souls of the dead they anchor to themselves over time," Odette entered the room with a bowl of tangy, creamy liquid that smelled like pumpkin soup. "We do not bestow any judgement upon our brothers and sisters but it is our duty to inform the young." She cast a pointed glance towards me, passing me the soup and a wooden spoon I didn't know I had. "This should help you recover. Take tomorrow off if needs be."

She left shortly afterwards and I hadn't much strength than to use the bathroom, wash the rune-engraved spoon and curl up in my bed, only waking up when the meager light shone over my face from the window. Sleepy and fog-tinted, the early morning NYC was damp and windy as I stuck my head out of the window to soak my sleep-heated head in the cool air.

As uneventful as the day at the café was, I still wasn't up to 100% energy-wise, but the long walk from Jeremy's to Odette's was pleasantly invigorating. I didn't find the cold autumn moisture displeasing; the small raindrops kept me awake and alert. Odette nodded in muted pleasure as I clocked in and returned the special spoon back to her. The runes on it were interesting; I had taken a picture of them for research purposes, fully intending to craft myself something similar.

"Odette has taken on an apprentice," Wong's voice had me take in several deep breaths in preparation for the inevitable fuck-fest on my patience. "She has been avoiding me. And the girl is painfully slow."

I didn't hear the answer of Wong's companion over the rustling of the boxes I was hastily shoving in their places before the Asian man's temper grew foul. More foul. Ugh. The sharp ding of the bell had me yelling a, "Just a second please, I'll be right with you," while trying to keep my tone polite.

Wong's sour face and a list of items required greeted me as I flew out of the backrooms, noticing the locked doors of Odette's office on my way out. Wong's companion stood at the far end of the store - his robes quite different from the ones I'd seen people of their kind wear, his lithe, tall figure seeming strangely familiar. I squinted my eyes at his back. "Is this all you need?" I waved the list around, increasing the volume of my voice.

The tall man turned around and I could only gape. He, in turn, also froze, the stern, unfriendly expression losing heat and giving way to perplexed wonder. "I had placed an order, for sorcerer Strange," Tony's boyfriend eyed me somewhat sheepishly under Wong's concerned gaze.

I nodded, eyeing Wong in turn, letting satisfaction nestle a warm ball in my chest. Stephen's look of displeasure had turned onto his... Colleague. By the time I finished retrieving Strange's order and packing up the items on Wong's list, the Asian man had left, leaving Stephen to sheepishly pretend to examine the books on the furthest shelf. I waved the paper bags as he took long strides towards me, his fancy, large necklace glimmering under the lights.

"So, how long have you been working here?" Sorcerer Strange asked after I told him the total.

The cash register beeped loudly, coins clattering on the desk as I counted out his change. "Some time now," I shrugged noncommittally. I felt his magnetic eyes gloss over my adornments, the star necklace, the various rings; I could practically feel him coming to his own conclusions. "Long enough for your colleague to get an attitude with me," I had to make sure he knew I would be taking no bullshit from him - or anyone else, for that matter. Odette's opinion on his kind was firm and I was heavily inclined to agree.

"Hmm, I see," Strange was equally as keen on hiding his curiosity. It was a funny thing, really, that we, being adults that we were, treated this encounter like some sort of a dirty secret. "Don't take it personally. Wong is like that with everyone," The man briefly scratched his beard with a gloved hand before pocketing his change and picking up the bags. "Except Beyoncè, maybe," the wink he threw me was positively mischievous as it caught me off-guard, giving him a fox-like appearance.

I sighed as the door shut behind him. Pretty white boys - the ultimate human disasters.

I had no time to dwell on them, however, as something - or someone, hit downtown with all the malicious intentions to wreak havoc on the innocent civilians calmly going about their day. Mutants and people who knew Odette came in hordes, scrapes and bruises and strange wounds that required imminent healing.

My boss was no rookie, she dutifully accepted each and every single soul, looking worse for wear with each minute. Not being able to withstand seeing her drain herself, I simply took over the simplest tasks - and she said nothing, just gave me a nod, instructed to use whatever I needed and write it down somewhere along with the name of the person who required the healing.

As the battle raged, the crowds thinned but the ones who managed to come to Odette's spouted more serious wounds, obviously a result of them fighting back. Mutants covered head to toe with coats and hats and robes, for me to swallow my shock when they undressed - horns, tails and weird skin textures were on the far end of the normal. I dutifully extracted small pieces of information from each and every person I treated.

Yes, the Avengers were winning. No, there aren't many people hurt, most of the damage is cosmetic. Yes, the villain of the week is as stupid as usual. It was like a mantra. Odette poked her head into the spare room every now and then, her eagle eyes briefly scanning over me to make sure I wasn't exterting myself.

As I applied the healing salve to a tiny, pink-skinned woman, bandaging up her hands, my boss entered and closed the door behind her, setting down on the creaky chair with a loud thud. "Just got the news, the Avengers apprehended the terrorist," she sighed long and slow. "We've done all we could, the next few days I'll be handling house calls so you'll be here on your own. I'll probably see you in a few days, don't hesitate to give me a call if something comes up," Odette seemed to be barely standing up, yet when she tore off a few pieces of her jewelry and chucked them into a big tin can under the sink, the glossy sheen in her eyes melted away.

"Okay," I mumbled under the watchful eyes of the mutant woman. "Will there be more people coming in today?"

"No," the woman in front of me snorted. "SHIELD is prowling the streets. They are not fond of us, they always say we intervene unnecessarily even though we willingly do their dirty work so our children could be safe," the bitter, harsh tone took me off-guard.

I had to admit, there was reason behind her words. "Will you be able to get home safely? I have a puffy coat and a hat you can borrow." Figuring an expensive taxi ride would be a better alternative to something terrible happening to the woman, I offered her my winter clothes.

She smiled at me, razor blade teeth and large, red eyes the kindest I'd ever seen on a person. In the end, she took the clothes, promising to bring them back in a few days and Odette gave me a parka that was too small for her frame - despite it smelling like someone's grandma's attic, I found it to be quite lovely vintage. The puffy knitted scarf she added felt like warmth and safety - she had to have knitted it herself, for I knew, handmade items carried a significant amount of energy in them.

The shop was eerily quiet as I cleaned and scrubbed the stained, dirty floors and disposed of the bloody clothes and bandages in the tiny, odd fireplace in Odette's office - that was a thing most peculiar, it burned everything I put in it, but had no chimney, no place for the smoke to exit. Magic.

Something banged loudly against the entrance door. I let out a startled shriek, broomstick falling out of my hand and adding to the sudden cacophony of noise as the figure behind the stained glass slowly slid down the door, a deep, male voice groaning something incomprehensible loud enough for me to hear.

Grabbing a large serrated knife we used for mincing the bones of small animals, I made quiet steps towards the door, seeing a large, obviously humanoid figure helplessly lean on the door. The man's arm glinted chrome black and gunmetal grey in the low light. "Sargent Barnes? Bucky?" I whisper-shouted, carefully plying open the door.

He lifted his head, blood dripping down from it, his face looked like someone went to town on it with a meat mullet, his eyes were unfocused and couldn't keep a straight line. His flesh arm leaned heavily on the door frame, the prosthetic hanging limply, dragging his whole body to its side. It must've weigh a ton.

"Я должен найти капитана Роджерса," he whispered.

I didn't understand Russian at all but I could make out the name of his boyfriend. Which made sense. Bucky looked severely concussed - I idly wondered what exactly they had been fighting, what could have given a freaking super-soldier such a brain-leaking injury. "Sargent Barnes, follow me," I put on my big girl shoes and used my momma bear voice, towing the man behind me.

He, too, weighed a ton, as I stumbled, helping him into the chair in the spare room that became my healing station for today. The longer I looked at Bucky, the less lucid he grew, eyes falling shut as he murmured something in jagged Russian, slurring his words.

There was no time to think about the consequences of exposure of my witchcraft; mortar and pestle, herbs and salves flying everywhere, I assembled a healing spell and memorized the according ritual in what felt like record time. He was bleeding all over the chair, fresh crimson blood pouring out of his nose and mouth and it was all I could see.

I hadn't known true terror until the blood that poured out turned black. Whatever it was in him, it was poisonous - my protection charms grew hot, scalding as they left marks on my skin; powering through the pain and unable to turn my eyes off the convulsing Barnes, I finished the chant just as the flow of vile, tar-like liquid suddenly ceased. It pooled around his feet, dripped down the armrests and matted his long hair. It reeked, too, of copper and putrid meat.

Bucky had passed out somewhere mid-spell, the slow, steady breathing bringing me my own sense of calm. To say that I was drained would be an understatement - my vision swam and my world spun on it's axis as I unlocked Odette's office to messily rummage through a cabinet for the emergency tonic I knew she kept there. I chugged the vial, an avalanche of almost anxious, jittery energy hit me like a freight train - exactly what I needed.

I bought myself a couple hours of time. Cleaning up the sludge around Bucky's feet and removing the outer parts of his gear was easy as he remained as relaxed as a cooked spaghetti noodle. The amount of weapons he had on him was impressive, but those weren't what I was looking for - his phone. It was dead, so I plugged it in, waiting for the 5% to show and bringing it to his fingertips, hoping he used the print recognition instead of the password option... And I lucked out.

"Hello, this is Star, I found a Bucky. Tell Dr. Strange to come get him, he knows where I am." I texted the "Stevie ❤️" contact, my inner fangirl self squealing at the dorky name of his boyfriend's contact in Bucky's phone. Shortly afterwards, I went ahead and snapped a picture of myself next to sleeping Bucky, figuring out some actual proof wouldn't do any harm in this bizarre situation.

The answer didn't let me wait long. "10 minutes" came the first text, and shortly afterwards - "Is Bucky okay??????". I had to snort at the amount of question marks before honestly replying "He will be ☺️" and putting the phone back in Bucky's pocket. I cleaned up and attempted to lift Bucky up, succeeding in waking him up into a half-lucid state, probably courtesy of decades of training and whatnot, to at least drag him to the front of the store. I wasn't particularly comfortable with strangers seeing the backrooms.

Bucky leaned with his back against the counter, ass flat on the floor and a towel with a cold compress pressed to his head when the doors all but flew open, revealing Captain Rogers, still in uniform and Stephen Strange, arguing with his boyfriend, both still suited up and bloody and grimy.

"Uhh," I blinked owlishly, causing the men to stop bickering and stare first at me, then at Bucky. "I think he hit his head," I offered weakly, backing up slightly at the amount of burning eyes staring at me.

"Shortcake, that you?" Tony's eyebrows rose as he surveyed the bodega, the items on the shelves, the black and red blood stains on my previously pristine, yellow shirt.

"Now is not the time, Tony. Go with Rogers, make sure the medical is prepared for Barnes and disable his arm," Strange barked out authoritatively, shooting me a puzzled but compassionate look. "The portal is open. I'll talk to Star, find out what happened." He advanced towards me as Captain picked up Bucky bridal-style as tenderly as he could while making sure the compress stayed on.

"Keep that tone fo the bedroom," Tony's voice was more than displeased as he shot me and Strange a hurt look, but followed Steve into the golden circle right outside the door before it sparked shut.

"Now, now, what happened here?" The sorcerer's voice lowered into a soothing drawl as I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding. My shoulders sagged, fingers twitching with anxious energy. The man extended a gloved hand, briefly squeezing my shoulder. "It's alright, take your time."

Damn, did I look that bad?

Taglist: @couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites

#bun writes #practical alchemy #tony stark x reader x stephen strange #tony stark x reader #Stephen Strange x reader

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quazartranslates · 3 years

Text

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH8

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

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Chapter 8: Resurrection Overture (VIII)

When Qi Leren arrived at Chen Baiqi's store, it was 20 minutes earlier than the appointed time. Chen Baiqi was chatting with a woman with her back to him. They both looked at Qi Leren in the doorway, and Qi Leren also looked at the woman.　

That person was a very gorgeous and charming beauty, wearing a gorgeous and complicated low-cut witch's dress and a European top hat. Although her whole person was dressed in dark colours, it made her skin more white, and her bright red lipstick and smokey eye makeup were particularly attractive. When he noticed this, Qi Leren first reviewed why he noticed his sister's makeup at first sight... Was it really a matter of sexual orientation?

"Since you have a guest, I'll take a walk first. I'm tired from the task I just finished. Let's talk about it another day." The beautiful woman smiled at Qi Leren, picked up the women's walking stick at the table, and walked out of Chen Baiqi's shop gracefully.

"Who was that?" Qi Leren asked.

"The Illusionist," Chen Baiqi said.

Qi Leren suddenly remembered that the Court’s Miao Li had mentioned during his dream lessons that the Illusionist had helped cover up his tombstones on the Undead Island in order to hide them from the Slaughter Secret Society. Was it that beautiful woman just now?

"Have you had breakfast?" Chen Baiqi asked him.

Qi Leren nodded: "I’m full."

Chen Baiqi smiled meaningfully: "Don't eat too much next time, lest you throw up."

"..." Qi Leren felt that his future was grim.

"Although we’ve known each other for some time, I’ve never introduced myself properly. Since you will train with me from today, I will introduce myself again. Come with me. " Chen Baiqi led Qi Leren inside. Qi Leren had never been to the back part of the store. When he found that there was a basement with several floors, he couldn't help crying deeply for his future self.

"I used to be the executive officer of the Trial’s Heresy Court. I was mainly responsible for executing the Devil worshippers. Later, because of an injury, I could no longer continue such a high-intensity and dangerous job, so I retired early. Now I’m half an insider who does intelligence." The elevator stopped on the third basement floor and Chen Baiqi led Qi Leren out. The third basement floor was as big as a basketball court. The ground was made of concrete, without any obstacles, and it was scary.

Qi Leren wasn’t very surprised. He had always felt that Chen Baiqi was familiar with the Trials Court. It was to be expected that all of the information she had was somehow related to them.

"In the Nightmare World, so many players have explored 'playing methods' about this 'game' for more than 20 years. Today, I will briefly talk about the 'professions'," Chen Baiqi said.

Qi Leren pricked up his ears and listened attentively.

"Players will receive a skill card when they are in the Novice Village. This skill card is not given randomly, and most players will eventually build their own fighting style around this skill card. That is to say, the original skill card has actually selected the appropriate profession for the player. Take your Novice Village as an example: Dr. Lu, who is with you, is obviously a healer, while Xue Yingying is obviously a berserker. As for you, because your basic skill card is very delicate, it's the first time I’ve heard of such a skill card, so it's hard to judge your basic profession. But it doesn't matter. Most of the skill cards that players get in tasks will follow a certain rule. For example, a healer rarely draws a berserker-type skill card when drawing their card. That is to say, the skill cards obtained in the future are actually based on what you receive as your first skill card. They build around this 'profession'."

Qi Leren suddenly realized: so the skill cards he got later, such as "Rain-Day Laundry", "Primary Fighting Skills", and "Devil Etiquette", including the latest one, "Secretly Observing", all emphasized his profession.

—Assassin.

"I only know some of your skill cards, but I can make a rough judgment about you. You’re an assassin." Chen Baiqi folded her arms and looked at him laughingly. "So congratulations, I’m in the same profession. However, even amongst assassins, they will be subdivided into different categories because of their different personality traits and abilities. After all, everyone's skill cards are different. If you trust me, you can tell me your existing skill cards, and I will not disclose it to others."

Qi Leren vaguely felt that Chen Baiqi would sincerely teach him, and that his answer was the key. Of course, he couldn’t say it. Chen Baiqi would still train him, but she would not give everything to him. Chen Baiqi was... Qi Leren's brain flashed. She was looking for a successor!

Yes, Chen Baiqi entered the game very early and she said it had been eight years, which meant that she was an old player with high strength and rich experience, but it also meant that her time wouldn't be much longer.

Chen Baiqi was optimistic about him and willing to teach him, which was only too important for a newcomer who was still groping for his footing shortly after entering the game, and Qi Leren was very grateful. He didn't think Chen Baiqi had any malice towards him. After all, the gap in strength between the two people was right in front of him. If Chen Baiqi wanted to, she could kill him.

After figuring this out, Qi Leren relayed his skill cards and even told her of his items.

Chen Baiqi said, "You are an assassin. You already have basic premonition skills, detection and latent skills, and even half a camouflage skill. Right now, you still lack a skill to escape and strengthen combat effectiveness—Primary Fighting Skills is too low, it takes too long to upgrade past the basic stage. You can sell it after you’ve been trained."

Qi Leren nodded, "I’ve felt an obvious lack in combat effectiveness. I have no effective means of attack, and often I can only take the same route."

This also led to his excessive dependence on S/L Data as his solution.

"Although skill cards are very good and greatly improve newcomers’ survival rate in this world, I don’t advocate relying too much on them. The Nightmare World is a surreal world. There are many things that we can't do in the real world that can be done here. It also has its own power system. If you want to integrate into this power system, relying too much on skill cards will only hinder you. To put it simply, if you want to become a field-level master, you must quit your skill cards," Chen Baiqi said seriously.

"When you say the power system, you mean the Devils and the Holy See?" Qi Leren asked.

"Yes. With our status as players, if you want to reach the field level, you’re bound to become close to one of them. Because you’ve been parasitized by Slaughter before, I originally thought that your attributes were more inclined to the Devils, but now it seems that maybe you’re more inclined to the side of divine power," Chen Baiqi said.

"How do you see it?" Qi Leren was puzzled.

Chen Baiqi's mouth crooked and she closed her eyes. When she opened them again, they were already a pair of red eyes: "The holiness of your body has exceeded the standard. Maria gave you an important gift before she sent you back."

Qi Leren recalled the warm and comfortable feeling when the dotted light of endless faith had poured into his body, and nodded silently.

"In fact, in addition to these two power systems, there are many magical powers in the Nightmare World. For example, I seldom use investigation skill cards because I once learned the language of birds from an elder. Although I’m not very proficient, I have no problem with basic dialogue. You can imagine how desperate it is to meet me in a wild jungle. This is better than the ability of any reconnaissance skill card. After all, there is no cooldown."

Qi Leren imagined that if he had met such an opponent in the forest during the Witchcraft Sacrifice mission... The birds in the whole forest were her eyes. She could observe every enemy 24/7 without cooldown, avoid any danger she wanted to bypass, and set traps to deal with anyone she wanted to deal with. This was simply terrible.

"Well, with this said, I’ll now begin to test your abilities, including your physical quality, judgment, intuition, and so on. I’ll test your intuition first. If you want to be a good assassin, you can't do without phenomenal intuition. You stand there blindfolded, this won’t take more than a minute," Chen Baiqi commanded.

Qi Leren obediently went to the place she indicated and took the red cloth she handed him, tying it over his eyes. Suddenly, there was only a suppressed scarlet: "How do we test it?"

Chen Baiqi's voice floated from in front of him: "It's very simple. I'll throw some knives at you. You can dodge them with your intuition. I won't tell you when I throw them."

???

! ! !

This wasn’t a test, it was a threat on his life!

"Put away Rain-Day Laundry and only use S/L Data, or else you’ll really die," Chen Baiqi said with ease and pleasure.

"The Prophet told me to use it less," Qi Leren protested weakly.

"Oh, then you don't have to. I’ll try not to aim at anything vital," Chen Baiqi said.

"...Forget it, I'll use it." Qi Leren surrendered and thought he would use it just this once.

S/L Data was activated and the current position was set as the save point. Qi Leren looked at the red before his eyes and his heart beat fast with nervousness. He counted the seconds for S/L Data in his mind.

30, 29, 28...

Chen Baiqi didn't throw, she was walking—Qi Leren couldn't see her or hear her footsteps, but he had a strong feeling that Chen Baiqi was walking around him... She was on his left... Behind him...

Danger, danger, danger!

Clearly there was no warning, no noise, but Qi Leren's mind had already sounded the alarm. He quickly squatted without thinking and a slight wind flew over his head, cutting off two floating hairs.

"Eh? The response was good." Chen Baiqi's voice came from behind him. It was behind him!

Qi Leren stood up and continued to count the seconds: seventeen, sixteen, fifteen...

Under your feet!

Qi Leren suddenly jumped up, and the throwing knife shot obliquely downward and struck the ground with a tang.

Even though he wasn’t hit, Qi Leren still felt a dull pain in his feet, probably from jumping too fast and cramping.

"You’re really good." This time the voice came from above his head!

Qi Leren flung himself forward and rolled on the ground for three or four meters. There was a continuous sound of breathing behind him. Obviously, several throwing knives stabbed one after another—into the concrete ground, and he stopped breathing from nerves. In such a dark place, he directly evaded the ubiquitous fatal danger that made him feel on the verge of a breakdown.

When he stood up again, Qi Leren had forgotten to count the seconds and Chen Baiqi's voice came from ahead of himt: "Well, let's stop here for now."

Qi Leren breathed a sigh of relief and his whole person relaxed from his panicked state, stretching out his hand to untie the cloth over his eyes. When the cloth strip was torn off, there was no figure of Chen Baiqi in front of him—only a parrot standing on the ground and talking with Chen Baiqi's voice, which laughed at him: "Fool."

Qi Leren stood stiffly and a cold wind struck into his torso from behind, the knife piercing his heart. After 30 seconds, S/L Data successfully read the file.

The real Chen Baiqi came from behind Qi Leren with a cheerful demeanor: "This is the first lesson for you: never let off your guard down too early in the face of danger."

-----

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#Welcome to the Nightmare Game #欢迎来到噩梦游戏 #danmei

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eirist · 3 years

Text

Chance Encounter

1: PROLOGUE

Disclaimer: One Piece (and its characters) belongs to Eiichiro Oda-sensei.

Reminder: I have no beta-reader. Any grammatical and spelling errors are solely mine.

Warning: OOC possible.

Rating: T

Note: I’m going to deviate from my usual fluffy stuff. I was browsing my draft collection, because there is a lot of pending write-ups and this one’s been there for far too long… since 2017 to be exact. Procrastinate much.

This was originally planned as a two-chaptered fic. And I’m hoping I stick to that.

Summary: There was a weird sensation pulling at her midriff; followed by a loud, sucking sound before she was suddenly plunged into darkness.

“Watch out!”

The shrill sound of Usopp screaming reached her ears. Nami watched, horrified, as each of her nakama evaded the eerie, almost dark purplish light that was heading towards them.

She stood, rooted on the spot. Her body failing to move even as her brain kept commanding it to shift out of the way or she’s going to take a direct hit.

Her brown-colored orbs widened with the realization that she’s not going to make it in time. Her hands tightened their grip on her weapon as the light advanced towards to her.

She heard Luffy’s voice shouting her name, as well as the wailing cry of their cook calling out for her. She didn’t understand why in that split second before the light hit her, her senses seemed to have become acute.

There was Robin’s loud gasp, Chopper bursting into tears, Franky screaming ‘strong right’ and Brook yelling Yahazu Giri.

Her ears picked up the sound of someone running towards her. Her eyes tried to search for the source of the sound. Somehow in the back of her mind, she already knew who was responsible for it.

She stared haplessly as Zoro tried to reach her in time to save her from the damning light. His face was taut with concentration as he tried to move faster towards her.

“Nami!” He shouted, one sword-less hand stretching out to her.

Surprisingly, she was able to lift her own towards him.

“Zoro…” she whispered his name, vainly trying to reach out to him.

But he was too late.

The light hit her. It enveloped her whole body, her whole being—warm and unexpectedly soothing.

There was a weird sensation pulling at her midriff; followed by a loud, sucking sound before she was suddenly plunged into darkness.

The Straw Hat pirates stared, aghast, as their orange-haired navigator suddenly disappeared right before their very eyes.

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

It was Monkey D. Luffy’s idea, as usual, to explore the unknown island where they just dropped anchor.

After two weeks of nothing but the ocean in their sight, the exuberant captain was at the end of his expectedly short rope to have his ‘land adventure time’—much to the chagrin of everyone who knows that Luffy’s so-called adventures usually ends with all of them knee-deep in trouble.

After the kaizoku bento was distributed, the crew separated into groups: one to survey the island, one to look for the town and restock their supplies and one to stop Luffy’s idiocy from rampaging. Brook volunteered to guard the ship and Sanji promised to relieve him once he’s able to get some food shopping done.

All’s well until the survey and babysitter groups ran into some weird, crazy guy who has the strange ability to make anyone or anything disappear. How Luffy came across the downright creepy fellow while exploring the mountain’s forest… no one can answer. After all, said captain has an unusual knack for attracting trouble everywhere he goes.

It was a good thing though that for such a rather powerful ability, their enemy seems to be truly unaware of its true potential. For he was just randomly flinging purplish circle of lights, screaming that they leave him alone or he’ll make them all disappear with his power.

Usopp concluded that it was probably because the guy’s got too many loose screws in his head. After all, he was living hermetically in an isolated cave on top of the island’s mountain.

The others, sensing that something was amiss when both groups failed to return to the Sunny after a few hours and seeing the tell-tale signs of a battle going on up in the mountains made their way to the skirmish.

It should’ve been an easy battle, but someone had to deliberately irritate the hell more out of the enemy by dousing him with seawater.

Much to the crew’s amazement, the only effect of the water was to vex their opponent more as he hurled much larger circle of lights at them. This was not a devil fruit user as they had originally believed.

A surprised gasp came from Robin and she went on to explain that while visiting the town’s library earlier, she read something about an old island legend regarding an accursed man who has the power to make people and things disappear.

“Not a devil fruit Robin-chan?” Sanji asked as he avoided another light aimed at his direction.

Robin shook her head. “Unfortunately, no,” she answered. Behind her, Usopp and Chopper dove at the same time behind a bush to evade a light whooshing towards them. "And here I thought it was just a legend." The excitement in her voice was evident despite them being under attack.

“So it’s a mystery power!” Luffy exclaimed excitedly, holding onto his hat firmly as he jumped randomly to escape the lights directed at him.

“You can say so, sencho-san” Robin replied smiling. She hid behind a tree as another round light whizzed past her.

“So how do we beat him?” Zoro growled. He launched a Pondo Ho towards one of the lights. Both his slash and the light dissipated out of thin air. He sidestepped to elude another and promptly collided with the navigator.

“Zoro!” Nami chastised him frowning. “Watch where you’re going!”

“Well don’t just stand there like tree woman!”

“Marimo!” Sanji screamed at him. “How dare you hit Nami-swan!”

“Uruse ero-cook!”

“Shitty swordsman!” The cook seethed.

“I can’t believe you’re getting lost even here.” Nami snapped, fighting the urge to bonk his thick head with her Clima-tact. She roughly pulled at his green coat just as another light flew past the swordsman’s left side.

“Thanks but no thanks witch,” the green-haired lad scowled at her.

“Hey I just saved you! Gratitude please!” Nami retorted. Another light soared towards them and Zoro wasted no time in grabbing her around the waist and pulling her behind a tree.

“Now we’re even.” He muttered condescendingly as they hid behind the trunk. Nami huffed in response and they watched as Franky leaped at the bushes beside them, hollering ‘super’ as he dodged an attack sent towards him.

“Ok this is getting way too long!” Sanji complained.

“Took the words right out of my mouth, swirly!” Zoro sneered, drawing out another katana. Nami backed away from him as the he stepped out of their hiding place.

“Did not, baka kenshin!” The cook yelled back.

“Usopp,” Nami called the long-nosed sniper. “Long-range attacks!”

Usopp nodded. With their enemy’s ability, it poses a much lesser risk to hit him with flying attacks rather than meet him head on.

“Luffy, Sanji-kun!” Nami warned both the cook and the captain not to attack the enemy.

“Hai, Nami-swaaan!”

“But Namiiii…” Their captain childishly protested. Bored from jumping too much, he landed beside the navigator with a pout.

Nami pulled his ear. “Baka! What are you going to do if you get hit with that light and you disappear?!”

“Let the others attack him first Luffy,” Robin said, appearing behind them suddenly. Crossing her arms in front of her, she said, “Franky!”

“Aaww!” Franky, who felt hands pushing him up, jumped from the bushes where he landed earlier, striking a super pose to indicate the he's a-ok.

“Brook!” Sanji bellowed, not seeing the skeleton anywhere near the vicinity.

“Right here Sanji-san,” Brook answered, way up on one of the trees near them.

“Damn it you idiot where you hiding there all the time?!”

“Yohohohoho!”

“Chopper where are you?!” Nami looked around hoping the doctor did not get hit by those troublesome light their enemy was bombarding them.

“Here Nami!” The little reindeer raised a hoof; hopping down from where was currently perched atop of Usopp’s head. He hopped down to stand beside the sniper.

With all the Mugiwara crew accounted for. It was time for a counter-attack.

“Weapons left!” Franky hollered just as Usopp simultaneously released one of his Kabuto bombs.

“Zoro!” Nami yelled.

“Way ahead of you woman!” The swordsman answered, placing Wado Ichimonji between his teeth. He released a much powerful version of his previous Pondo Ho.

The concurrent attack hit their enemy head on. There was an explosion and an ear-piercing scream of pain as smoke filled the spot where the man was standing.

Usopp winced. “Ooops. I think we overdid it.”

“Super overdid it.” Franky agreed.

Sanji nonchalantly shoved a cigarette into his mouth as he studied the scene. “Yeah you all did.” He muttered with a flick of his lighter. “He’s just a normal human being and you all went all out to attack him.”

“Shut up shit cook,” Zoro snarled at his direction. “Better than just standing there and doing nothing.”

“Say that again shit head!”

“Both of you shut your traps.” Nami immediately stepped between the two men. “Now is not the time for yapping at each other.”

“Tch.”

“Hai Nami-swaaan!”

The others ignored them and continued staring at the still smoke-filled area, waiting.

Out of the blue, another light flew towards their direction, bigger than before.

“Everyone scatter!” Luffy commanded, stretching his arm towards a random tree limb and making a grab for one of the nearest crew member, who unluckily was Usopp.

The crew scattered out instantly. “Heeeelp!” The sharpshooter screeched as he was lifted mid-air.

“Kyaaaah!” Nami shrieked.

“Move! Move! You’ll get hit!” Zoro’s voice reached her ears and she bounded towards her left blindly. She felt his arm grabbed her by the waist, hauling her up and tucking her under his arm. Nami was in too much panic to even care that he was lugging her like a sack of potatoes.

“Nami-swan!” Sanji squawked when he saw the green-haired dumbass carelessly carting off his favorite lady brusquely. “Put her down you boorish, moronic marimo! Nami-swaaaan! Come into my arms so that I can protect you! Ack!” He nearly tripped when he accidentally collided with Brook, who landed beside him, when he tried to dodge the light.

“Ah Sanji-san. You must not lose concentration lest you get hit!” The skeleton reminded him as he swept the cook into his bony arms and effortlessly leapt towards another tree.

“Brook! You shitty skeleton! Put me down!”

“Yohohoho! No.”

“Nami-saaaan!” He yelled again when he and the musician landed safely on a sturdy tree branch.

“Somebody shut him the hell up!” Zoro roared from somewhere down.

“Urusai!” Nami can be heard screeching after. “Can’t you see we are in the middle of battle?!” She, along with Chopper (whom she didn’t see earlier was also tucked under Zoro’s other arm), are hiding with the swordsman behind a thick group of trees. As for Robin and Franky, she failed to see where they took cover.

“LEAVE ME ALONE!” Their enemy was screaming as he continuously launched purplish lights at them. Nami squeezed Chopper towards her, ducking her head lower as the reindeer hugged her back just as forcefully.

“Careful! He is going out of control!” Franky cautioned from afar, exactly where, no one can pinpoint.

Nami heard Zoro made a tch-ing sound as he carefully peered from behind the tree trunk to observe what was happening. From up a random tree Usopp was complaining, “Ouch! Don’t push me! Luffy!”

Then he yelped. The light hit the tree where he and Luffy were. Luckily, the rubber man was able to swing himself to the safety of another but had forgotten to take Usopp with him.

The sharpshooter did not hesitate to dive down the ground before the tree they were at disappeared completely.

Everyone held their breath as Usopp was suddenly rolled towards the refuge of some thick shrubbery by Robin’s bloomed arms.

“Robin!” A sob can be heard from under the foliage. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.”

“Shi shi shi! Sorry Usopp.” Luffy apologized sheepishly as he leapt down to where Usopp was lying prone.

“Temee Luffy! You idiot, you forgot me!”

“Everyone look out!” Robin cautioned as another light surged towards them.

One by one the trees and shrubberies were disappearing as the purple light hit them.

“Damn it!” Zoro suddenly swore when this time it was their hiding place that vanished. He grabbed Nami’s arm, roughly yanking her up.

“Zoro!”

“Move Nami!” He pushed her forward. “Chopper head towards those trees!”

“Hai!” Chopper jumped from Nami’s arms and change to his heavy point. He grabbed the navigator and made a dash towards where Zoro was pointing.

“Chopper! You could’ve change into your walk point!” Nami protested.

“Eeeh?!”

“Too late! Just go! Go!”

From behind them, Luffy was now telling off the enemy.

“Oi ossan! Stop throwing those mystery lights on us!”

But the man was oblivious. He was only focused in eliminating them out of his sight.

“That’s it! Gomu gomu no…”

“Luffy stop!” Almost everyone shouted.

“Pistol!”

Luffy’s rubber fist collided with the man’s face, sending him flying a good four feet away.

“LUFFY!” They all gaped as the man lay sprawled on the ground, seemingly unconscious.

“Yosh!” Their captain declared with a nod, crossing his arms and looking absolutely pleased with himself.

“Well that put a stop to—” Brook’s voice trailed off when the man stood up, looking totally unaffected by Luffy’s punch.

Usopp let out a whimper. “Is it me or he looks angrier than ever?”

No one answered. Because no one can.

For the man suddenly let out an enraged scream as huge purple orbs appeared all around him. He swung his arm with all his might, casting all of them towards the pirates.

“WATCH OUT!!!” Usopp screamed.

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

Zoro stared at the empty space in front of him.

His hand was still extended, his fingers still poised to grab the woman who was not there any longer.

Just a few inches more…

Yet he was not able to reach her in time.

“Nami!!!!”

Somewhere from behind him, their captain screamed.

#zoro x nami #ZoNa #zonami #zonalove #zoro nami fanfiction #zona fanfiction #roronoa zoro #nami

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