#and re: your following message. first of all never apologize for your english skills. like ever

[cuties-in-codices]

Where do you find these manuscripts? Is it like a website or do you find it randomly??

hey, thanks for the curiosity! lenghty answer below the cut :)

1)

medieval manuscripts are typically owned by libraries and showcased on the library's websites. so one thing i do is i randomly browse those digitized manuscript collections (like the collections of the bavarian state library or the bodleian libraries, to name just two), which everybody can do for free without any special access. some digital collections provide more useful tools than others (like search functions, filters, annotations on each manuscript). if they don't, the process of wading through numerous non-illustrated manuscripts before i find an illustrated one at all can be quite tedious.

2)

there are databases which help to navigate the vast sea of manuscripts. the one i couldn't live without personally use the most is called KdIH (Katalog der deutschsprachigen illustrierten Handschriften des Mittelalters). it's a project which aims to list all illustrated medieval manuscripts written in german dialects. the KdIH provides descriptions of the contents of each manuscript (with a focus on the illustrations), and if there's a digital reproduction of a manuscript available anywhere, the KdIH usually links to it. the KdIH is an invaluable tool for me because of its focus on illustrated manuscripts, because of the informations it provides for each manuscript, and because of its useful search function (once you've gotten over the initial confusion of how to navigate the website). the downside is that it includes only german manuscripts, which is one of the main reasons for the over-representation of german manuscripts on my blog (sorry about that).

3)

another important database for german manuscripts in general (i.e. not just illustrated ones) is the handschriftencensus, which catalogues information regarding the entirety of german language manuscripts of the middle ages, and also links to the digital reproductions of each manuscript.

4)

then there are simply considerable snowball effects. if you do even just superficial research on any medieval topic at all (say, if you open the wikipedia article on alchemy), you will inevitably stumble upon mentions of specific illustrated manuscripts. the next step is to simply search for a digital copy of the manuscript in question (this part can sometimes be easier said than done, especially when you're coming from wikipedia). one thing to keep in mind is that a manuscript illustration seldom comes alone - so every hint to any illustration at all is a greatly valuable one (if you do what i do lol). there's always gonna be something interesting in any given illustrated manuscript. (sidenote: one very effective 'cheat code' would be to simply go through all manuscripts that other online hobbyist archivers of manuscript illustrations have gone through before - like @discardingimages on tumblr - but some kind of 'professional pride' detains me from doing so. that's just a kind of stubbornness though. like, i want to find my material more or less on my own, not just the images but also the manuscripts, and i apply arbitrary rules to my search as to what exactly that means.)

5)

whatever tool or strategy i use to find specific illustrated manuscripts-- in the end, one unavoidable step is to actually manually skim through the (digitized) manuscript. i usually have at least a quick look at every single illustrated page, and i download or screenshot everything that is interesting to me. this process can take up to an hour per manuscript.

---

in conclusion, i'd say that finding cool illuminated manuscripts is much simpler than i would have thought before i started this blog. there are so many of them out there and they're basically just 'hidden in plain side', it's really astounding. finding the manuscripts doesn't require special skills, just some basic experience with/knowledge of the tools available. the reason i'm able to post interesting images almost daily is just that i spend a lot of time doing all of this, going through manuscripts, curating this blog, etc. i find a lot of comfort in it, i learn a lot along the way, and i immensely enjoy people's engagement with my posts. so that's that :)

#if you ever have any specific questions about any of these tools or my strategies feel free to ask or dm me #i'd also be interested in recommendations of databases that are specific to other languages/regions that are neither german nor english #preferably with a focus on illuminated manuscripts #or useful databases that are just not very well known #ask #medieval art #medieval studies #btw @anon sorry for only getting around to answering your ask now #and re: your following message. first of all never apologize for your english skills. like ever #it's a daily struggle for me as well tbh. i never post anything without german/english dictionary tabs open lol #and i feel like i 'owe' it to the tumblr blogger format to write in smooth english #secondly your question wasn't dumb at all! i'm glad somebody asked :)

[bts-love-sweat-tears]

Café Potente

Title: Café Potente

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Type: cafe!au, pure tooth-rotting fluff!

Rating: PG

Warnings: Namjoon being a slight perv, kinkshaming if you squint (haha)

Word count: 1,628

Summary: In which Namjoon uses English and Clumsy to get himself a date. 

A/N: First ever collab with @sugarcookiesandsins. She just had to re-create so be sure to follow her. She’s also the grand admin of a really amazing Discord fangirl server. This was both really fun and obnoxiously hard to write, bc we kept dying of uwus while writing (I’m old, does this make sense)? Anyway, sorry not sorry for the massive amounts of cheese.

For once in your life, you were hoping that the universe would cooperate. So far, everything was going perfectly: the bus schedule, the weather, the heavenly smell of freshly brewed coffee. But good things come only in threes and you felt it in your gut that the universe would be giving you something bad to balance it out. 

Still, you soldiered on; you had been dying to try this new coffee shop, and it did not disappoint. From the soft fairy lights framing the chalkboard menu to the soft murmuring of the people around you, this cafe looked like it had been pulled straight from a fiction romance: the type of place where a meet-cute would happen. You dragged your eyes over the old-fashioned brick wall on the left side, patterned with a collage of art and paper notices, some advertising other stores and other simply messages about loving life. 

All-in-all you could definitely see yourself coming back here, perhaps to study, or even just to curl up in that plush bean bag in the corner with a good book.

Walking further into your personal utopia, you entered the line and focused on the menu. It had all the classics, and even a special menu that you were considering making your way through. Settling on your order, you let your thoughts wander until they settled on the other patrons. 

There was a tall boy in front of you, clad in all denim and a baseball cap pulled low over his face. You normally didn’t pay much attention to those around you, but the line was barely moving, and he had presence.  He was on his phone, speaking animatedly about something or other. As you eyed him idly, you realized that the phone conversation he was having was in perfect English. It had been months since you had had any meaningful conversations, rather than the mindless repetition of colors and numbers you circled though with your students.

Without permission from your social graces, your feet moved closer, yearning to hear more about whatever mundane conversation he was having.  Just as you got close enough to actually hear the conversation, it was finally his turn to order. He almost dropped his phone upon hanging up, scrambling to catch it, but knocking over the tip jar in the process. It clanged noisily to the ground and you noticed a blush tint the top of his ears as he bent down to recover it. 

It seemed that luck was not on his side however as his hat managed to catch on the lip of the counter falling off his head to the hardwood floor. You picked it up, and handed it to him. He nodded gratefully but didn’t say anything. You had been hoping to strike up a conversation with the stranger, but he clearly had enough on his plate. He moved to the far end of the counter to wait for his drink and before you could think of anything to say, it was your turn to order.

After ordering and paying for your drink, you moved down to the far end of the counter, and stood once again behind the taller man. He was back on his phone, emphatically gesturing as he continued his conversation on the phone. He seemed clueless that he was mixing korean and english into a new language all its own. It was oddly endearing. 

You thought that you were at a respectable normal distance, but apparently chaos was a natural state of being for him. Before you knew what had happened, you were covered in the remnants of his drink. Though you knew forces of entropy were present in the universe, this boy must have been prime among them.

Somehow, in the scant seconds between grabbing his drink and spinning around, the two of you collided. You had expected that such a public embarrassment would move slowly, like in the seconds before a fall, but no. In one fell swoop, you had gone from cozy anticipation of your drink to completely drenched in his. You felt like a complete idiot, standing there frozen pondering the statistical probability of what had just occurred. 

However frozen you felt, though, the chaotic bilingual boy in front of you was a flurry of energy, moving for the napkins, apologizing profusely, and somehow still managing to maintain that smooth flow of bilinguality with whoever was on the other end. 

You decided to choose one for him, with a small grin you pacified the man. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” You rejoiced as the syllables flowed out your mouth, relishing in the rare feeling of speaking english. 

His eyes widened comically, whether surprised at your language skills, or lack of rage; you couldn’t be entirely certain. Still he managed to compose himself pretty quickly, before blurting out a final apology, seemingly blank on any other words. 

You covered your giggle with your hand, momentarily forgetting about the brown stain on the front of your favorite t-shirt, emblazoned with the words THAT GIRL. But, the passing breeze of an opening door felt cold against the front of your chest, causing you to try to shield your torso from the offending wind. 

You glared at the new customer, blaming them for the new awkwardness you were feeling. Yet, you felt the pointed stare of someone. Turning back to the clumsy genius, you raised an eyebrow at the way his eyes were fixated on your chest. Seeing his pupils moving back and forth was the only thing keeping you from slapping his porcelain skin. 

“Oi. My eyes are up here you know.” His face bloomed roses as he realized what it had looked like from your perspective. Stumbling over his words, he tried quickly to excuse himself. The next words out of his mouth satiated your rage completely. 

“It’s not what you think. Just trying to figure out whether you’re a Marlo Thomas or Phoebe Buffay fan.” Whatever words you had been expecting, it certainly wasn’t these. Instead of swearing off men forever, you were wondering whether you had just met your soulmate. Not only was he a fellow 90s kid, but he also knew one of the original leading ladies of primetime TV. 

“And if I say both?” You tease, wondering whether his words would be as clumsy as his actions.  Instead, he was surprisingly smooth, and despite his earlier mishaps, his entire demeanor had changed from a gangly awkward youth to someone comfortable with witty repartee. 

“Then I would say that we need to meet up again to fully discuss the pros and cons of each of the shows. This is a serious undertaking and we can’t be rash,” though his words suggest gravity, the expression on his face indicates that he is joking. 

“Same time next week? And maybe next time, I won’t become your personal coffee dispenser.”

Never in your life would you have thought to yourself that the most obscure t-shirt in your wardrobe would be the reason you fell in love, yet here you were cuddled on the couch, tracing words on the paper as warm breaths caressed your neck. 

“You done reading baby?” You nod your head once, shift backwards to envelop yourself even more in Namjoon’s embrace. At his words, you put down your book and try to be more present in the moment with the love of your life.

It was a Friday night, almost 2 years to the day that Namjoon had the great misfortune of spilling coffee and inadvertently staring at your chest. You had the great fortune of meeting a cute, nerdy, multi-talented guy who enjoyed the same old tv shows at you, and remembered the same microscopic details that you did.

 It had gotten to the point where none of your friends wanted to hang out with you anymore, the two of you finishing each other’s movie quotes and winning incessantly at trivia. But you and Namjoon couldn’t be happier much to your friends’ chagrin. And despite their grumbles, you knew that they were happy that the two of you had found someone so perfectly matched. 

You smiled at the memory as Namjoon turned the page for the both of you. It had become a tradition; both of you cuddled up on the couch under the blanket that you had gifted him the first Christmas. There was always coffee on the small table, the dark color contrasting against matching couple mugs. 

It was enough to make someone vomit, but you didn’t mind, and neither did he. In fact, the two of you would often try to outdo each other on the mug front, and you were never at a loss for a clean cup for a warm beverage. Some might call you hoarders, but you and Joon maintained that you were collectors. 

You finally had the man of your dreams, romantic, nerdy, and caring all wrapped into one being and sprinkled with a dash of clumsy for good measure.

“I guess the world was wrong Joonie?” Your boyfriend lifted his eyes from the book, glasses allowing you to see the shades of brown that painted his irises. He gave you a quizzical look that made you giggle - it wasn’t often that you were able to confuse him. 

“Good things don’t come in threes. They come in fours.”

“Spilling my coffee on you was a good thing? You know, y/n, some might call that a kink.” His dimples are out full force, softening your heart and the gentle smack to his arm.

“You know, Joon, for someone so smart, you’re pretty dumb sometimes,” you want to make him sweat a little, but you are unable to keep a straight face.

“I mean you.” 

#hyunglinenetwork #btsguild #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x you #bts cafe au #bts fluff #oneshot

[thetownwithpep]

Out of Control [Riverdale!Jughead x Reader]

“hey can you do a imagine of jughead where the reader is having a panic attack and it is like that teen wolf scene in 3x11 where lydia kiss stiles? thx”

Done and done! This is my first imagine on Tumblr, so I hope it’s okay. :) I apologize for any grammatical errors I missed! And feedback is always appreciated. 

Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Word Count: 1462

—————————————————————————————————-

Do this. Do that. Turn your focus here. I need your help over there. Why didn’t you do better on this quiz? We need your help decorating the dance. Why didn’t you come to my party Friday night?

Why can’t you do better?

Why can’t you be better?

It felt as if someone had a vice grip on your mind–the pressure from your thoughts and the surrounding sensories building. The day had started out alright, you were a little low on sleep, but nothing you couldn’t handle. With your planner by your side and a to-do list written out, everything would be okay.

Until third period, when you couldn’t find your planner and suddenly, you’d felt as if you had lost control of everything. You attempted to calm your racing mind by writing and re-writing your list of things to do on various sticky notes and blank sheets of paper, but to no avail. Writing things down helped you to keep everything in order, but it had to be in a planner to work.

It had to be neat and precise to give you a sense of control.

And without it anchoring your nerves, your thoughts ran wild. Worries about deadlines, doubts about interactions with friends, and fears of not having your next step planned out flooded your brain, filling it up to the brim–but you refused to allow any to leak out. Throughout the school day, you make sure to maintain a composed appearance in front of your friends and classmates; smiling when needed and speaking up when called on. Even though it was a battle against yourself to avoid crumpling into a wired ball in the middle of the hallway.

To the most of the school, you were fine.

To one of your best friends, you were not.

Jughead had been keeping an eye on you since he saw you freeze up in third period. He’d known you long enough to realize what the furrowing of your brow and the drawing in of your limbs meant–panic. He was also wise enough not to bring it up in school. Rather choosing to remain by your side as much as he could, trying to deduce the root of your distress and how he could help fix it.

You could tell what Jug was doing, as soon as he began to silently walk with you to your different classes, whether or not he attended them with you. It brought a slight sense of comfort in knowing that someone was aware that something was off, without you having to outright tell them. Jughead had always been someone you could turn to in times of need and vise versa. Talking about the whirlwind of emotions that had a tendency to fill your heart and mind, was never something that you were very skilled at. So, having the one person who you wanted to know how you felt, already know with no words spoken, was a gift all unto itself.

Of course, today was the day your teachers decided to assign all of the big term assignments, and each one pushed you closer to the edge. Relief flooded your system when you heard the final dismissal bell ring. Go home. Do homework.

Simple enough. That you could handle.

Jughead joined you on your walk home, the fresh air and blue skies cooling your nerves ever so slightly. You and he walked side by side, your eyes fixated on the sidewalk beneath your feet, while Jug’s were focused on you. He wanted to ask if you wanted to grab a bite a Pop’s, for his stomach sounded like an overprotective mother bear, but he knew that you’d say no. What you needed was to follow whatever plan had accumulated in your mind in order to regain a sense of control.

And so, he decided on grabbing some food at your house; it wasn’t unusual for him to hang out there anyhow. The trees that were lining your street casted cool shadows over you, which gave your skin a break from the vibrant sun that was out that afternoon. Pushing open the front door, you were happy to see your house just the way you’d left it–one less thing to worry about. Your parents wouldn’t be home for a couple more hours, meaning you would be granted with peace and quiet as your thoughts fell back into place.

Jughead followed you up to your room, making sure to leave the door slightly open, and took no time in flopping on your bed while you settled down at your computer desk. Placing your backpack neatly to your right, you pulled out that night’s homework as your laptop booted up. Though you were still on edge, you were able to focus a bit more now that you were in your space. Pulling out the sheet of paper that listed your homework, you began to silently estimate how long each assignment would take.

Math would take you around forty-five minutes, another twenty minutes for history reading, and probably another hour for your English writing assign–

Freezing your train of thought, you glanced up at your laptop when you didn’t hear the usual melody that played as it turned on. The screen was black. Wierd. You swore you had pressed the power button. Shrugging it off, you pushed the on-button and waited.

Nothing.

You pressed it again, holding it longer this time.

Blackness.

You checked to make sure it was plugged in while you were at school, it was, meaning it should have a full charge. You pressed the power button one more time, but to no avail. Your laptop wasn’t turning on. This… this couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not today.

The logical side of your mind was telling you that you could head to the library, or a friend’s house to finish typing the English assignment, but, at that moment, all rational thoughts went out the window. Your neck and shoulders tensed and you could feel your toes curling into the soft carpet underneath your feet. Forehead twisting in distress, you rested your elbows on your desk and your head in your hands. The room was silent, but the silence was too loud. Your fingers curled into your scalp, nails digging into your skin, trying to keep the tears from escaping.

Breathe, you thought. Breathe.

But, soon breathing turned into hyperventilating, which drew Jughead’s attention away from the book he had been reading. He quietly marked his page and put the novel to the side. Scooting forward on your bed, he asked, “How are you feeling?”

The thick lump in your throat took a couple of swallows to get down, before you managed to softly sputter, “Completely out of control.”

Jug stood from his spot on your bed and walked to your side, careful not to touch you because he knew at that moment, physical contact was the last thing you wanted. He grabbed ahold of the back of your desk chair, pulling you away from the laptop and spinning you so that you were facing him. Slowly, you lowered your hands from your face, your breathing becoming increasingly ragged as you attempted to steady it.

Jughead’s eyes locked with yours, “(Y/N), I want you to breathe in time with my counting. Okay?”

You nodded.

“One. Two. Three.” In.

“Four. Five. Six.” Out.

“One. Two. Three.” In.

“Four. Five. Six.” Out.

You could feel your heart rate slow as you found yourself gaining control over something once more–your breathing. Closing your eyes, you inhaled and exhaled in time with Jug’s voice. This continued for a few moments before you felt the intrusive thoughts knocking at your mind once more. Eyes flying open, you stared at Jughead, trying to convey to him that you required another distraction–and quickly–without opening your mouth.  

He got the message and hurriedly racked his brain for something–anything–that would make your mind go blank. And while he didn’t physically desire to so, he lurched forward and pressed his lips to yours anyway. He could feel your entire form go rigid with shock, and he knew that his tactic had done the trick. His lips remained on yours for another instant before they retreated. Jughead didn’t fear you getting the entirely wrong impression.

He did have feelings for you in a romantic sense–though, that moment may not be the best for revealing how his feelings went past friendship–just not a physical desire. You knew that was how he was, though, which is one of the main reasons the kiss took you completely off guard.

You blinked, “But… you-”

“It distracted you, didn’t it?”

You swallowed and gave a slight nod.

Jug smiled, “Then my plan worked and was worth it. Now, I’m famished. Let’s head to Pop’s.”

—————————————————————————————————-

Tag List: @impalalalala

#riverdale #jughead imagine #riverdale imagines #jughead jones #jughead #imagine #archie comics

[cryptixcreations]

Familiarity

Fandom: The Shadow (pulps)

Summary: After Zemba, Monsieur Robeq has some important observations to share with The Shadow.

Rating: Gen

Wordcount: ~3800

After reading #91: Zemba I was very concerned about Harry’s mental state and needed to write something. It took awhile but here is that something.

Also briefly references #71: The Plot Master

Read on Ao3

Hardly had Harry and Cliff left their cab in front of the Hotel Princesse before a second cab screeched to the curb behind them. From it alighted the tall, tuxedo-clad figure that they had, until that very hour, identified as Herbert Balliol and – more importantly – as The Shadow.

“Gentlemen!” Etienne Robeq called after them. He no longer pretended at Balliol’s English accent.

The agents paused and half-turned. Neither matched his smile.

Unperturbed, Robeq said, “I am glad I caught you. You are welcome to the suite for another day, it is paid through. That is the least I can do to make up for my subterfuge. I only ask that you pass a final message to your master, if you can, that Etienne Robeq desires a word with him before you leave Paris.”

“That can be arranged,” spoke a voice from behind Robeq. He whirled. Both he and the agents stared at the figure that stepped into the light.

Somehow, in the brief period between leaving the Palais and now, The Shadow had shed all signs of Zemba. His calm face now corresponded to no specific identity, but there was no mistaking the keen glitter of his eyes or the hawkishness of his profile.

He gestured with a left hand from which a fire opal glowed like a live ember. Robeq followed the silent instruction. He fell into step beside The Shadow. Tall and slender, impeccably tuxedoed, the two of them bore a superficial similarity; but there was a catlike smoothness to the way The Shadow moved that even the celebrated Robeq couldn’t match.

The lights of the Princesse were well behind them before The Shadow broke the silence. “Does this matter concern Gaspard Zemba?” He spoke in fluent French, and Robeq responded in kind.

“No. It concerns one of your men.”

The Shadow’s sharp gaze pierced him. His voice carried a steely edge to match. Robeq nearly flinched.

“How so?”

“They’re in no danger,” Robeq quickly assured. “I simply want to discuss Harry Vincent.”

The unsettling gaze left him. “I already know everything concerning Harry Vincent.”

“Then you are aware the boy is in love with you?”

If Robeq had expected a reaction, he was due for disappointment. The Shadow did not miss a beat when he replied, “He thinks he is in love with me.”

“What is the difference?”

“Love requires familiarity. I will protect my agents to the fullness of my power, and do what is needed to ensure their absolute trust in me, but I am not familiar with them. He knows little more about me than you do, now.”

Robeq nodded thoughtfully. “In that case, I misspoke. My apologies. The boy wants to be in love with you.” The Shadow did not reply, so Robeq continued. “It is clearer to me, now, why he looked at me the way he did – when he thought I was you. I admit I began to feel jealous. You should have seen–”

“He is fascinated by an idea,” The Shadow interrupted. “It will pass in time.”

“Given enough time, all things do,” Robeq acknowledged. “Even love cannot follow into the grave.”

A streetlight up ahead flickered.

“Emotional entanglements are messy and unstable. I would not willingly jeopardize my best agent for anything so puerile.”

Robeq laughed. Again The Shadow’s eyes bored into him, intense and inscrutable. Again the streetlight flickered.

“Something funny?”

“Yes. You. An interesting contrast – you are willing to risk his life, but not his heart, when he would gladly trust you with both and more. But you know that – you are, as you said, familiar with everything concerning Harry Vincent. Perhaps it is not for his sake that you worry?”

The Shadow stopped walking. The faulty streetlight gave out. Sudden gloom nearly swallowed him whole, all but an indistinct silhouette and eyes that burned like twin stars through the darkness.

“There is much you do not understand about the situation.”

It took every ounce of Robeq’s willpower not to shudder. “I am sure there is. I would not seek to interfere in such a private matter – I would not even mention it, you understand, except that I think I may have given the poor boy a little false hope by my deception.”

“And this is your attempt to minimize the harm?” The Shadow asked coolly.

Robeq shrugged. “I suppose it is.” He glanced at the luminous dial of his watch. “I must get back to the Palais. I left Monsieur le Prefet rather suddenly in order to catch you. One last thing only. You don’t ask for my advice–”

“I don’t.”

“–But I will give it anyway,” Robeq persisted. “I cannot tell you how to feel, but Vincent, he is a good man, and he is devoted to you. Speak to him. He deserves that much. If nothing else, grant his hopes the mercy of a quick death. Ah, but it is a tragedy, to say such things in a city of such romance…”

“Are you finished?”

“I am. Farewell, Monsieur L'Ombre. Until our paths might cross again.”

“Goodbye, Monsieur Robeq.”

Bright eyes watched Robeq depart. The streetlight flickered back to life. Even without the enshrouding darkness, The Shadow’s expression was unreadable.

In a fifth-floor suite of the Hotel Princesse, Cliff and Harry set about packing their trunks. Whether they were staying only one night more or two, they mutually agreed they would need but little, and it was always advisable to be ready to move out on short notice.

While they gathered their things, Cliff cast glances at Harry out of the corner of his eye. Finally, after an uncomfortable minute, he ventured to break the silence. “Robeq must’ve took a hell of a run-out to get here right on our heels.”

“Must have,” Harry responded. Cliff was surprised by the hollowness in his voice.

He tried again. “Do you think something happened after we left the palace?”

“Maybe.”

Cliff didn’t understand it. Normally, after a mission like this, Harry would be excited, downright voluble as he theorized on what they missed and how The Shadow must have pulled it off. This case especially was still rife with mystery. Harry should have been chattering ceaselessly. It was occasionally annoying, but Cliff would take that any day over this dead air.

One more try. Cliff forced a chuckle. “Say, that was a hell of a change the chief pulled off on the way here, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

Cliff winced. Down to one mechanical syllable – and over one of The Shadow’s skills, a subject Harry was usually impossible to shut up about. Cliff let the silence simmer for a time while he mulled it over.

Softly, he said, “It wasn’t your fault, you know.” He didn’t wait for a response. “Falling for Robeq’s ruse, I mean, and following him instead of the chief. I know you noticed inconsistencies, but that doesn’t make you responsible for not figuring it out. If the chief had wanted to end it he could’ve done it at any time. We’re both in the clear.”

A beat followed after he finished, then, “I know, Cliff.” That was all. Cliff took the hint. They finished packing in silence.

Buying into Robeq’s ruse was only a minor factor in Harry’s melancholy. That they may have inadvertently upset The Shadow’s plans certainly bothered him, but that was a concern whenever he did anything that wasn’t strictly according to orders. That alone wasn’t enough to drive him so deeply into his own thoughts.

What was eating him up inside was just how badly he’d wanted the lie to be real. Riding in a cab with The Shadow, working alongside him, being able to watch him in action, even just being complimented over an independent plan – it had all felt so special.

Now, knowing that none of it was The Shadow at all, Harry had realized just how pathetically little it took to make him happy – and worse, that the real Shadow would never even go that far.

He should have known better.

He had the awful feeling that he was going to break down crying sometime that night, when the weight of his own miserable foolishness finally crashed down on him. For the moment, he just felt numb.

The phone rang. Seeing that Harry was undressing for bed – and hardly even seemed to register the ringing – Cliff answered it. He went stock-still the moment he heard the caller’s voice. Harry only noticed when Cliff spoke. “Instructions received.” A moment later, the phone was being handed to Harry.

It didn’t matter how many times he heard The Shadow’s whisper, the first sound of that grave hiss still ignited his nerves. Harry listened tensely. He repeated an address, then, “Instructions received.” The line clicked. Harry put the handset down slowly.

Cliff watched him, equal parts curious and concerned. “I’m guessing you didn’t get your time to yourself. I’m free to leave for home tomorrow or the day after.”

Harry shook his head. “I’m–” He paused, found his voice, and started again. “I’m to take a cab to that address and then walk from there toward the river. That’s all I know.”

“I’ll wait up.”

“No, you don’t–”

“Harry.”

Harry sighed as he finished re-dressing. He managed to offer Cliff a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Cliff.”

Cliff smiled back. “Hey – maybe it’s something good. Backup for routing one last caveau.” He made a broad gesture as if to indicate the myriad other examples that were escaping him.

“Maybe.” Harry didn’t sound hopeful.

Harry found the place he had been directed to with little trouble. It was simply a riverside pier. Naturally, at that time of night, it was poorly populated. At first glance it looked wholly deserted. The single humanlike figure, tall and thin and perfectly immobile before the barrier, seemed to be a trick of the dim lighting reflecting off the river. Harry knew better.

He had no doubt that The Shadow heard his approach. His footsteps on the wooden pier seemed to pound in his own ears. Still the figure ahead showed not even a waver. Harry felt himself tensing up more with every step. When he was within two yards, he had to stop. He didn’t dare speak.

The perfect stillness broke into easy motion, as though the scene were a movie that had simply been paused on a single frame. The Shadow spread his arms. One hand rested on the railing. The other, the left hand, beckoned. The flash of the girasol soothed Harry’s nerves enough to break his paralysis. He closed the distance until he stood at his master’s left hand.

The Shadow turned his bright eyes on Harry. “Report.”

Harry recalled the same order being given earlier that night, and again felt the sting of his own stupidity. This time he understood. With his eyes downcast, Harry began his report, starting from the time he and Cliff arrived in Paris.

He spoke automatically, only pausing to collect his thoughts, or when his voice wavered as he spoke of ‘Balliol’. He made no excuses. As much as Cliff had tried to reassure him, Harry couldn’t help but to shoulder the blame for their following Robeq. He never said the words, but the implication was throughout: He should have known better.

Once Harry’s report reached the Palais de Vraillard, he fell silent. He waited for… what? Admonishment? No, The Shadow didn’t reprimand, any more than he praised. His disappointment had to be inferred as much as his satisfaction. Harry had gotten very good at inferring from his master’s silences.

“Have you eaten?”

Whatever Harry had been waiting for, that wasn’t it. He blinked. “What?”

The Shadow calmly repeated his question.

The second time, it clicked. Even having just told of Cliff winning the dinner coin-toss and their heading for the Palais as soon as he returned, Harry had already forgotten that he hadn’t had dinner. Food was the furthest thing from his mind. He shook his head.

The lithe figure beside him moved away from the railing. “Come.”

Harry could only follow.

The cab ride that followed was a surreal experience.

For the second time in as many hours, Harry Vincent was riding in a taxi beside The Shadow. Except it wasn’t the second time, it was the first, and this time the experience wasn’t shared with Cliff.

The steady, profiled features were there, but they were distinctly hawk-like now, and the eyes glittered even in the gloom. (Harry couldn’t look at those features without wondering how he had ever mistaken Robeq for The Shadow. The pretended Balliol couldn’t hold a candle to his true master.)

Long, slender hands remained folded atop one knee, the left hand uppermost. The girasol caught the slightest passing light and threw it back as sparks of blue and red and purple. Harry had to keep looking at it. For all its strange properties, that magnificent fire opal seemed the only thing that was beyond a shadow of a doubt real. Only The Shadow wore that token. No imposter could hope to even come close to matching it. Harry couldn’t trust his own senses, but he could trust in the ever-shifting colors of that stone.

Still, he kept expecting to see Cliff at the other window, or to catch a glimpse of blue-tinted spectacles, or to simply wake up. The confidence that he had felt before, riding into danger beside the false Shadow, was nowhere to be found. Bewilderment made for a poor substitute.

His first realization that the cab had stopped was when firm hands gripped his upper arms and drew him to his feet. The grip remained on one arm, and Harry welcomed its steadying influence, both physically and in its familiarity. He let himself be led into a warmly-lit building, a small restaurant, and to a table set into a curtained-off niche. With the heavy curtains drawn, he was once again alone in a small space with–

–with The Shadow. The real Shadow. The Shadow, seated across from him, a slight smile fixed on his thin lips. With his left hand he slid a menu across the table.

“You’ll feel better after you’ve eaten.”

The hand remained on the tabletop, the girasol ever in view, as if he knew that Harry was grounding himself with it. (Of course he knew. The Shadow always knew.) Harry opened the menu without really seeing it.

Harry couldn’t recall later what he ordered. He vaguely recalled savory spices and something heavy and filling. The Shadow, however, ordered coffee and a dessert, and that part Harry remembered vividly. A small, round panna cotta in a bright red sauce, decorated with sugared berries and shavings of dark chocolate. It occurred to Harry that he had never seen The Shadow eat. Even in that action his neatness and precision put normal people to shame. Harry’s self-consciousness was not helped by the distinct feeling that The Shadow was watching him in turn, even though his gaze was always diverted when Harry darted glances at him.

(Actually, Harry had seen The Shadow eat, but this was the first time he did so knowing it was The Shadow. The connection between his occasional friend Lamont Cranston and his employer had escaped him, for the moment.)

Afterward, sipping at a coffee that The Shadow ordered for him, Harry had to admit he did feel better. The situation was still unprecedented, but his mind was no longer whirling, and he didn’t have to look at the girasol quite as often to reaffirm his handle on reality.

“Monsieur Robeq went out of his way to speak with me tonight.” The Shadow’s tone was calm, but Harry still stiffened at the first syllable. “What is your opinion of Robeq?”

Harry pursed his lips. “Monsieur Robeq seems to be a competent detective.”

“I asked your opinion of Robeq, not your assessment of his skills.” A note of amusement softened any bite the comment might have had.

Harry took a sip while he tried to find the right words to convey his feelings towards the imposter.

“I dislike him.”

His answer was met with a whispered laugh that raised gooseflesh on his arms. “Indeed. And before the revelation in the palace?”

Harry hesitated. He stared at the tabletop. “I thought he was you.”

“Comparatively, then.”

The wood grain didn’t line up perfectly where the pieces had been attached. Harry’s eyes followed lines that abruptly stopped and picked up in just slightly the wrong place. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, tried again and again failed. What was he supposed to say?

The familiar glimmer of the girasol flashed at the edge of his vision, breaking in on his reverie. The Shadow’s left hand was urging his mug toward the tabletop. Harry realized his hands were trembling. He set the mug down.

“That was an unfair question,” The Shadow said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “I apologize. Monsieur Robeq worried his impersonation may have done you harm. Clearly his concerns were not unfounded.” He considered for a moment. “You preferred Robeq’s Balliol–” Harry opened his mouth to protest. “–in certain ways, for certain actions. Enough that it was crushing to discover the actions were not mine.”

Harry closed his mouth.

“That distresses you. You’re torn between your loyalty to who I am and your desire for me to be otherwise. To be more as Robeq portrayed me.”

Harry couldn’t bring himself to nod. Confirmation seemed unnecessary, anyway. The Shadow knew.

Another contemplative silence.

“Robeq is of the opinion that you are in love with me.”

Harry’s hands curled into white-knuckled fists; he felt the blood drain out of his face and heard his heartbeat pound in his ears. He stared across the table with wide, panic-stricken eyes. The Shadow wasn’t looking at him. He was turned to the side; those bright eyes were fixed on the heavy curtain defending their privacy. He continued as though he hadn’t noticed Harry’s reaction.

“Should he be right, it is only natural you should have felt encouraged by indications of a more open and demonstrative attitude. You have worked closely with me in the past – even attended me while injured – but there have always been certain limitations to our interactions. Nevertheless, it is not unthinkable that I might relax those limitations, particularly in this new setting. Finding that I had not would, naturally, be disappointing. Doubly so if Robeq’s conclusion is correct.”

Harry slowly unclenched as he listened to The Shadow’s measured voice. Relief at the lack of reproach or judgment was quickly supplanted by confusion, and then realization. The Shadow was very deliberately not noticing Harry’s responses, very deliberately remaining vague, very deliberately emphasizing the if. He was giving Harry a chance to deny it. In the midst of his reassurances, he had left Harry an opening to shoot down Robeq’s 'opinion’ and end the conversation there.

Harry’s mouth was dry. He took a sip of coffee.

The Shadow continued. “If he is correct, I must point out that a closer relationship would be highly inadvisable. The limitations I place on my dealings are not flexible. You had a demonstration of that tonight; you have had clearer demonstrations in the past. My relationships are limited by necessity. The more you – or anyone – might know about me, the more danger there is, for myself and for others. Lives would be jeopardized. It is not an environment conducive to… familiarity.”

At length The Shadow fell silent. His left hand flexed long fingers against the tabletop. He still didn’t look at Harry. The way out was still on the table, if Harry wanted it.

A closer relationship would be inadvisable, dangerous, limited, difficult… but not out of the question.

“May I speak frankly?” Harry surprised himself with his steadiness.

“Of course.”

Harry took a deep breath. His nerve would break if he looked up, he knew it would, so instead he spoke toward his coffee mug. “I swore my life to you. I’ve never regretted it. Robeq is right. I am in love with you. I consider myself–” He blushed and soldiered on. “I consider myself yours, body and soul. What that entails I’ve left to you. If– if we can never have anything more than we do now, I can accept that. As long as you’re a part of my life, I’ll be happy.” He licked his dry lips. “But I did hope– I have hoped. With Robeq, that hope felt… a little more within reach.”

Moments stretched agonizingly long between them. Harry still didn’t dare look up. His heart hammered.

Finally, The Shadow spoke, low and softer than Harry had ever heard. “It’s impossible for me to give you anything like a normal relationship. You know that.”

Harry had tried to keep his hopes from rising too high, but still they had a long way to plummet, and they carried his heart down on the way. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I understand.”

“Do you?”

Too much significance in those two little words. Harry looked up, finally, to find The Shadow watching him. His eyes flashed as they met Harry’s.

Oh.

A hesitant smile began to brighten Harry’s face.

“I understand,” he repeated. This time, he did.

A nod. “Think this over. Not just now, tonight, but in the days to come. I can’t make you any promises for the future. I can’t promise much more than I give you now. All that I can promise is that this will not be easy. As much as…”

The thought hung unfinished. A soft sigh hissed from The Shadow’s lips. He placed his hand over Harry’s, lacing their fingers together. The girasol glinted from between Harry’s fingers. He stared at it in wonder. The Shadow considered their hands as well before he spoke again.

“I allotted five days to catching Zemba. That leaves tomorrow free. I should like to spend it with you.”

Harry broke into a laugh that was half joy and half relief. Grinning, not trusting his voice, he nodded eagerly.

The whispered chuckle that responded was all pleasure.

Harry was light-headed but steady as they left the restaurant; nevertheless, The Shadow’s hand lingered on his back, conducting him as far as the open door of a cab.

“Get some sleep,” The Shadow ordered. “I will meet you in the lobby of the Princesse in the morning. Remember, think seriously on what I have said.”

He watched as the cab pulled away, smiled slightly as he saw Harry looking back. When intervening traffic broke the line of vision, he took the opportunity to slip into darkness. The smile faded. For once, his eyes betrayed uncertainty. Alley walls echoed back an apprehensive laugh.

He’d just agreed to change everything with the most important person in his life. He couldn’t pretend that his own selfish desires had nothing to do with it.

All he could hope was that he wasn’t about to ruin it all.

#the shadow #harry vincent #the shadow/harry vincent #fanfic #food mention #light angst #also shads has epk powers jus roll with it

[aion-rsa]

One Piece: The 10 Best Episodes

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Eiichiro Oda’s One Piece has become one of the most popular anime and manga series of all time. The series has been running for over two decades and accumulated a staggering amount of episodes that puts it nearly at the 1000-episode mark. One Piece joyfully indulges in many of the aspects that make action shounen anime series so addictive and fun. 

Despite the series’ influence on the rest of anime, it’s hard to maintain consistent quality after so much time. The One Piece anime is notorious for exhaustive spans of “filler,” and the vast amount of content can easily intimidate some from ever checking out the series. Funimation recently announced that their dub of One Piece has resumed and so there’s never been a better time to jump into the series. To help make the anime feel a little less impenetrable, here are some of the very best episodes that One Piece has to offer.

“Thank You, Merry! Snow Falls over the Parting Sea!”

“Thank You, Merry!” is easily the emotional apex of One Piece and you don’t have to even be a fan of the series to break down into tears over this touching, genuine story. The Straw Hat Pirates are off on another journey, when they notice that their ship, the Going Merry, begins to crack and fall into disrepair. This prompts Luffy and company to realize that it’s time to say goodbye to their first vessel and they hold a cathartic Viking funeral for the ship. This is such a beautiful example of what the strength of One Piece’s characters can accomplish. The final moment where the spirit of Merry apologizes to the pirates for not being able to take them further on their journey—as if she did something wrong—is just heart wrenching. 

“Eliminated Friends – The Final Day of the Straw Hat Crew”

It’s very easy for anime to fall into ruts or become repetitive, especially when it comes to how the battles play out. One Piece is guilty of this too, but “Eliminated Friends” is an excellent example of defying expectations. The Straw Pirates find themselves up against the Shichibukai and one of their members, Kuma, has an overpowered ability to slap people away into the sky to an undetermined fate. 

“Eliminated Friends” has Luffy slowly watch all of his team members get flung away. Not only is there a real sense of dread, but Luffy also has a breakdown over how he’s not able to save anyone. It’s the kind of vulnerable moment that shounen anime heroes typically don’t show. It also ends on a fantastic cliffhanger that really messes with the audience.

“Everything Is to Protect My Friends! Second Gear Activated!”

One Piece is an anime that features plenty of over the top abilities and techniques, but much like how the initial appearance of Super Saiyans is pivotal for Dragon Ball Z, it’s a very significant moment when Luffy first activates Second Gear mode. Technically, Second Gear is achieved at the end of the previous episode, but “Second Gear Activated!” is pure action as Luffy’s enhanced skills and strength are put to the test. Luffy’s powered up fight against Blueno is extremely satisfying and looks amazing. The juxtaposition of all of this with the other pirates’ fight with the Franky Family just works so well.

“A Fist of Divine Speed! Another Gear Four Application Activated!”

The later episodes of One Piece are steeped in a number of issues, but they’re still able to tap into greatness on occasion and remind audiences how exciting the action and characters can be. Luffy faces a difficult opponent with Katakuri and he pushes Luffy to show off an intense new form, Fourth Gear: Snakeman. The whole Snakeman transformation and its rapid fight style against Katakuri is a sight to behold. It’s a great battle and it’s particularly satisfying due to how evenly matched they are, which is perfectly illustrated with the explosive conclusion of the episode.

“Say You Want to Live! We Are Your Friends!”

“Say You Want to Live!” is a fantastic example of how far the Straw Hats are willing to go for each other. Robin begins to panic that Luffy and his crew will abandon her due to the baggage that she brings along with her. Luffy in fact does the contrary and declares war against the World Government in defense of Robin. The Straw Hats are willing to ruin their reputation to the whole world, just to help out one of their own.”We Are Your Friends!” also contains another one of the most heartbreaking moments in the entire series when Robin goes into her grueling “I want to live,” speech. It’s a great reminder of how strong the development of these characters is during the show’s start. It’s a beautiful ending.

“A Heartbreaking Duel! Luffy vs Sanji! – Part 2”

Episodes 807 and 808 are packaged together as a one-hour special, but it’s the second half that really stands out. Luffy and company have faced off against many horrendous villains, but one of the most difficult fights involves a clash between Luffy and one of his own, Sanji. Sanji gets pulled in two directions and decides to embrace his royal heritage and leave the Straw Hats’ grubby existence for a more luxurious and respectful tenure with the Big Mom Pirates. 

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The battle between Sanji and Luffy is one-sided, but what hits the most here is Luffy’s dedication to his teammate. Luffy’s speech at the end about how he’ll starve himself and remain immobile until Sanji rejoins him because he needs him to become the Pirate King is just a brutal scene. Sanji’s eventual breakdown shows that he also cares and that this situation isn’t pleasurable for anyone. The use of the song “Memories” turns it into even more of an emotional onslaught.

“Fists Full of Emotion! Luffy Unleashes Gatling with All His Might!”

The Enies Lobby Arc in One Piece is easily one of the most captivating saga of episodes that the anime pulls off. “Fists Full of Emotion!” acts as a major climax of that chaos as all of the Straw Hat Pirates have their hands full. Most of the crew have to contend with Marines, who also have Devil Fruit powers, but Luffy meets his match against Lucci. Luffy is on the outs and it’s not until Usopp delivers some inspiring words that help him get back on his feet. It’s an important moment between Luffy and Usopp, but it results in the unveiling of Luffy’s Gum-Gum Jet Gatling technique, which finally gives him the necessary advantage to beat Lucci.

“End of the Fishman Empire! Nami’s My Friend!”

The earliest episodes of One Piece have a real charm as the anime is still finding its footing and establishing many things that become staples of the series. “Nami’s My Friend” is just an excellent episode of One Piece that delivers on the action and finds a powerful emotional core to ground it all. Luffy’s battle against Arlong takes an unexpected turn when he learns that the fishman has been abusing Nami to produce maps for his team. The evidence of the pain that Nami’s experienced throws Luffy into such a rage that he demolishes Arlong Park. It’s an episode that shows what drives Luffy and it also marks Nami’s re-entry into the Straw Hats, which sets the pirates off into the next dangerous stage of their journey. 

“Luffy Vs. Usopp! Collision of Two Men’s Pride!”

Episodes 235 and 236 tell the same story of the dangerous rift between Luffy and Usopp, but it’s the latter of the two that features the fallout and consequences over all of this. Usopp shares a deep connection with the Going Merry, so Luffy’s announcement that they can’t repair the vessel and need to get a new one is viewed as a personal affront by Usopp. The fight that follows feels like the first real schism between Luffy and his friends and it teaches him the burden that a captain has to bear. This is a battle that neither friend wants to engage in and it messes both of them up for a while as a result.

“I Will Surpass You! Rain Falls in Alabasta”

One Piece has devoted hundreds of episodes to battles between Luffy and some new threat, but “I Will Surpass You!” is just a good episode that cuts to the chase and features impressive fights and attractive animation. Luffy currently has to contend against Crocodile and their battle is set within some ruins, which add plenty of ambiance to the altercation. Luffy gets very creative with his various abilities to help overpower Crocodile, which makes for a fun fight. Amidst the carnage, there’s also a deeper message present in this one as Vivi repeatedly tries to emphasize that violence is not the solution to problems.

One Piece can currently be streamed on Funimation.com, Hulu, and Netflix, in various capacities

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