#Notoriah
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True story.
(A rare Noto & Piusa appears)
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“Tears in Rain” (for Yoel)
Young Notoriah faces his greatest challenge yet - easing the pain of his grieving best friend.
Serves as a written companion piece to this image.
Notoriah Virgilius Ruggaboor and Thelios Pyrell belong to @yoel-o-fellow
Content warning: Existentialist themes, mentions of death, and a whole lot of angst.
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May 25th, 1428
Malshire, Moldova
There is a word for which Romanians described sadness – “tristeţe.”
But from what Notoriah remembered, that word could never fully describe the thoughts, the emotions, or the sensations that bore underneath every inch of his numbed skin one particular rainy day – the day he first witnessed Thelios Pyrell in mourning.
The sky above was overcast with deep blue tenebrous clouds. A frigid breeze was blowing from the east, sending the land into a chill. Shivery rain fell in droves, forming a half-inch layer of water around the drenched adolescents.
For the first couple of moments, there was silence, save for the lonely pattering of raindrops and the occasional sniffle from Thelios.
Notoriah leaned forward as he searched for any sign of responsiveness from the young Pagan, his head bowed and face hidden.
“Thelios?”
No response.
“Thelios? Are… are you –”
His breath caught itself in his throat as he felt Thelios’s forehead impact his sternum. The smaller boy shut his eyes tightly in a vain attempt to stifle the stream of tears flowing down his face.
A pause. Thelios swallowed dryly as he struggled to get his words out.
“S-she’s gone, Notoriah… she’s gone…”
Notoriah heaved a sigh. He brought his numbed hands up to barely hold the shivering boy, with one coming to rest on his back, and the other cupping the back of his neck.
“I know.”
Thelios uttered a loud sniffle and buried his face deeper into his older companion’s chest. He wrapped his arms tightly around Notoriah’s torso.
“She… she just… stopped breathing... I-I kept telling her to wake up… but… she couldn’t. S-she just… couldn’t…”
Notoriah sharply exhaled. Arboreah was never very fond of Notoriah, and he wasn’t very fond of her in turn. But to Thelios, she meant more than all the land that sat beneath the sky, and then some. Although he and Arboreah never really got on, Notoriah had to admit that he had never witnessed a more strongly forged bond than the one between her and Thelios. It seemed that everything he ever did, he did for her.
But she was gone. He was still here.
“I… I tried everything, Notoriah! I made every single medical potion I knew how to make, so… w-why did she not heal? Why couldn’t I make her better?”
Notoriah took a deep breath as he stroked Thelios’s head.
“That was very kind and noble of you, Thelios. I’m certain your grandmother appreciated your valiant efforts. But the fact of the matter is… sometimes things don’t really happen the way we think they will.”
“But… they always worked, Notoriah! Always! I-I-I don’t understand why they didn’t work this time!”
“Thelios –”
Notoriah’s response came to a halt as he felt Thelios pull his head away from his chest. A twinge of pain twisted through the taller boy’s stomach as he caught his first glimpse at the shorter boy’s terribly contorted face. His swollen, teary eyes were wide with what could only be described as trauma. It had to be one of the most haunting things Notoriah had ever seen.
“It… it’s all my fault, isn’t it?”
Notoriah’s eyes flared as he uttered a sharp gasp. “Thelios, how could you say that?!”
“I-I could’ve saved her if I just tried harder!”
“You did everything in your power to try to keep your grandmother alive. But death is not something that can be cured with a potion. It is not your fault, do you hear me?”
“YES IT IS! I wasn’t skilled enough to find the proper spell to help her, and now she’s dead! IT'S ALL MY FAULT!”
Notoriah’s glare grew furious. He yanked Thelios forward by his shoulders, growling the first few words of his response through grit teeth.
“Thelios… stop it. Right. Now. Look at me. There is no cure for death, do you understand that?! Nobody in all of history has ever been able to find a cure for death, and there is no way that you will be the first. Death comes for us all eventually. Your grandmother was an old woman, and as hard it is for you to hear this, it was going to happen to her sooner or later. I know you gave it your best effort, and I know you wanted to save her, but no elixir or potion or whatever is going to stop someone from dying. It is a natural process of life. Now please… stop. Blaming. Yourself. Alright? It is not. Your. Fault.”
A tense pause followed.
For what felt like the longest time, the two boys only stood there, chests heaving and eyes wide. Neither one felt like he could say anything.
Thelios’s watery eyes shifted back and forth awkwardly as he tried to avoid Notoriah’s fierce gaze only a few inches away from him. He began hyperventilating as Notoriah’s vitriolic reasoning sank in.
The future count’s expression fell instantly. His chest grew heavy.
Oh no.
“G-GET OFF ME!” Thelios shouted as he yanked himself out of Notoriah’s hold, shoving him back a few inches. “I should have known coming to you was a mistake! Serves me right for being so ‘wide-eyed’, I suppose!” he cried, turning away from the older boy.
Notoriah felt his stomach lurch. Thelios had shouted at him before, but never with so much… vitriol. He slowly reached out to touch the Pagan boy’s shoulder.
“Th-Thelios, I-I’m so sorry, I –”
“DON’T TOUCH ME!” Thelios screamed, slapping the older boy’s hand away. “Just… just go away! You’ve done enough!”
Notoriah took a few steps back, wringing his wrists. Perhaps he had been a little too harsh on him. He expelled a large huff of breath and covered his mouth as he pondered over what he had just done.
This wasn’t any sort of sadness Thelios was experiencing. This was grief, something entirely unfamiliar – and therefore frightening – to him.
His only family was dead.
His only home had been burned down by order of the king.
His whole faith and existence now laid in the balance.
Everything that ever gave Thelios a sense of joy had been lost to the viciousness of time, much like his tears had lost themselves in the falling rain.
Notoriah on the other hand, was no stranger to grief and loss. He felt it when he lost his mother as a small child. He felt it when he witnessed a brutal public execution in the center of the village… with his own father as the executioner.
And yet despite this understanding, he just had to go and say things the wrong way and make his closest friend feel even worse and shut himself off from him. He clenched his eyes and teeth tightly as the heaviness of his mistake became apparent.
What had he done?
Once Notoriah looked back over to Thelios again, his back was still turned, and his arms were still tightly crossed. He could clearly tell that he was freezing from how violently he was shivering. His stomach lurched even more. He couldn’t just leave him in the cold to fend for himself like this. Something had to be done.
With some hesitation, Notoriah went completely against Thelio’s wish, and began calling out to him – this time, with gentleness.
“Thelios? Th-Thelios, please… I-I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry for yelling at you. I-I just don’t want you to blame yourself for something that wasn’t your fault.”
“How do I know you’re not just saying that?!” Thelios hissed. “And what are you still doing here?! I thought I told you to GO AWAY!”
Notoriah huffed yet again. He had to be gentler than that.
“Thelios… c-come now, Thelios… please… please look at me… I didn’t mean to shout… really I didn’t… I-I just… don’t like seeing you like this.”
“Seeing me like what?! Weak?! Is that what you’re trying to say?!”
“No, Thelios! No! That’s not what I mean at all! I just… I just lose myself sometimes because… because…”
“Because what?! Because you’re unhinged and controlling?!”
A pause. Notoriah clenched his fists by his sides and stood as straight and tall as he could.
“Because I hate when the people I love are being unkind to themselves when they don’t deserve to be!”
Thelios blinked twice. Did he hear all that right? People he loves? Did that include… him?
“You’re already in enough pain, and I don’t want you to add onto that by ruminating over what you could have or should have done! You’re not weak, Thelios! If anything, you’ve been strong for too long.”
Silence fell once more.
After a moment, Thelios finally turned his head to face Notoriah, brows no longer furrowed, and teeth no longer grit.
“Do you… do you really mean all that, Notoriah?”
Notoriah nodded. “Yes, Thelios. I mean every word. I do.”
“Am I really… someone you love? Is that… is that true?”
Another pause. Notoriah’s gaze fell to the ground for a brief second before rising back up to meet the beautiful scarlet eyes of the boy in front of him. He took a deep breath to ease his now pounding heart.
“Yes, Thelios. You are someone I love. I… I love you. I-I really love you. More than you believe. More than you know. With all that I am, I love you.”
Thelios’s eyes widened with every word. He had never heard anyone other than his grandmother say that to him. And he certainly never expected the admittedly handsome cynical boy he admired with dark hair and piercing hazel eyes to say that. He felt the lump in his throat return as he tried to process this new emotion that had now been thrown into the mix.
Notoriah slowly stretched his arms out towards the freckled boy. “Please… come here my dear friend… come back to me. I won’t harm you, I promise. I just want to help you.”
Thelios swallowed dryly. His eyes flickered frantically between Notoriah’s face and open arms. He felt so strange right now. Does he really mean what he says? Should he take this chance?
“Trust me.”
The young Pagan blinked twice again at the sound of his friend’s plea. His voice in that moment was so raspy, and yet so gentle. His arms appeared so warm and welcoming, and it did feel pretty cold standing there by himself.
He took a brief look up at the sky. Those clouds weren’t going to clear out anytime soon. Perhaps he can allow himself to be held close by Notoriah. That is what a friend was for, wasn’t it? And he did say that he loved him...
With a heavy sniffle and some hesitation, Thelios slowly stepped forward back into the taller boy’s arms, where they returned to their places on his head and neck once more.
“There, now. It’s alright,” Notoriah gently whispered, stroking the smaller boy’s cheek. “I’ve got you now. Now please, tell me… is there anything I can do to help you in this time of need? Anything at all?”
A pause.
“Can you stop my pain?”
Notoriah blinked twice in confusion. “Stop your pain? As in… completely?”
Thelios once again pushed his face deep into Notoriah’s chest, threw his arms back around him, and tightly grasped the fabric of his soaked teal camasa, pleading to him in the language of dead innocence.
“Please make it stop… please… it hurts… it hurts so much, Notoriah…”
Notoriah froze completely still, mind awash with shock and confusion as his splayed fingers tingled in the frigid open air.
While they had a history filled with warmth, curiosity, and laughter like any friendship, they also had more than a fair share of misunderstandings, arguments, and fallouts. Their last meeting ended in complete anger. Notoriah even almost drove Thelios away in his greatest time of need only a couple of minutes earlier with yet another angry outburst.
So why, after all that, did Thelios still come to Notoriah first after witnessing his grandmother’s death?
Notoriah slowly looked down at the weeping child clinging onto him once more. Thelios had pressed his face deeper into his chest. He was beginning to feel a warm wet patch forming from Thelios’s tears.
“Please, Notoriah… you’re the only one who can help… please…”
Notoriah’s breath stifled as he came to a startling realization.
Before today, Thelios had very few things to count on. He had his faith. He had his home in the forest. He had his loving grandmother. Now he had nothing left.
Nothing except his unstable friendship with Notoriah.
The future count’s heart thundered in his ears as he took one last look at the barely thirteen-year-old distraught boy tightly pressed to his breastbone. This poor, innocent, wide-eyed forest dweller’s world – the one he knew since he was a small child – had been completely destroyed within the course of a day, and Notoriah was all that was left of that world. Thelios had nobody else to turn to now.
The older boy shut his eyes tight and heaved a great sigh.
Thelios was never going to get hurt again on his watch. Ever. If any of the king’s men came to seize his friend in the coming days, they would have to go through him first. Whatever hardships they had, they worked through together. That would be no different now.
Slowly and tenderly, Notoriah wrapped his arms around Thelios’s frame, returning his embrace. He pressed the younger boy’s body snugly against his, resting his copper-haired head into the crook of his neck as a pair of hot tears finally made their way down his face.
“I’ll try, Thelios… I’ll try.”
#The Ruggaboors#My writing#Fanfiction#Other's OCs#Notoriah Virgilius Ruggaboor#Thelios Pyrell#Notoriah X Thelios#Gifts for others#YoelOFellow#Right I’m dead tired - both of looking at this and in general. Gonna go pass out now. So enjoy or whatever.✌
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What’s left of the man who had nothing | Part 3: My demons look like you
Brooo this is a big one, very ✨hefty✨. I just went on a trance while writing and when I “woke” this was there… remember, quality NEVER guaranteed!
Jokes aside I like this! I was eager to jump on the juicy parts I’ve planned but nothing was to my liking untill this spawned, everything seemed too rushed… so I do hope you’re able to enjoy it too~
@yoel-o-fellow let’s talk about what you got planned for Sverenne and everything because man I’d love to hear what’s in your head and if you also get lost in the sauce like I do when writing. (I’d also love to hear about it if that’s completely fine with you I’m mostly joking but also 👀✨)
Please enjoy, or not 😉😉 (no srs pls enjoy)
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Believe it or else the Ruggaboors had to be kicked out the family property before they tore the place down. While Sebastian angrily played tug of war with a few members who insisted on taking chairs and statues, Marvin tried to argue very loudly that there would be another funeral soon enough so there was no need to strip the place naked right that instant.
That just prompted everyone to horrifically turn their heads towards the oldest member, the grandfather that fainted earlier, and smile in the disgusting way only the putrid family knew how to. Although most of them agreed it was a solid reason enough and put the many objects down, a sly someone slithered away with a random marble bust or two.
After being found in such a harrowing state, old Gallagher just sat on his chair in the living room. He had his nephews turn it to face the windows in the living room, but sat there silently barely reacting to anything they said or did to try and snap him out of that trance. The only time he got up was when it hit 4pm and his favorite flick was on, so he slowly moved to turn on the television, but sat facing away from it as the chair now looked straight out the window.
— What the hell even is a Notoriah? — Sebastian asked quite angrily — Uncle’s done gone mad! Almost made this funeral a double feature!
— By goodness, Jacob! Watch yourself! — Marvin clasped a hand over his brother’s mouth — Uncle! We’re going to fix dinner! Any requests?
Upon receiving a grunt in response he sighed in disappointment, them yelped from being bitten by Sebastian’s abnormally sharp canines. Both slowly headed into the kitchen while most lovely cursing eachother out very silently but very meanly so.
The kitchen did not lift their spirits in the slightest. Gomorrah was a terrible cook in her lifetime, most out of spite, but also because she couldn’t fathom herself taking the same role as her mother: tending to the house as a wife was her biggest fear. So she messed up food on her own accord, but when left alone and feeling gloomy, her hearty soup was something you just needed to taste.
Although they weren’t going hungry they definitely weren’t tasting anything good, their mum and uncle. The cabinets were stocked with those easy to make foods, supplements, old people food and rat poison enough to kill the whole population of english rats that probably resided in their attic and basement. The fridge had pieces of meat, juice and water, who the hell is out there juicing prunes? And a lonely bottle of cider on the very back as Sebastian made a mental note. A basket housed potatoes, garlic, and onions. Also a moldy apple to top it off.
— Well, he is definitely better off starving, so are we — Sebastian commented as he analyzed their options — But we can make a simple stew, maybe?
— Maybe we’d just head down to the pub? — Marvin grimaced at the squishy and dead apple.
Looking at eachother and finally throwing away the apple, they both nodded and resounded a “no”. Not leaving uncle alone at least untill he was back to his rotten and sarcastic self. They wanted no blood on their hands and nothing to do with planning a Ruggaboor funeral.
Now, although Marvin left home earlier, the man would starve sooner than anyone else in a dire situation. The circus troop gave him shelter and readily food, and then he’d live off many forgotten lovers for a few years untill they broke up or he wandered away without a word said. Also the man once burned water, Sebastian can easily vouch for it and so can the Stoke Fire Department.
The youngest Ruggaboor was the one to command the kitchen, giving orders and letting his brother do only a bit outside of cutting and pouring. His parents, the absolute winners of parenthood, couldn’t care less if he was fed or not, maybe out of being blackout drunk most of the day and away all night. Sebastian learned very early on — and specially after Marvin left — that independence was not only a gift he was given but also his only means for survival to a decent age.
The pot slowly cooked and filled the house with a good smell, not great but enough to make it feel less of a bummer. They sat at the table, one spreading butter on bread and the other hazardously toasting them with a simple lighter. This awkward exchange of glances and curse words whenever the hot butter fell on someone’s hand was the first moment of reflection Marvin and Sebastian were allowed that day — oh yes, we burried mother today huh? Ow! Soddin’ butter!…
— She’s really gone, that witch of a woman
— Didn’t ya always picture her being the one to burry us instead? — Marvin played around with the lighter — Ya sent me a letter saying that once
— Well? It made better sense than this — The youngest pointed around with a knife, and to the frilly apron he wore — That hag, good ridance!
Marvin chuckled, Sebastian smirked. For the two of them this too was the first time in a bit they felt carefree and not awkward around eachother in a goddamn while. Be it his pride getting in the way or an apology left unsaid. Be it his hurt and anger hidden by apathetic malice.
— She hadn’t spoken to me since so long ago — The youngest spoke — Then just the week before she passed, suddenly she calls me! Asks me when I’m coming to Stoke again!
— Mother probably felt something, Jacob, like cats do — He shrugged — Honestly it’s nonsensical for me too, she was able to find me and sent me a letter
— What did it say?
— That I shouldn’t be a stranger, that this place is my home too! Fuck! Can you even believe that? — Marvin asked, eyes watering all over — She said that! That… that awful woman!
— Well damn Marv, ye won’t believe what she told me then!
Between mumbled and sobbing words, he asked his brother. With a grim on his face, Sebastian punched the knife down, getting it stuck on the table. He leaned in real close to his brother’s face, enough that their breaths mixed very uncomfortably.
— Before I hung up, she told me that — He felt the tears welling up in his eyes — She’d love to see me face again, and that she loved me!
Dead silent, the pot boiling over now, butter and breadcrumbs all over everyone and everything. Sebastian started to laugh, which turned to a maniacal cackle very quickly as he turned off the stove and leaned over the counter, screaming while crying. Marvin, once startled, soon followed suit, also screeching laughing and falling back from his chair. Even after hitting the floor with a loud thud, they just kept laughing and cackling. Looking at eachother only made it worse but they couldn’t stop, that was too damn good.
Gallagher stood against the wall as he missed the chance to enter the kitchen while they weren’t losing their minds. But he heard good and he heard it all, he even aided his sister in writing the letter and finding the number to her son’s telephone line. Notoriah’s smirking face came to mind and the old man grit his teeth, making a fist with his right hand while the left was clenched around the cane.
Only he knew what his sister went through, only he knew what turned her into that monster. Everything and all that happened to them, to her, to his brother in law, all was his own fault way back when. Frustrating, scary as it was, he wanted them to know it all before he also became history. But Gallagher wouldn’t have no sons to curse his name at the kitchen table, not at all, he was alone. If he died and when he did, it would be like a whisper that got lost in translation, because no one would organize a fanfare to send him off to the seventh depth of Hell.
— Oh Morrah, I’ll see ye soon I promise — He whispered to himself — But I gots to fix this, so maybe in the next life…
No one would miss old Gallagher Ruggaboor. Nobody would be bothered at all, he smiled to himself while walking into the accidental carnage the kitchen had become, and no one will sing about me.
— Uncle..?
— Bloody hell the stew is ruined!..
— Pack up ye lot, we’re going for a walk!
Not one soul, nobody would miss him, poor old Gallagher Ruggaboor.
But to end something he started and destroy what destroyed him, maybe that’s worth it.
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Notoriah and Agnes
(featuring her cat, Toad)
Agnes: Wow, you poisoned an entire village and blamed it on the plauge?! That's so awesome! I wish I could do that!
Notoriah: Why?
Agnes: Cuz it's fun!
Notoriah: Um, okay?
Agnes: Have you talked to Satan too?
Notoriah: Yes, I have. Have you?
Agnes: Yep! A billion times! I met him when I was 7! I'm a professional witch!
Notoriah: That's... rather impressive.
Agnes: I have a pet cat too! Say hi, Toad!
Toad (the cat): *hops on Notoriah's lap*
Notoriah: He's nice.
Agnes: *snickers* Not really. When Toad was a kitten, he bit a man's throat off! Isn't that cute?
Notoriah: Oh. Um, how did you become so hyperactive?
Agnes: You really wanna know?
Notoriah: *nods*
Agnes: *blankly* A lightning bolt struck my head and dislocated my neck. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!
Notoriah: ...Ok.
Agnes: I think you're the awesome person in history!
Notoriah: Why?
Agnes: Cuz you're just like me and love you! *hugs him*
Notoriah: *smiles* Aww... you're completely mad, but I love you too.
(If Agnes met Notoriah, I think they would get along perfectly.)
The OC , Notoriah, belongs to @yoel-o-fellow
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I had to.
#character art#ocs#meme#Sverenne#my doodles#urokmura#grimr#achtbenatu#wintrem#levehethen#zephry#izammar#notoriah#dietre
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Ok, hear me out.
Noto.........................but as a dragon 👀
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It’s the spoopy month, so it’s time for some vampire Noto.
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Maybe it’s time to bring in the dybbuk exterminator. 💀
Characters: Ballantine & Notoriah (her great, great (x30) grandfather).
Story: The Ruggaboors.
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Maybe I should make a dating sim called Scream Daddy and make all of Sverenne's disaster gays romanceable.
Your choices are...
Sage Daddy (Levehethen)
Shadowy Daddy (Achtbenatu)
Scoundrel Daddy (Zephry)
Snob Daddy (Izammar)
Shy Daddy (GrímR)
Serious Daddy (The Swordsman who has yet to be named)
Specter Daddy (Notoriah)
Who would you choose?
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What’s left of the man who had nothing | Part 2: Old friends, same problems
Boy this took a while… but it’s here!
Ruggaboors belong to the lovely and talented @yoel-o-fellow
I hope you like this too!~
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Gallagher sat alone in his room after the reading of the will. The party was far from over for the rest of the Boors and a luncheon was precariously set on the backyard. His nephews gave up trying to drag him outside after multiple attempts with Sebastian surprisingly bring the most patient, claiming he’d soon fix a plate to bring inside so his old uncle wouldn’t go hungry. Marvin scooted off as soon as he caught glimpse of the girl, the one fighting for the necklace earlier with her mother, going on about how he was a world traveller. That made the old man chuckle peeking at the failed attempt from the window.
— Laugh while you still can, foolish child — A profound voice suddenly spoke — But time’s arrow is always marching forward, you see…
Gallagher jumped upwards, cane in hand, wielding it as a sword. He turned to face the corner the voice supposedly came from and squinted. Mocking laughter now came from this corner while the temperature of the room dropped rapidly.
— Oh Gally! Is that how you greet an old friend?
— Yer no friend of mine, Notoriah, show yerself! Posh sod!
Gallagher sat back down on his chair while a black vortex materialized right there in front of him. In mere seconds, on the bed, sat a extremely tall and elegant man. He could easily be described as outrageously handsome and drop-dead gorgeous by anyone anywhere. Dressed to the nines in pristine gothic attire complete with enviable long nails, Notoriah was what Edgar Allan Poe could only fathom in his wildest dreams. And God help us, he definitely knew that.
Notoriah smiled at Gallagher, who just glared and squinted his eyes at the presence. He peeked out the window, now with closed blinds, smiling at the party still rocking outside.
— Hell of a party, yes? Why aren’t you there?
— Because, you twat, I knew you’d show up!
— Oh well, Gally — Notoriah stood up — I always said you were the smarter one!
He would die before admitting that the presence made him nervous. The tall man, as charming as he seemed, was a complete menace that he knew well enough. Even while he was simply standing, Gallagher felt his heart nearly beating out of his chest, his eyes widened in pure terror.
— They boys… they deserve to know…
— Do they? Is that what you think?
— I know they can fix this — Gallagher closed his eyes — They’re different from their parents, and from me too.
The two men sat in silence. The firm presence exerting pressure over the frail old figure of the green man. Notoriah looked outside again, watching specifically as Sebastian and Marvin sat together to eat, the former mocking the latter for his failed attempt at flirting. His eyes then darted to the mother and daughter, the ones fighting for the pearls before, and he smirked.
— Her daughter and grandkid, huh?
— They’re Ruggaboors whether you like that or not, ass
— My dearest, a Ruggaboor is a disease, a plague! No one likes it! — Notoriah closed the blinds — Pray tell, what is this really about?
He propped himself on the bed, crossing one leg over the other and his hands on his lap. The smile on the tall man’s face irritated Gallagher, like everything else about him, but he just looked away as he wouldn’t let it bother him now. He didn’t have the luxury to be bothered anymore, seldom had he the time.
Notoriah probably already knew his answer, and already had a complicated question to mess him up even more.
In the end Gallagher didn’t answer, just shut his eyes and grit his teeth while Notoriah watched him with amusement. He then stood up, placing a hand on the old man’s shoulder with an even faker smile on his face.
— It was the choices you made that took your destiny to this very moment — He spoke — Because your fate has been set in stone for ages
— Please, I beg of you, Notoriah — The old man held onto his arm — I need to make it right!…
— No matter what, you were the one who made them this way — He gripped onto his shoulder — And their consequences are your fault entirely
•••
Sebastian and Marvin decided they would stay a few days at the old house. Mainly because, and Sebastian would rather eat rat poison before admitting so, but he wanted some closure. Marvin too, but in all, he just didn’t really feel like being alone after all of that at least for a while.
But the second reason that officially made them stay was finding old uncle Gallagher sobbing uncontrollably in fetal position on the floor of his room, hugging his cane and muttering apologies.
They just silently told eachother they didn’t wish for another funeral anytime so soon.
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What’s left of the man who had nothing | Part 4: Old man’s last chance
Boy, I think this is heading towards a rocky whatever :D
Hope this is a somewhat enjoyable read!
The Jones belong to me
Your favorite trio you never needed belongs to @yoel-o-fellow
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The Pink Manor was an unofficial attraction of Stoke. The exaggerated rococo styled mansion stood atop the tallest hill around, clashing with both the industrial styles and colder hues of the city. The Pink Manor was, well, pink, with enormous rooftops of marine blue tiles. The owners, the way too rich Jones family, had the terrain for a long time already. Curiously, they only built the gigantic house later on and stashed it surrounded by a garden so beautiful but so eerie at the same time, keeping thousands of maids and butlers flowing in and out daily.
The only person locals ever saw get in or out the house was Emily Jones, and sometimes her brother would stop by to see how she was doing, but never stay the night. Emily was seen as a wildcard and many speculated that she was sent to Stoke to be kept in line and not dirty the family’s name further. Some good years after living basically imprisoned, Emily died under mysterious and gruesome circumstances, found in the rose garden by a maid, her blood staining the white roses pink and red.
Speculation arose but nobody ever found concrete proof to their gossip.
It didn’t get better after, one night, a group of hooligan kids decided to trespass the seemingly abandoned mansion. While heading to the garden bed the body was found on one of the boys shrieked in horror and stumbled back from where he came from, dropping his lantern. As the others picked it up to shine it upon the roses, color drained from their faces as the supposedly diseased Emily Jones stood there! Just before them! She yelled at them to get out which they quickly obliged. Nobody would dare to go near the manor after that, only the diseased’s brother would come and go probably to maintain the house. For who? Maybe his sister’s ghost, unsatisfied and angry at a death nobody even decided to pry about.
Gallagher knew better than that actually, he rolled his eyes at those statements or not even acknowledged them if spoken to of the matter. Gomorrah was worse, getting physical about it if inquired. Nobody knew why they were so hot and cold on the topic, they had no ties on the Jones’.
— Why do you have the keys to the Pink Manor? — The oldest nephew asked
Marvin’s nervous question fell on deaf ears while Gallagher twisted the rusty keys around, finally getting rid of the last bit of chain that kept the once pristine picket gate completely closed off to everyone and anyone. He received a grunt and dear uncle ushered them to follow closely to him. Marvin became frustrated, but Sebastian glared at him to pipe down before whatever this was became something too. As the silent quarrel insisted on Gallagher shuffled through the keys, heading straight to a great gazebo. The old man stood a while before opening it as if wishing for something else, some force to stop him and change his course. Of course none of it happened and Notoriah’s smug grin popped up on his mind.
— Uncle..? What the hell are we doing, trespassing here? — Marvin asked despite his brother’s protests — I don’t see how this ties to uh, anything!!
— Bloody hell Marv just let him!
— I wanna know why are you so calm, Jacob! Ain’t you got a sense in that big brain o’yours?!
— I’ve got enough in half a mind than you’ve in all that empty head! Just shut up!
Between bickering they got inside the gazebo. Which looked more like a place someone was living or had lived, judging by some belongings strewn around, none of which seemed relevant or known to them. Gallagher scoffed at their fighting while slowly letting himself fall on an old couch, nonchalantly dusting off a random book and reading it’s contents very quickly. There was another couch, a small cupboard, a desk and a chair with an old oil-lamp and marks of burnt out candles across it’s top. Small, cozy and a very lived in place.
— Yer father…
The boys instantly stopped upon the mention of Octavius. Their old uncle laughed, putting the book away near him quite neatly. He scratched his chin nonchalantly and got ahold of his cane again.
— He’s tying everything here — He gestured around with his cane — He lived here a while, the keys I have on me were his, copies of the originals..
The keys jingles and they got tossed over to Sebastian. The book made a loud splat in front of Marvin.
Gallagher stood up in front of his nephews, confident but also nervous about what his words would cause. Marvin clutched the book as if his life depended on it, his nails digging into the old leather as so. Sebastian stuffed the keys into his pocket, instinctively grabbing onto his brother’s shirt while eyeing his once beloved uncle — now a strange man of confusing acts and words — slowly dance around before staring at them with a most unwelcome grin.
— I made Gomorrah as she was, I ruined Octavius as he were!
The boys flinched, he threw the cane against a window and broke it, pieces splashing around hazardously. A piece cut the uncle’s face, but by God he felt nothing. He wiped the blood and laughed as it stained his cream sweater sleeve.
— I made them both Ruggaboor — He said — And by God, I did awfully well!
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Just some vehicles I can see Noto being chaperoned in.
Yes, I know two of them are for funerals. That’s the point-
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Today I turned 1007 and received a salty birthday card from a salty old man.
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“What We Do in the Shadows” is great inspiration-fodder for Noto
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‘Til death do they part~ Oh, wait-
I wanna turn this into a sticker for my laptop.
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Some fashion scribbles for The Pale Eye and Notoriah.
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