#(instead of just doing their usual routine and magically appearing/disappearing for the scene)

[my-current-obsession]

I played and enjoyed Rune Factory 5 well enough when it came out, and I do believe I like and defend it more than a lot of people. But honestly, trying to go back to the game now, after having played so much more of RF4 than I had at the time? It's difficult.

IMO one of the best aspects of the Rune Factory series is the replayability. It has a simple game loop that can suck you in, while also allowing players a lot of choice in their game in regards to what monster allies they get, which townspeople they actually take into dungeons, and of course, who you romance.

But as much as I DO like the characters and relationships in RF5, it's just NOT FUN to replay. All the problems that I had but pushed past in my initial playthrough are still there, as well as a lot more problems I have now that I know and can better compare it to RF4.

I could go on about all the issues the game has and how outside a few nice quality-of-life changes, RF4 is better in nearly every way, much more immersive and lively, but plenty of comments like that already exist, both here and on other sites.

Mostly I'm just... sad about it. I really DO enjoy the characters and was looking forward to playing the game much more optimally than my sloppy first run where I took FOREVER to get a love interest seeing as I didn't realize they were guaranteed to reject me if I had any side story going on (because the confession is also considered a side story) and I was always going right from one character's events to another until finally exhausting all of them. But I can only force myself to play for like 2-3 hour bursts before I have to stop and do something else.

Ideally I'd like to experience romancing and marrying all the characters in this game, but I genuinely don't know if I can get myself to play the game enough to beat it and romance a small handful of characters ONE more time, let alone several. It just makes my frustrations and complaints pile up until I feel like going back to RF4 instead, which solves nothing when what I yearn for is a better game with THIS cast of love interests. Instead of the wonderful (not perfect, but still great) game that I've already seen nearly everything there is to see.

[aria0fgold]

Glittering Red Rose

Akira wasn't really expecting anything all that exciting from his trip outside of Shibuya, perhaps just the usual of walking around the streets and alleyways, finding new stores to shop at or even eavesdroppi— accidentally listening in on bystanders talking nearby. It was just the usual routine of killing time while waiting for the most anticipated day after stealing the treasure of their target, in this instance, waiting for the day Medjed “cleanses the world.” Although it wasn't Medjed that the Phantom Thieves of Hearts stole the treasure of. It was someone else, one who is more than skilled enough to stop such a large hacker group.

So here they are waiting for Futaba to recover, specifically here Akira is climbing the stairs of a random building he snuck into all while carrying a bag that has a cat poking his head out. It wasn't for any particular reason, aside from the fact that they heard a commotion nearby and wanted to have a better look only to be stopped by the overwhelming number of police officers surrounding the perimeter. So what other way to have a better view of the situation but on a tall building's rooftop?

“That was the first time I've seen so many cops around a single area, what do you think they were after?” Morgana tilted his head, curious and excitement evident in his voice.

“Hmm… Not sure.” Akira mumbled as he neared the top of the stairs.

“They must be even worse than a mafia boss like Kaneshiro. I bet if the Phantom Thieves stole the treasure of someone like that, our popularity will soar!”

Akira chuckled at the thought of that, their popularity were already steadily rising thanks to targeting an elusive mafia boss that even the police were struggling to capture, but if they targeted someone even worse than Kaneshiro, their fame will surely skyrocket then.

With that thought in mind, Akira's steps grew a bit lighter, excited to see exactly who was at the center of all those cops, he pushed the rooftop door open, it was already slightly ajar.

He wasn't really expecting anything all that exciting from his trip, he especially, wasn't expecting to see anyone eye-catching when he pushed that door. It was strange to see it already open, but perhaps an employee simply forgot to securely close it, or perhaps another person saw the commotion and had the same idea as Akira to enter a tall building to have a better view of it.

But instead, Akira stood frozen in place as he stared at the person standing near the edge of the roof. They had their back to him, wearing a white suit, a top hat, and a cape flowing in the wind. They held a small gem above their head, holding it up to the moon illuminating the scene from above. It felt magically, almost enough to take Akira's breath away, even Morgana made sure to stay silent as they watched the other person closely.

The few seconds that passed felt like minutes, the other person then glanced back, they wore a monocle on their right eye with their lips forming a proud smirk.

“I didn't expect to have an audience here.” The person spoke, it sounded like the voice of a boy, perhaps even the same age as Akira.

He walked towards them with a confident stride, as if the entire world was a stage, he was the star of the show, and Akira was merely an audience member randomly called to the stage.

The person stopped just inches in front of him, he bowed, one that is usually done by butlers, then with a simple flick of his wrist, a red rose appeared in his hand.

“Unfortunately, the show is already over. However, you're free to attend the next, whenever that may be.”

As if in a trance, Akira mindlessly reached for the rose as the other person walked by him. And as if breaking that a trance, Akira looked back, only thing to see the mysterious person had already disappeared.

“W-who was that?!” It was then that Morgana finally spoke, with his voice helping to completely bring Akira back to reality.

“R-right?!” He said in a rather confused panic, looking at the rose and back at where that person vanished.

“Hey, wait!” Morgana jumped on Akira's shoulder, “There's something sparkling in that rose!”

Akira closely inspected the flower, right at the middle of it is a small gem, the very same one that the other person held up to the moon. It was also then that the two heard some loud thundering noises seemingly getting closer to their location.

“Do you think that the cops from downstairs already found out about that guy being in this building?” Morgana quickly went back inside the bag, “Akira, this is bad! We gotta get out of here before they see us! Otherwise they might think we're the ones that stole that gem!”

Akira nodded, he planned on leaving the gem along with the rose on the rooftop but instead chose to leave only the gem after a moment's hesitation, keeping the rose for himself. It was a good thing, that he came here today.

[ggyuwwoo]

heaven's cloud : Paradise

- in the afterlife where we get to choose our own paradise, two souls unexpectedly meet.

genre: soulmates!au, but also involves idolverse, kinda fantasy whimsical, afterlife-paradise world; fem!reader x lee chan warnings: mentions of death, magical creatures, not really sure what else i guess word count: 2.4k + i generally am not good at making these infos, bear with me sorry! also not really fond of the fic picture, but i also suck and still is learning,,,,

next | masterlist

-

Lee Chan, for your exemplary journey in life, you are hereby bestowed a place in Paradise.

"I'll take the clouds if I may,"

Then to the clouds you shall ascend, Heaven's Cloud.

-

Eleven months of (not) living in paradise, Chan had adapted well into his afterlife. The Guides had placed him in his own haven of his choosing, the Clouds. Fluffy white and softer than cashmere, the touch is cooling and healing, peace and quiet were also a given. To Chan, it's his very definition of heaven.

Despite being the only soul - apparently, no one has chosen the Clouds for centuries - Chan has been never alone. He had the little fairies and spirits to keep him company while wandering around the forests. Stars often appear in his nights to cast a light show for the boy. Cancer loves to see Chan's awe-stricken face as the constellation shows him a few tricks.

The Clouds inhabitants and surrounding astronomical beings grew fond of the boy. Hence, Lee Chan never felt alone.

Though it was a blissful experience and a beautiful memory, there was only one month left. One month until the end of his livelihood above the world.

You will be given twelve months of afterlife until your next life begins.

Chan still doesn't understand why they must be sent back to Earth, living another full life that may or may not be 'great'. Though the thought of living on Earth, whatever their life might be, is already a disappointing thought. After having to exist in a paradise of your own, nothing else would come close.

But apparently, the universe believes differently.

The fairies and spirits told him once, 'Universe sought in a cycle, to them it's the perfect way as it does not end, leading to the continuation of life and its purposes.'

"But what exactly do those purposes serve if there is no end to it?"

'There is none silly, if there was to be an end to it, then life itself would cease to exist. It serves to preserve life as we know it, and well - the Universe.'

Chan pondered the thought for a while, "What if, just really hypothetically, someone happens to break the cycle, what happens then?"

The fairies' expression saddened, 'Hopefully it never happens.' Some of them flew to sit on Chan's shoulder, a calming place for them. 'But if it were to happen somehow, life wouldn't perish instantly, but the Universe and everything in it will meet its end, including the afterlife.'

The boy nodded before noticing the frowns on the beautiful faces of the winged creatures, the atmosphere had taken a drop turn. Choosing to lighten the somber mood, Chan raised another question. "Well then, um, what about aliens? Do they exist?”

-

Throughout the time he was there, Chan spent it listening to the stories of the creatures, exploring the cloud haven that seemingly doesn't end, and conversing every now and then with the astronomical beings -- when they so happened to be passing by.

It didn't get boring for the boy as the stories that the fairies had been plenty and new, never losing the interest of Chan, and the beings were more than happy to talk with him about almost anything.

Of course, all this was okay and fine, revealing the Universe's secrets and whatnot, Chan wouldn't remember this anyway when he enters his next life.

On the first day of his twelfth month, Chan woke up from his sleeping quarters in the usual well-rested sleep. Walking out to do his routine of visiting the forest and later on relaxing by the Serenity Sky Lake. But before he could reach the outlines of White Forest, he saw a figure walking through the field, he couldn't see clearly who it was, but what he registered in his mind was enough to make him gasp.

It was another soul. A human.

As quickly as his feet could take him, Chan sped through the flurry landscape of clouds, wanting to figure out this stranger.

"Hey you! Hey!"

The figure turned to the general direction of where Chan was coming from, revealing its appearance. Upon view, Chan stumbled over nothing, causing him to fall forward into a roll and tumbling on the ground until he laid flat on his back. Luckily, there were clouds under him.

"Oh my God! Are you okay?" He heard the figure shout before rustling and someone appeared by his side. Chan scrunched his eyes trying to block the light coming from above while identifying the person looming over him. The first thing he noticed was long brown hair, the strands were flowing almost magically. As if hypnotized by it, Chan could only stare. Until finally, he saw the stranger's face.

She’s ethereal.

~

You were quite confused as to why you were where you were. All you could see for miles were… white? Your body was standing on nothing, or at least that was how it looked. A sudden voice interrupted your wonders.

Welcome _____, you are in Paradise.

You turned back to find the source of the voice but all you found was a blinding light that caused you to squint your eyes.

“Wh-what? Where?”

Paradise dear, the afterlife.

Your mind went blank, the afterlife? No way. Your brain tried remembering the last thing before waking up in this weird place.

There’s no use child, your memories are long gone. But I can tell you this, you went in peace. You weren’t in pain.

Were the voices capable of reading minds? And who were they? You were a bit frightened.

To answer your question, yes we can read minds. We are the Guides, here to assist the souls in the afterlife. There’s no need to be afraid.

“Uh, okay, ...thank you?” You voiced out, still a little overwhelmed with whatever was going on.

Well then, perhaps we should take you to your choice. Please, follow the green path.

Just as the voices finished speaking, a sudden green line appeared in front of you. You couldn’t see what was ahead, just the green line until the end. You decided to follow through, whatever this was.

As you walked on the path, you were gradually transported to a different place. When you were finally able to understand your surroundings, there were screens that had different landscapes and writings in different colors under them. The scenes displayed were (what you could only describe as) heavenly. Each of them has its own set of vibe and warmth to it. Unconsciously your hand moved itself to touch one of the screens, but then the voices returned prompting you to pull it back.

What you see in front of you are the places in Paradise, according to how one lives their life on Earth, you have a series of options that you may choose from. I shall provide you a look-through.

The screens suddenly disappeared and now you were standing in what looked like those busy city streets, only not so busy.

First is the Silver City. Its appearance resembles the metropolitan areas down on Earth but without all the pollution, noises, and busy traffic. Many people who had used to live in these areas usually choose them, sensing a familiarity to it, they say.

As the Guides explained its landscapes, you were admiring the tall buildings and skyscrapers around you. The architectural designs were marvelous and even if you didn’t remember if you had studied such things, you can’t help but stare in admiration.

Aside from the buildings, the streets looked beautiful as well. The sidewalks were arranged perfectly as if it was placed with the most proper city planning. But one building stuck out to you most, it was majestic. A silver mansion, with tall gates and filled with all kinds of trees and plants. Before you could step towards it, the Guides were already finished explaining the Silver City and had transported you instead to another location.

Second, the Golden Countryside. As the name states, this place is best likely your ultimate countryside farm paradise. A quaint farmhouse with animal livestock to nurture and many forests to explore and spend time in. Families often choose this place for their resting, it’s quite homey.

True to their words, you couldn’t believe what you were seeing. It was a vast field of grass with a simple two-story house that looked like it could fit six bedrooms. Beside it was a giant farmhouse and animals roaming around it. The view itself was doubled in beauty as the sun (or whatever source of light that existed here) sets from behind, casting a soft orange glow over it. Somehow the silver mansion from earlier was placed way aside in your head. Yet again, before you could ask any questions, you were immediately transported once more.

The third is Cosmic Space. Ever wondered how it is to live in Space child?

You heard the voice give out a sound that was similar to a laugh, but somehow not quite.

More people than you’d expect actually dream of this. It may not be as simple as the City or the Countryside, but it’s nonetheless paradise. To them.

Now you were most definitely floating, though despite floating in the middle of random space, you could breathe easily and see easily as well. You thought that space may be too wild for you but as you were looking around, you saw one of the most magical things you have ever seen.

“A comet shower…”

The Guides seemed to have heard you as they projected the shower closer, now holographic space comets were right above you, shining as they continued the rain of them. Mesmerized was all you could feel, the meteors were almost hypnotizing you.

“Whoa…”

Beautiful isn’t it?

Was the last thing you heard before you felt the sudden pull of transport again, at this point you were no longer fazed with the continuous changing of locations, though you did wish to have been able to watch the shower longer.

Number four, the Pearl Waters. For those who favor the deep sea and vast oceans. Of course, many souls who felt close to the waves chose this. The afterlife here is often intriguing, staying with the many creatures and traveling wherever paradise takes you.

You found yourself standing on a deck of a ship, it was modernized though some parts resemble that of an older version. Heading to the flanks you watched the blue ocean as the waves sloshed around the sides. As if welcoming you, dolphins suddenly jumped above the sea, whalebacks spurting water, and schools of fish could be seen from the clear water. You were most surely amazed. As the sea creatures displayed a water show, you felt something touching your arm on the railing. You looked to find a woman with green-blue hair, her cheeks had features similar to scales, and as you peered further you realized it wasn’t a woman at all.

“A...mermaid?”

Ah yes, indeed. Each paradise also has guardians that help care and maintain the afterlife. Mermaids are the Pearl Waters guardians. As for the Silver City, we have the Elves. Golden Countryside has the Shapeshifters while Cosmic Space has Angels.

“Wait what?” You were pretty much confused all together, mythical creatures? Well, then again, it is the afterlife, who knows what actually exists here. But still, you found yourself in confusion and quite the shock.

Not to worry dear, you’ll have plenty of time to get acquainted. Now for our last destination.

The mermaid who was staring at your side gave you a small smile before disappearing back into the ocean. You continued to stare at her general direction before your view changed into that of...clouds?

Last but not the least, Heaven’s Cloud. It’s truly magical here. Not many people find it appealing though, but of course it always depends on who’s choosing. Essentially, it's the skies. The guardians here are the fairies and spirits. Quite the peculiar and very friendly creatures.

As your eyes set on the landscape, you couldn’t help but let out a gasp. It was breathtaking. It was as if you were standing right in front of the Sun but at the same time, you weren’t. You knew for one you’ve never been in a place like this yet all you could feel from the surroundings was home. You leaned down to touch the fluffy ground and it was the softest thing you’ve ever felt. As quickly as the previous location visits, the surroundings changed again back to their original place with screens.

Now _____, because of the well-lived life that you have gone through. You, _____, are given the choice of one of the five Paradises that you have just seen. Speak now for your choice.

You didn’t know if it was your own voice and mind that spoke, or your conscience, because the sound that erupted from your body sounded firm and almost unbreakable. You didn’t even realize that you had spoken your choice after it was said.

“Heaven’s Cloud if I may,”

The Guides paused for a moment as if they were thinking about something, before continuing.

Very well then, your heart has spoken. To Heaven’s Cloud, you shall go.

One last time, you were again transported to a field with white clouds, similar to the earlier landscape you visited. This time without the voices. Somehow you suddenly felt alone, scared, and unsure of what to do. Wandering aimlessly, you tried looking for the guardians - the fairies and spirits. Then you suddenly heard someone shout.

“Hey you! Hey!”

You turned back to see a man, brown fluffy hair swaying atop his head, running towards you. Well, was running, until he stumbled down and started rolling across the field.

“Oh my god! Are you okay?” you shouted before heading towards the boy. As you reached his side, you saw he was unhurt and fine, just squinting his eyes. You sighed in relief, although it should make sense, after all, it was clouds underneath them. Before you could say anything to the stranger, you caught him staring right at you, and somehow you stared back as well.

The boy looked mesmerizing.

[oureuphoria]

Worst of You - JJK 01

You meet him under horrible circumstances but that doesn’t stop you from developing a very abnormal and completely unsolicited crush on your local hot police officer™. Too bad you have a bitch of a best friend, anxiety and an inability to learn from your mistakes which cripples your chances to be with the man of your literal dreams. Oh, and he has a lifetime’s worth of baggage at 23.  Or “I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.” “Cool, I’ll let everyone know that you’re moving in then.”

Genre: fluff, angst, comedy 

Pairing: officer!jungkook X collegestudent!reader

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: Mentions of violence (stab wound), mentions of anxiety, swearing

Note: I was watching B99 and I was like ‘Woah, Jungkook would be a hot cop,’ and now we’re here. 

| 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 |

If someone had asked you to write a novel about the adventures of your life, it would be extremely thin. Not from your lack of experiences (although it is a pressing factor) but more so from your inability to think about yourself for longer than 3 minutes without feeling sick. You were not a particularly hateful person, especially not towards yourself, but you were an active and anxious thinker and your mind was often boggled with thoughts about what you could’ve or have done wrong and it was exasperating.

For example, occasionally, your professors would allow students to spectate professional research experiments and that month, you were selected (out of pity because Alex was selected and the Professor knew she was your only friend). You knew this was supposed to be an “interesting learning experience” but it was a complete and utter bore. At first you’d convinced yourself it was only boring because you were hungry, then you began to realise it was boring because your singular braincell could not comprehend such complex material on an empty stomach.

So, you left the room to go to McDonald’s, for educational purposes of course. That was where you went wrong because instead of peacefully enjoying your McChicken you were dealing with your phone which was blowing up with messages from Alex about how you were missing ever so much from the research lab. However, it seemed to you that perfectly cut fries were more interesting than watching microscopic cells bounce around in a microscope for an hour.

It turned out that watching microscopic cells bounce around in a microscope for an hour was worth a lot of credits and you wallowed in self-pity for the mere 24-hours that followed that realisation.

You had fucked up once again, only three days after witnessing all 3 minutes of the splendid research experiment. It was a Saturday and you were standing outside your dorm building watching a student yell at a stray cat. It was around 2 in the morning and you were sneaking back from your late shift at the convenience store. Usually, you would have been terrified and confused but you were so tired that you violently pinched your arm and blinked rapidly, hoping it was just an illusion. When the peculiar scene didn’t disappear, you realised this was real but it was too late since the man was now sprinting after you across your quiet and empty campus.

Four years ago, if someone had told your 16-year-old self to participate in your P.E classes because you would later be chased by a crazy man at 2am then you surely would’ve listened. But unfortunately, no one had done such a thing and you were beginning to realise just how regrettable that was. Your running performance was mediocre at best, definitely not fast enough to out run this man across an extremely large campus and you were beginning to lose your breath.

Your only option was to quit while you were ahead and either find somewhere to hide or use your very non-existent combat skills to karate kick the man into the other dimension. Naturally, you hid behind the giant administrator building. As you were finally behind the safe confines of the old brick wall you moved to reach for your phone when you heard an alarming scream. As much as your brain wanted to relish in the relief that the scream wasn’t coming from you, you couldn’t shake the instant guilt. You called the police and tried to sound as reliable as possible but your voice was dripping with fear and you stuttered over your words like a toddler.

Once you were able to clearly see the student, lying on the lawn in pain with what appeared to be a stab wound the guilt completely consumed you but part of you couldn’t even believe this was real. Students woke up from the deafening sounds of sirens and it wasn’t long before this would become a commotion so the officers made quick work of the scene, the ambulance moving him to their van and the police officers continuing their reports. You were asked to go to the station where you would be further questioned by another officer and you didn’t quite understand the need for that escalation but you compiled nonetheless. You didn’t need the police and your conscience to think you were guilty.

You were seated in the backseat of a police car, behind two male officers. Their conversation fell numbly to your ears, your mind already submerged deeply in thought. You didn’t snap out of your trance until the officers repeatedly called for you. “Did you know the boy? The one who was, uh, attacked?” The officer was trying to find the right terms and you commend him for that much, but the last part felt more like an unsure question than a statement and that didn’t sit well with you. “No.” Your answer deadpanned the chance of a conversation, the silence after being the proof. The drive continued for about 3 minutes before you stood at the information desk where you were asked to join the secretary on a walk to the interrogation room. “The officer will be with you shortly. Would you like anything to drink?” She spoke curtly, the annoyed look on her face told you she’d already done this too many times. “No thanks, I’m fine.”

You were confused and guilty and scared. None of this made any sense, you - who never, ever, experienced anything outside your boring routine - was now being questioned for an attack? You were convinced you were borderline insane and that this was just a horrible dream. But, with every tic of the annoying clock on the plain wall behind you, you grew less convinced that this was anything but reality.

“Hello.” The officer walked in, and suddenly you felt like you were in some sick, twisted rom-com because that man might have been the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. You didn’t mean to become distracted but he looked like he’d just walked out of a magic mike production and you were frankly astonished because this had to be a dream. His eyes were dark but they shined in the light beautifully, however the furrow in his eyebrows scared you enough to stop staring at his eyes. His build was clearly very developed, he looked like you could bench press you 40 times over and not even break a sweat. Or maybe he was just really fucking hot.

“My name is Officer Jeon and I’m here to ask you a couple of questions, I don’t want you to feel afraid or pressured, just answer me honestly and you’ll be fine.” Although he’d meant to sound soft and reassuring his words sounded more like an indirect threat. A threat that you heard loud and clear. You gulped quietly, the dryness in your throat mocking you as you recalled rejected the offer for a drink. You nodded when you realised he was expecting an answer but it clearly wasn’t enough. “I need you to use your voice at all times in here, this could be used in court and we need you to be very clear so nothing is misinterpreted. Do you understand?” You wanted to cry. All you’d had in plan for the night was to get to your dorm, eat some 99 cent ramen and go to sleep yet here you were at 3 in the morning in an interrogation room for an attack you weren’t even sure you ‘witnessed’. “Yup.”

“Great, then let’s begin. Can you start by stating your name and age?” “Y/N, L/N. 20.” You nearly stuttered which would have been beyond embarrassing. You seriously couldn’t even manage your own name? “Alright, Miss L/N. Why were you out so late?” You paused for a moment to rehearse your answer but you couldn’t quite get it all out. “I work at a convenience store.” You gestured to your name tag for effect and he nodded, writing something down in his notepad.

“How often do you work there?” The question was irrelevant, unrelated and the first tell-tale sign that you were not a witness; you were a suspect. However, you were too tired to notice. “Twice a week. 4pm-2am.” “You live in the dormitories, correct?” You nodded but he gave you a pointed look that reminded you to use words. “Yes.” “2 shifts a week can’t possibly sustain you. How do you pay your dorm fees?” This was when your tired brain began picking up on the fact that you weren’t just a witness. “I tutor high school kids. It pays enough.” He didn’t reply, just wrote something down in his notepad again - an action which was beginning to make you anxious.

“When you were interrogated by the field officer you told him that you were hiding behind the administration building when you’d heard the victim scream, why were you hiding there?” “I was hiding from the uh, a-attacker.” “How did you encounter him before that?” “I already answered this…” You were visibly nervous which couldn’t have looked very promising. “Then you won’t mind answering again.” His tone was menacing and if you weren’t already very intimidated by his role and demeanour then his strikingly good looks would have done the job. You’ve always been very intimidated by attractive people which proved to an insane burden.

“I was returning to my dorm block when I saw him yelling at a cat, he saw me and began to lunge my way so I started to run but I’m not very good at running so I hid behind the building instead. I was in the process of calling the police when I heard the scream and I didn’t move until the police came.” He seemed unsatisfied with your answer but that was understandable. Your monologue wasn’t confidentially given, you stuttered and stumbled over your words consistently out of anxiety, but he didn’t know that and probably thought you were the very thing you had been running from.

“How did you know that the man chasing you was a student? You said he was in the initial questioning.” “I wasn’t sure. It was 2am and he was standing on a student campus, outside a student dormitory. So, I assumed he was a student.” Your tone was a little vindictive, possibly from the frustration of being labeled as a suspect for a crime you were positive you didn’t commit. “Did you know the student who was attacked?” “No. When can I leave?” The question came out rushed and on impulse but you didn’t care. You were far too tired to. “When I ask all my questions.” You nodded absentmindedly, focusing on the plain table instead.

“You think I did it, don’t you?” Tears were welling up in your eyes but you were too dehydrated to cry.  “Right now you’re only a minor suspect, these are routine questions we have to ask and I really don’t see the issue with them if you’re truly innocent.” That surely shut you up, and made you feel a little stupid. Normally a question like that would never come from you but your exhaustion was taking a toll on your patience, and it was a heavy toll at that. “I’m sorry.” His angry features softened at your shaky voice. “How about we continue this tomorrow. Is 2pm okay for you?” You spaced out again, which was probably why he wanted to continue the interrogation the next day. “Is that okay?” He repeated, this time more pressing, you nodded but were quick to once again correct yourself and mutter a quick “yes” before you grabbed your backpack and suppressed the urge to Naruto run out of the room.

You walked out of the double doors only to be met with the dark night sky and a creeping fear that there was someone following you. You walked home from your shift every Friday and Saturday night and until that day nothing extremely bad had happened. Yet here you were cowardly glancing over your shoulder with every chance you got. You hated walking at night because your paranoia constantly slowed you down and what should’ve been a 10- minute walk turned into a 23-minute walk. It didn’t help that your recent encounter kept replaying in your head, the image of the poor victim on the floor vividly appearing every time you blinked.

As you rolled yourself up in a blanket burrito to escape the dark amiss of the night (more or less your own thoughts), you began to lull yourself into a soft sleep before your roommate, Alex, rudely barged into your room with little concern for your sleep.. “What happened? Why did you leave with the officers? Everyone’s talking about it you know, you’re on everyone’s snapchat story and your clothes really aren’t that flattering.” “A student got attacked and I was the only kind-of witness. The officers wanted to do some further questioning and how many times must I tell you its the uniform.” She sighed in relief before crushing you with a hug. “I’m glad you’re okay.” You suffocated under her grasp but you knew better than to try to fight Alex. She left the room to allow you to sleep but not before rambling about how she assumed you had turned into a rogue murderer.

[aminiatureworld]

Connection

Ship: Geralt x Jaskier

Warnings: None

Premise:  Jaskier calls Geralt out for his reticence on hand holding. Geralt is quick to deny this, but even quicker to prove the bard right, as well as prove to himself how much it matters.

Author’s Note: Sorry for the horrendous summary, but I actually quite like this fic. Also two thirds of it was written at midnight, so forgive me for any typos or odd shifts in tone, scene, etc. I realize most of my fanfiction is written between midnight and three am. Maybe I should fix that.

Ao3 link in reblog

“Tell me Geralt, what are your thoughts on hand holding?” Geralt’s head snapped up in confusion as he stared incredulously at his companion. Jaskier was perched on top of the room’s dresser, feet propped up on the windowsill. It seemed a particularly stupid way to sit to Geralt, but he’d long ago learned that the bard didn’t really care what Geralt saw as stupid, or perhaps Jakier did care and then made a concerted effort to do everyone one of those things, Geralt still hadn’t quite decided, having instead accepted that his companion was of a particularly odd, if vaguely endearing, nature. Now though Geralt was very sure the bard must be pulling his leg, perhaps in an effort to spark some new lyric to try on the disgruntled inn patrons, or perhaps out of sheer boredom. Shifting his weight slightly Geralt hoped that this conversation would be as short as possible, for sometimes it felt like a sprint to keep up with the odd, twisted conversational logic that Jaskier often took. Even the opening statement gave the Witcher pause, for who on the Continent thought actively of such things? Grunting he shrugged his shoulders.

           “Oh c’mon!” Jaskier prodded, plinking a particularly pretty chord, though Geralt could tell one of strings was becoming a bit shredded; which one he had no idea of course, picking up on subtle things like off strings wasn’t the same as retaining a shred of musical knowledge that Jaskier, seemingly daily, tried to impart on Geralt. Now Jaskier almost looked the same way he did during his teaching attempts, slightly bemused, ready to whip out the chalkboard and textbooks. It was a bit unnerving, and Geralt looked down, not particularly looking forward to where this was going. He could hear the bard swing down and hit the floor, and looked up in time to see Jaskier sit crisscross on the small pile of boards that passed as a trunk-made-table, honestly did the bard know how to sit normally?

           “Why,” Geralt stared at Jakier. “do you think of such odd things?”

           “Why don’t you think of such normal things!” Jaskier cried out in return, beaming like a child who’d just proved himself right. “Honestly Geralt, who doesn’t think of such things? For someone so grouchy about any close contact, you don’t actually have any rules set out about it. Or any logic. I think I’ve washed your lovely body more often than our two palms have touched. Don’t you think that’s even a little odd.”

           “Tch.” Geralt wasn’t quite sure how to respond to this, realizing that the bard was indeed right, Jaskier probably had touched Geralt’s hair more than his hands, but wasn’t quite willing to admit it, for doing so felt oddly like defeat, or perhaps it was just that Jaskier, when proven right, seemed never to shut up about it. Deciding that he’d rather just humor the bard than have this conversation, Geralt sighed and gestured for Jaskier’s hand. Jaskier needed no encouragement, quickly slapping his hand into the Witcher’s. It stung a bit, Geralt had realized that musician hands were quite calloused, and that Jaskier was unnervingly strong, about the second time they’d met, and even now he marveled at it. He squeezed the bard’s hand, thinking it was dry and warm, and oddly comfortable, before letting go. “Happy?” The bard shook his head.

           “That won’t prove me wrong Geralt, and you know it. Anyone who has to do something to try to prove they’re right is only admitting failure. Nevertheless,” he patted Geralt on the shoulder, a familiar action, which originally caused Geralt exasperation, but now brought only a sense of fondness for their ritualistic banter, not that he’d admit that, not on his dying breath. Just as he’d never admit that, now that Jaskier brought it up, he realized he’d rather like to hold the bard’s hand more, well, he’d like to do a great deal more than that if he allowed himself to drift down that particular vein of thought, but he was buried approximately one hundred levels too deep in denial to cross that bridge. He could only imagine the months of gloating that would cause, or maybe there wouldn’t be gloating, but rather, a closer relationship, which scared Geralt even more, those close to him had bad track records for fate being kind on them after all. It was better just not to try and approach that bridge, much less cross it. With that thought in mind Geralt stood up.

“Where are you going?” Jaskier exclaimed, flopping onto the bed where Geralt had been sitting moments ago.

           “To get information, I want to know what exactly we’re looking for.”

           “Wasn’t that it’s a kikimora well established?” Jaskier asked, laughter in his eyes. “Look Geralt, you don’t have to run away from this, I full believe in your ability to hold my hand, give it seven years and I’m sure you’ll have mastered it.”

           “Tch.” Geralt grunted, rolling his eyes. Jaskier looked even more pleased, evidently the Witcher would have to say something or cede the board, not that this wasn’t already doing that. He looked for some sort of excuse. “This is for your sake, not mine. I don’t want to hear you complaining the whole way back if you accidentally stumble on it and get your doublet dirty or whatever.”

           “Aww, you care.” Jaskier smiled, a smile which flipped something in Geralt’s stomach and made him want to return the gesture, every. damn. time. “Well, this is the price you pay for never revealing your big dark secrets to me, best of luck to you then, and remember you wouldn’t have to do this if you let me go with you.” Geralt barked out a half laugh, half snort.

           “Never.” And with that he strode out and slammed the door. Standing for a moment he could hear the bard chuckling inside, he had a nice laugh that one, before focusing on his music. The familiar pizzing and strumming, a melody picked up here and dropped there, random words, some louder than others, escaping the bard’s mind into sound, it made Geralt feel some sort of happiness, to see someone so in their element and so happy. He was glad that Jaskier was happy. Wished he could share in the effusive sunlight of his companion. But to do would be to go down that path in his mind, and a second moon would appear in the sky before that happened.

             Geralt came back from his expedition covered in black blood, and buzzed enough off of potions to feel completely overwhelmed by the bustling tavern, filled with sounds and smells and colors which seemed to knock into him like a wave. He stumbled his way towards a seat in the corner, head pounding in a myriad of different ways, as if being both smashed by a hammer and stabbed by a million needles. He felt too nauseous to ask for food or drink, worried he might cause a scene in the middle of high hours. Instead he leaned back and closed his eyes, trying to slow his breathing and get the steel he’d need to make his way upstairs and, hopefully, into a bath.

           Slowly he managed to pick his way through the wave of sound, trying to find some sort of lifeline. It was the busiest hours of the night, and Jaskier was in the middle of a performance, singing some sort of song about a highwayman leaving his lover with the promise of gold and riches. Right now the lover was despairing over his disappearance, and Geralt, having listened to this song many times before, reflected on the silliness of the song, for never in real life would a highwayman suddenly save his fair love, declaring that they’d be together in life and death. Still the song was mysterious and repetitive and softer than the usual fare, and Geralt found himself lifted up by it, by Jaskier’s voice, and the slight scratch the strings made when he lifted his hand from them, and for a moment the pain was beaten back by comfort and routine, and by a beautiful voice belonging to a beautiful bard, and, as if by magic, all seemed not overwhelming and gross and dirty, but pure and beautiful and calm.

           The spell, of course, lasted not one second when Geralt made to move, and the nausea, pounding, and overwhelmed sensation slammed back into him like a wall. The Witcher gritted his teeth as he lurched up, determined to make it upstairs. His steps were sluggish and slow, and he marveled that if a monster were to come upon him now he’d probably be useless, for the potions were a double edge sword, and when the adrenaline left so did his focus, and the outside came crashing in, blocking out everything that made him good to fight. A feeling of frustration and uselessness came over him, and Geralt nearly slammed into one of the wooden beams. Immediately he could feel the noise shift, and cursed himself. Jaskier’s music had stopped, and Geralt looked up through his haze of discomfort to see the bard rushing to collect his coin, before hurtling towards Geralt. Looking at his companion, Jaskier called to the innkeeper behind the bar, asking for a tub to be brought up along with hot water, before draping Geralt over his shoulder. Geralt grunted, feeling slightly self-conscious, but now wasn’t truly the time to be batting away the bard’s help, and thus the Witcher leaned onto his companion’s shoulder, and allowed himself to be brought up to their room.

           “Don’t sit on the bed.” Jaskier said, dumping the Witcher onto the trunk. “I don’t know if we’d be able to get clean sheets by tonight.” Taking off his now bloodied doublet, Jaskier placed his lute, which had been slung onto the front of his chest to keep it from being broken or dirtied, on the windowsill, before sitting down on the trunk next to Geralt. “Now, we wait. Bad round this time?” Geralt grunted in assent, and Jaskier nodded. “How you witchers manage it without companions I don’t know.”

Geralt, who was barely keeping upright, wanting nothing more than to sleep and blackout the truly horrendous head pain and waves of discomfort, dragged his hand towards Jaskier. The bard looked slightly confused, and Geralt grunted once more. “What, do you want something?” Jaskier laughed softly, it came out in a huffed, confused way. Slowly he entangled his fingers into his Witcher’s. “Is this it?” Geralt closed his eyes and hummed, not feeling altogether comfortable to confirm, both in fear of being sick and due to the small voice in his mind jeering him this was very foolish indeed. They kept like this for some time, until a knock on the door notified the pair that a bath was finally ready. Everything was brought in, and nothing was said as Jaskier stripped Geralt, shoved him into the tub, and helped the poor Witcher clean off, as well as preventing a drowning, for Geralt was truly bound and determined to sleep, come hell or high water, in this case the latter being more likely. Still, it was accomplished, and as Geralt stumbled onto the bed, he felt a tugging sense of gratitude and comfort, and something else. “Jaskier?” he called out.

“Yes Geralt?” Came the immediate reply, and Geralt smiled slightly to himself, comforted by the familiar reply, the constant presence.

“I ruined your doublet.” He could here a burst of laughter coming from the bard, all in a heap, a lovely soft sound, amplified by the after effects of the Witcher’s potions.

“That you did.” He heard the reply, heard the bard approach, surprisingly quiet and soft. A hand reached out and Geralt took it. It was warm and strong, calloused in the best way, a symbol of talent and tenacity and beauty. “Well. Perhaps it was Fate.” came a soft reply. Geralt smiled, and as he drifted to sleep, he considered that, though the night had been in many ways a debacle, he was glad that he had an anchor to keep him steady, a hand to guide him through the noise and lights and disorder, and if that remained the case, maybe the world wasn’t so great a cesspit as he thought it to be.

             The squat village seemed even squatter from the main path, and as it disappeared into the distance Geralt looked back one last time, not because it was noteworthy in any way, but because it’d become some sort of habit after his leaving of Blaviken, you never knew when someone was going to turn an entire village on you, might as well enjoy an easy parting. It wasn’t something he told anyone, to bring it up was also to bring up a past he’d rather forget, but he still kept onto the tradition. Looking down he noticed Jaskier was smiling slightly, and for a moment Geralt wondered if he was going to bring it up, but instead the bard simply sighed and, kicking in a rock off the path, began to speak.

           “So, I see that you didn’t shake hands with your business partner after claiming your sum.” A rush of relief and irritation accompanied the statement, and Geralt huffed, turning so his gaze went straight ahead. They’d not brought up the night of his job, a source of great relief and consternation for Geralt, and now, faced with the idea of talking about it, he realized that it was easier to theoretically be nonchalant and aloof than actually feign disinterest in a topic or event. “Geralttt.” Jaskier was evidently plunging straight ahead into this topic, “We need to talk about it someday. You need closeness! Contact! A friendly handshake every once in a while!”

           “Why?” Geralt grumbled.

           “Well because it’s not normal for a one night stand to be easier than a handshake. Besides,” he added, grinning mischievously, “I think you’d quite like holding hands, at least every once in a while.” Geralt shifted his weight and looked once more at the bard. Jaskier was looking quite smug, as always, but there seemed to be something behind it, some genuine worry or care, Geralt could tell in the slight way his shoulders were pushed back, the quiver in his smile and in his hands, which were being wrung together. It struck him as odd that anyone should care so much, but evidently Jaskier was one such person. And, though he didn’t like to admit it to himself or anyone else, Geralt did care about Jaskier being happy and content, even if it seemed like a silly reason to be so upset over. If Geralt didn’t care about it, why did Jaskier? Still, the bard could be persistent, and might as well humor him even if he wasn’t, after all, it was just hand holding. Even if it was something that Geralt rather not think about, or talk about. Even if it was easier to pretend he didn’t care.

           Swinging off Roach, Geralt gripped the reins with one hand. The other reached out, and slow disentangled Jaskier’s right hand from his left. Looking straightforward again, Geralt grumbled; “There. Happy?”

           “Mhmm.” The bard hummed in reply, and gave Geralt’s hand a squeeze. Geralt huffed slightly, but he had to admit, it was nice to hold hands, as if a small, quiet part inside of him was suddenly glad to be connected to someone, to be able to share such a mundane and human connection with another. It passed a spell over him, seemingly, and for a moment he was incredibly content.

           “So, what about a kiss?” Jaskier’s playful voice broke through the reverie and Geralt’s stomach took a flip. He went to remove his hand, but Jaskier had a strong grip, and held on. “I’m kidding!” He assured, and laughed slightly. Geralt simply grunted, and tried to ignore the slight burning beneath his cheeks. Still he made no attempt to separate himself from Jaskier again, and, as they walked towards whatever new adventure was awaiting the pair, Geralt reflected that he was quite content where he was, and was grateful for the bard, and for whatever strange humor Fate had been in when linking the two together.

[adrenaline-roulette]

Absolute Beginners

Chapter one: Breaking a few egg heads

Years after running the Labyrinth, and rescuing her baby brother. Sarah finds herself forming an unlikely friendship with the Goblin King himself.

Sarah Williams was well and truly done with life. Not in a, ‘Oh what a cruel, harsh world!’ sort of way, but more of a ‘If Jareth shows up in my home one more time uninvited, then I may be forced to commit a crime’ sort of way. Don’t get me wrong, the company Jareth provides is rather excellent, a pleasant change from the goblins who she constantly found ransacking her kitchen cabinets and fridge, and he certainly made for intelligent conversation while her university friends were away during the semester break. The only issue with the King of the goblins continuously showing up unannounced, was the sheer amount of glitter that he left behind during each visit. Now Sarah likes glitter just as much as the next girl, but trying to vacuum it out from her carpet, and washing it from her hair was a nightmare! So much so, she now found herself simply leaving the apartment as it was, covered in glitter. Though she had to admit, that in the right lighting (Usually around 5:13 pm) the rooms took on an almost magical look, what with all the glitter…. And dream catchers, and wind chimes.

 With a groan, Sarah shouldered her front door open, dropping the heavy grocery bag onto the tiled entrance way, a sickening crack filling the empty apartment. “Shit.” She muttered, looking down at the fabric bag, which was slowly becoming wet at the base, “There go the eggs…” She kicked off her shoes, and frowned down at the bag, knowing full well that it wouldn’t clean itself up, though she damn well hoped that maybe, just maybe if she scowled at it long enough, it would. A familiar gust of wind caught her attention, though not enough to cause her to look up, she knew exactly what it meant, and the sound of the patio doors bursting open only confirmed her suspicion.

“My dear Sarah, I’ve brought you a gift!” called the clipped English accent of the one and only goblin king. Sarah remained staring at the ever-growing pool of shattered egg, that was slowly creeping closer to her sock clad feet. “Hi Jareth.” She smirked, looking up at the ever-glittering king who now stood in the apartment entrance with her. “Any chance you could, you know.” She motioned her hands in what she called, her best magic impression, which was more or less a vertical rendition of jazz hands. Jareth rolled his mismatched eyes, muttering under his breath about not having to wave his hands to perform magic, instead he used crystal balls. With a flourish of his black leather gloved hands, one of said crystals appeared between his fingertips, he twirled it there a moment, watching as Sarah grew impatient, her eyes following the egg yolks as they neared her big toe. With a small chuckle, he lunged the crystal at the mess on the floor, the puddle and shattered egg shells all disappearing in a grand display of glitter. Sarah glanced down at where the murder of twelve innocent individuals had just occurred, nothing was left at the scene of the crime, no one would ever know what had happened.  Her eyes travelled up to Jareth’s, a smile playing on her lips. “Remember that chat we had the other day?”

“You mean the one where we discussed whether pork was really a type of vegetable?”

“No, not that o- Wait, when did we have THAT conversation?!”

“Perhaps that was with my advisor Garret, not matter, please continue.”

Sarah shook her head in wonderment, the things that man said were a mystery sometimes. “I meant, the chat we had about you coming to the door like a normal person. I don’t care if you glitter poof outside of my home, just not inside, it takes too long to clean up afterwards.” Sarah watched as Jareth visibly scowled at the use of the word ‘poof’.

“Sarah, precious, I do not poof anywhere. I appear, there is a difference. And besides, I simply had to arrive as suddenly as I did, as I announced when I arrived, I have a gift for you.”

Sarah manoeuvred herself around Jareth, having collected her grocery bags once again, in order to deposit them on her kitchen counter.  As she made her way around her kitchen, she found herself trying to recall how this had all started. The whole, Jareth appearing in her apartment and presenting her with gifts.

The 25th of March seemed to spring to mind when thinking about the beginning of this all. It was three years after Sarah had run the labyrinth to reclaim her baby brother Toby from the Goblin King. She had been out with her friends at a house party, where everything was served in a red solo cup, and no one really knew what they were drinking, but it was obvious that whatever it was, it contained copious amounts of alcohol. By the time Sarah had stumbled home, it was past 3 am, and even in her drunken state, she knew to be grateful for her father, Karen and Toby being away for the weekend. She made her way upstairs, after finally managing to unlock the front door, she could’ve sworn she felt small goblin sized hands helping her steady her own shaking hands, to open the door, but they seemed to disappear just as soon as they had appeared. Her typical evening routine was abandoned that night, instead she opted for stripping her rather revealing dress off, and throwing on a pair of sleep shorts and shirt, she could take her makeup off in the morning… Or afternoon, depending on what time she managed to drag herself out of bed. She sat on the edge of her bed for what felt like hours, but was in fact no longer than twenty minutes, her eyes focused on the mirror of her old vanity table, contemplating whether she should call on her old friends again. Ludo, Sir Didymus and Hoggle had always been happy to talk with her, but perhaps not at such an ungodly hour. She shook her head, and sighed. “Goblin King, Jareth, I need you..” She whispered, as tears slipped from her eyes. After such a great night, the last thing Sarah expected herself to be doing was crying, especially over something that had occurred over three years ago!

“Sarah, have you called to wish away another child….” The sneer in His voice fell short as Jareth peered down at the young woman sobbing on her bed. This certainly wasn’t how he had imagined their next meeting, especially not with Sarah looking as she did now, the makeup running down her face was not an appealing look.  “I… I’m so sorry Jareth!” Sarah cried out, her wide green eyes seeking out his own, there was such vulnerability there, one he had not seen during her run of his labyrinth. “Sorry for what Sarah?” He smirked slightly at the way she shuddered lightly at the sound of her name from his lips, perhaps there was hope for him yet? His mind danced away from the scene playing out in front of him, paying only a small amount of attention to the blubbering Sarah, explaining why she was sorry. In his mind, Jareth Saw himself and Sarah dancing, which seemed like such a novel idea, especially seeing as there were far more things that were less polite that he would like to picture himself doing with Sarah. Though something caught his eye about their dancing, at first it had seemed like any other ball Jareth would host, or attend in the underground, but this was different. Not different in the layout, or the guests who smiled politely as the couple danced past, but in what Sarah was wearing. It would have meant nothing if the shade of her dress was slightly darker or light, but no, this particular shade of red could mean only one thing. The image playing out in his mind was of their wedding day, more specifically their first dance, and if Jareth had it his way, one day it would no longer be a dream, but instead a reality.

He suddenly found himself jolted out of his dream, by the sound of Sarah blowing her nose, it looked as if she were finally getting to the point of all of this crying. With a deep breath, she launched into a grand speech. “Jareth, I forgive you. All you did was what I asked for. You took Toby to your castle because I wished for you to do so. For years I tried to convince myself that you took him under different circumstances, but I can’t lie to myself any more. Everything I asked for, you did. If anything, I should be thanking you, not hating you!”

Now this took Jareth by surprise, and very little did these days. After living for over a thousand years, it was hard to find anything truly shocking, but this was certainly unexpected. It was as if his brain had stopped working, he couldn’t think of any witty response to Sarah’s sudden change of heart, come to think of it, he couldn’t think of anything to say at all! So instead, he opted for standing in front of the mirror he had appeared through, his mouth agape and nodding along, like some sort of stunned fish. A very regal looking fish, with fabulous hair, but a fish none the less. With one final half smile from Sarah, she fell to her side, head resting against the pillow, and slept.

“That was…. Unexpected.”  Jareth murmured, raising an eyebrow down at the sleeping woman. He did not envy her of the headache she would undoubtedly have in the morning, he only hoped she would remember what she had revealed to him. Leaning down, he pressed his lips against her temple, chuckling softly had she hummed happily in her sleep. “Take care Precious.” He whispered, before vanishing through the mirror, leaving the first of many clouds of glitter behind him.

 After that first night, Jareth found various reasons to visit Sarah, though he always made sure she had the house to herself before he appeared, knowing full well that she may have found it rather difficult to try and explain the dashingly handsome King in her bedroom. Or as she put it, ‘If my father finds out there has been a man in my room, he will murder me.’  But Jareth much preferred his variation of the story.

As the years passed, Jareth found himself having fewer excuses to visit Sarah, especially after she moved out to her own apartment. There were only so many times he could simply pop over to reclaim one of his goblins, who he most definitely had not sent to her home himself. Besides, if he used that excuse too many times, he feared Sarah may think he was negligent of his care to the goblins… She was right of course, but he would never let her know that! So, instead of taking some time to think of decent excuses to visit her, he began appearing almost daily, with some of the worst reasons imaginable!

“Oh, hello Sarah, I’m so sorry to intrude, but I wanted to offer you this lovely feather duster to replace the one my goblins ran off with the other day. It is of course made of pure chicken feathers.”

“Sarah dear, I wonder if you have any of that mortal pain remedy. Paracetamol I believe it is called? The goblins have given me a terrible migraine.”

“Precious, I was just about to cook myself up a delicious omelette with these fresh eggs, would you care for one?”

“Sarah! I don’t know what to do! The goblins, they…  They’re trying to build a catapult! Do they know something that I don’t? Should I be preparing for war? Sarah help!”

“Are you any good with political negotiations? No, don’t ask questions, just give me a yes or no answer. “

    “Dear Lord, Sarah! The goblins, they’ve set the bloody hedge maze on fire. It turns out the catapult wasn’t for an upcoming war, no instead they’ve used it to fire burning barrels of ale at the labyrinth!” (This particular instance was followed by Sarah coming home from classes the next morning, to find Jareth seated in her patchwork armchair, elbows resting on his knees, with his chin planted firmly on his interlocked fingers. Without so much as a question asked, Sarah had made her way into the kitchen, leaving Jareth there for thirty minutes, before returning with two bowls of steaming hot pasta, and a glass of wine for each of them. After this occurrence, Sarah found herself no longer dreading Jareth’s impromptu visits, and instead she simply worked around them. Jareth also realised, that perhaps he no longer needed an excuse to visit her any more, and soon found himself inviting himself over whenever he pleased, just for a chat.)

 “Sarah? Is there any particular reason you are holding onto those biscuits with such force?” Jareth chuckled, as he smirked at the brunette beauty before him. She had been standing in the same position for the past five minutes, her only movements those of when she breathed, and blinked. She had that far off look in her eyes she often adopted when thinking of particularly fond memories, or dreaming of somewhere she would rather be. Jareth found himself hoping for her to be thinking of memories, and prayed she didn’t despise his presence enough to dream of herself elsewhere. She blinked her eyes slowly, before returning to the kitchen, where her body remained despite her brain being a million miles away. “I… Sorry, I was just thinking about what to do now that I have destroyed all of my eggs. I was supposed to be making a cake for work tomorrow.” She blushed, knowing full well that Jareth knew that was the last thing she had been thinking about. Even though he had no actual clue of what she had been remembering, it doesn’t take a scientist to know that no one spends that long thinking about eggs.

“Well dearest thing, isn’t it just an amazing coincidence that my gift for you, just so happened to be goblin city fresh eggs!” Jareth grinned at the exasperated sigh that came from Sarah. She was onto him! He had used that excuse before to visit her, he had hoped she wouldn’t remember!

“Thank you, Jareth, I do appreciate it. But don’t you want to keep them? Either for yourself or the goblins?”

“The goblins don’t particularly like eggs. They prefer chickens as an animal, alive and clucking, and terrorising my throne room. Not chickens pre, all of that. As for me? I never have a shortage of eggs in the kingdom.”

“Are there really that many chickens in your kingdom, that you have enough eggs to keep you in stock?”

“You have seen my labyrinth love, surely you registered how many chickens there were just hanging about?”

“Well, uh, you see… I had always assumed you had put them there, thinking they were some sort of scare tactic…”

“I… I genuinely do not know how to respond to that Sarah. After setting the cleaners on you, you thought the chickens were there to frighten you?”

Sarah felt the blush creep up her cheeks at hearing how silly it all sounded now that it had been said out loud.  And that damned look Jareth was giving her just made her want to scream at him. Instead she threw the pack of biscuits at his head, smirking as it hit him square in the forehead.

“Now that was just rude.” Jareth muttered, and he picked up the biscuit packet off the floor, feeling the broken cookies inside the wrapping.

“That’s two casualties this evening! First the eggs, now the biscuits? When will your murderous spree end Sarah?” Jareth cried in mock horror, his lips curling into a smile as Sarah rolled her eyes at him.

“It will only end when I have murdered the greatest threat this world has ever known!” She declared, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Oh? And who is that my dear?”

Read chapter two here

My Masterlist

[digiconjurer]

Examination of Mahoutsukai Precure’s ending

(A majority of this was written close to a year ago before Star Twinkle Precure wrapped up and Digimon Adventure Kizuna came out. If you enjoyed this, maybe pledge to my patreon so I can write more articles like this)

The second-to-last episode of Mahoutsukai Precure is an oddball, unlike a lot of the other ‘endings’ for past Precure seasons. Usually, the big focus is on just beating the big bad and then goodbye. But here, goodbye is not the end. It’s just the beginning. So let’s talk about it.

The final battle of any series, whether that be a book, an anime or even a fanfic is usually meant to be the highlight of that particular work. A culmination of all the events that have occurred in the story with usually higher production value than everything that’s come between - the last hurrah for the team before they head onto the next season.

But as final fights go for Pretty Cure, Mahoutsukai can be described as … alright. In a season where the focus has been less on exciting battle scenes and more on world-building and the characters, the next couple minutes are no different. Sure, it’s refreshing to see the multiple forms of our heroines in one fight. But it doesn’t really show off all the tools that our heroines have. For example, where are most of the minor linkle stones that the show made a huge deal out of in the early half? Surely those could have come in handy here. Maybe they could’ve been used as additional attacks for giant Hana’s bracelet shooter. Just throwing it out there.

But with the dust now settled and the big bad, the time has come for both worlds to separate. But not before Riko casts just one more spell - a promise that the pair will meet again. They click their wands together and part via the forces of gravity pulling them to their respective worlds. Which is the perfect time for Mofurun to monologue about talking to Mirai. Then Riko joins in - talking about the prospect of them meeting up again, with Mirai finishing it all up by promising to meet both Ha-Chan and Riko on the sixteenth-day moon (the 16th lunar day). All while the background goes down the same street - starting with a shot from the first episode and progressing through the trio's journey. Then just Mirai running at the end.

Of course, there are a number of things to compare this ending too - a lot of yuri manga/anime endings (the ones where the main couple doesn’t get to be together/or one of the girls decides to marry to guy), Princess Kaguya, even Mahoutsukai Sally (one of the first magical girl ‘anime’ and also created by Toei Animation). Heck, a big part of previous Pretty Cure seasons endings is that our heroes need to give up their powers and fairies with the promise that maybe they would get to see each other again. Time marches onward and that doesn’t happen, our heroes growing up. Sure, Hugtto did play with the idea of said precure coming back. But then promptly deaged most of them. Because then they could use all the stock transformation sequences.

But there’s another parallel I would like to highlight here. One that probably is going to sound bizarre and out of left field. So let's talk about Digimon Adventure Tri of all series. More specifically, the relationship between two of the side characters - Daigo Nishijima and Maki Himekawa.

Part of the first group of humans to ever ‘visit’ the digital world on top of ‘saving’ it from the Dark Masters, they too were forced to give something up - their digimon partners. Unlike the chosen children/digidestined that would come after, their digimon were to become the Sovereigns - guardians of the Digital World… who get themselves captured and do jack shit in their home universe. Like seriously, by the time that the events of 02 occur, all of them are trapped away and the digital world is once more in disarray

For Daigo, that meant letting Bearmon become Azulongmon and actually be plot relevant.  But Maki isn’t as lucky. On top of serving as a vessel for Homeostasis, she is forced to watch Tapirmon be turned into a beam of light in order to defeat the Dark Masters and seal them away for a couple decades. At least till the cast of Adventure comes around and solves that problem.

Much like those precures, Maki and Daigo’s ‘ending’ serves as a beginning for their story. What little is actually shown on screen.

In the years that followed, the pair finish their education, go to university, graduate and get married. We'll come back to them later, though. For now, let’s return back to Mahoutsukai Precure and see what it has in store for us.

Following a commercial break, we return to 'adult' Mirai heading out for the day. She takes a ride on the subway to a university in Tokyo for her classes. You know, normal adult stuff.

At first glance, this sequence makes it appear that Mirai has ‘given up’ on the promise to reunite with her friends and accepted that such magic could not work now. But, we are only seeing the events at the 'end' of this separation. It's quite possible that she spent a good chunk of time holding on to that belief at first, in the hope that she can reconnect with Riko and everyone else. But eventually, she accepted (partially) that it isn't time yet for them to reunite - that a time will come for both the magic and non-magic world will one day be reconnected.

After her classes, Mirai meets up with her friends to watch a soccer game that involves one of them. While late, she does get to see one of her friends score a goal and cheer him on.

After, our heroine walks home with two of her friends. One of which gets to the subject of seeing witches back in middle school. While Mirai doesn't really say anything in regards to the matter, it does spark something within our heroine's head. A reminder of days long gone.

Back at home, Mirai gets to helping her grandma make dinner. At some point, the conversation turns to talking about how Mirai still carries around Mofurun and how her grandma brought the bear to Mirai in the hospital. The conversation shifts, with Mirai thanking her grandmother for the stories she tells and telling her that’s the reason she met ‘her’.

Let’s take a second to take what she just said. Not Riko. Just ‘her’. While her memories of Riko and time as a precure are still there to an extent, huge parts of it have fallen through. Even in the face of everything laid before, she holds onto that wish - that spell she and Riko cast all those years so they could

But then Mirai’s grandmother says this:

Earnest bonds are your strength. When our feelings are connected, we can make miracles.

On paper, that sounds vaguely philosophical, but not world-changing. But in the context of our finale, it’s the message that Mirai needs in that moment.

After a quick dinner, night falls on the town. Our heroine, however, is suffering from insomnia. There’s no music playing in the background. Just silence. In a way, we’re put right into Mirai’s shoes.

Mofourun takes a tumble, forcing Mirai up. She puts her teddy bear back up, only to be greeted by a gust of wind and a view of the 16th day moon. Which layman’s speak means it's the 16th lunar day on top of it being nearly midnight. Our heroine gets excited, but tries her best to temper her expectations.

She makes a beeline for the park as things come to a head. This is to some extent, a routine that occurs once a lunar month.

What follows is Mirai walking ‘backwards’ - in a more of a metaphysical way. For most of this episode, her mind has been in the present - pushing forward into an unknown future. But here, she ‘fills in’ those on the other side of everything going on. Well, just Riko. But you get the idea. Then she finishes it off by telling the sky above that there’s so much to tell her as the music finally picks up. But it’s not the regular ost we’re treated. No, instead we get the movie insert song ‘Two Wishes’ as Mirai says she misses someone and heads off. Finding a tree of sorts, she gives it a touch. Which results in a strangely-shaped twig falling out. Picking it up, she gives it a wave and says the magical words. Nothing happens. Unsatisfied by this outcome, she drops the twig and begins to make the walk back. But as our heroine reaches the end of the path, she remembers her grandmother’s words. Which is timed for the midway point of Two Wishes so that you hear ‘I want to tell you, I love you’ Damn. You’re not being subtle here, Toei.

Mirai makes the journey down the path once more, culminating in her picking up the twig and running over to the fountain. Once there, we get another 

She says the magic words in front of the fountain, asking to see ‘you’ again. So she shouts that sequence again. On her third shouting, Mirai pauses mid-sentence and get treated to a sequence of images from the first episode. The fourth is a similar story, with images from episode 3 through 5 and 9 appearing. From our perspective, it looks as if the show is recapping previous episodes. But from Mirai’s, she remembers all of this to the best of her abilities. It’s like watching something you were in, but you’re manning the camera instead of being in the shot. Or something like that.

Mirai shouts her spell twice more as tears begin to fall down. This time, we are treated to a scene from episode 22 (our main couple reuniting with Ha-chan) and a scene from episode 44 (where our trio are holding hands and cuddling together). After, she repeats the magic words and asks to be together with ‘you’. Then it’s back to her default cry as the scene of Ha-chan disappearing from earlier in the episode plays out once more. Followed by the scene of our heroine looking up at the rainbow. Back in reality though, Mirai shouts the magic spell seven more times. After the seventh uttering, she tells the ground she just wants to see ‘you’ again and finishes off with a please.

Silence comes over the area once more as our heroine’s pendant flashes and the twig becomes covered in light. Mirai says the magic words one more time, followed by ‘Riko...all of you...I want to see you again…’

With that we have silence once more as the twig reverts back to. Mirai is then caught by complete surprise, which is the perfect opportunity for a gust of wind to come out of nowhere and launch our heroine up into the sky. Just ignore the fact that she would be suffering from a possible  lack of oxygen, but no matter. At the very least, the silence has finally been broken by the arrival of music.

She falls for a couple seconds, only for the train to make a sudden appearance. Then it’s back to falling. Except oh no! Mofurun is hurtling back towards the earth. Strangely, the music comes to a stop and a hand grabs hold with a solid thud. Well, something like that. Then…

You should be more careful. Mofurun is your dear friend after all, right?

A smile forms on Mirai’s face. We flip around and find ourselves staring down an adult Riko. All while ‘Sparkling Star 100 Carats of Miracles’ starts up.

Their pendants flash one more time, allowing for the pair to float out and have what’s essentially a romantic embrace - confirmation of their wish grant as we’re treated to a shot of the train’s passengers.

Back with Mirai and Riko, they do a twirl around in the air. The tears begin to fall as they continue to hug. Which is promptly interrupted by Mofurun complaining that they were smushing him. So the couple break away and let the teddy bear have some air. Following their arrival is Ha-chan. Which culminates in a twirl around with a still picture of our trio. The episode ends, but there is still much to talk about.

Let’s back up a little though - post the battle and the sequence of Mirai growing up. Outside of the voices of people talking, the music is missing for most of the episode. Taking the place of it is ambient noise - the sound of a subway, people chatting in class, etc. Stuff like that drives home the big difference between the Mirai of the pre-time skip to that of the Mirai of the post-time skip. Mirai has accepted (to an extent) that Riko is gone for now. Instead of moping about how much she misses her girlfriend and trying to continue living within the memories of those ‘good times’, Mirai chose to move on with her life and seek out new opportunities in the non-magic world. Paradoxically though, she still held onto some parts of those days long gone. Her hairstyle is more or less unchanged, with the same to be said about her choice of clothes. All the same people still hang out with her, even taking the time to cheer each other on at sporting events or just engage in small talk. Mofurun still tags along wherever Mirai goee. But now they are just a passenger in their messenger bag instead of their one and only ‘friend’ that gets treated to one-sided conversations. 

Even the music heard here adds to this feeling. Two Wishes is a song about a person telling their lover all the things they love about them and how much they want to confess their true feelings to. To connect once more after such a long time after realizing far too late their feelings the first time around. While the person singing the song with Mirai is Mofurun, they are serving as a stand-in for Riko in that moment.

Sparkling*100 Carat of Miracles on the other hand, is a bit more of an enigma. Sure, it sounds like a song just announcing the various forms our two heroines can take. But within all of that, a line is repeated - ‘Future Miracle! Shine strong and bright like a diamond’. Once near the start of the song and then right near the end.

Judging by the moment it starts up, the song is more in reference to the event that had just passed - the future miracle finally happening after both parties have waited patiently for that one moment to see it occur.

And while we don’t get back to Riko until the very end of the episode, we can surmise that she went through a similar process as Mirai did. She stuck around with her friends and colleagues, trying her best to make it through life. While we're never actually told what upper education (High School and College/University) is in the Magical World, Riko was able to score a job as a teacher. All so that when the time comes, she is able to see Mirai again on top of possibly helping support her financially. Like some sort of old married couple.

Which brings us right back to Maki and Daigo. When we last left off with the pair, they had gotten married. Such bonds were sadly not meant to last, however. The marriage fell through and they got a divorce after an unknown number of years

Now in Tri proper, they’re two divorcees reluctantly working together as part of their government job. Said job involves keeping an eye on the cast of Digimon Adventure except for Kari and TK for some reason. Well, that’s Daigo’s job at least. Maki though, never really left the moment of Tapirmon’s death. A little girl trapped in the body of an adult, her only wish is to reunite with her partner and be useful in the eyes of Homeostasis. A task that she put all her eggs into one basket, pushing everyone and everything else out of her life out of her life until her goal was all that remained. But in pushing everyone out and holding onto her good memories, Maki allowed darker forces in and was swallowed up by her own misery by way of the darkness in a parallel version of the dark ocean.

Daigo didn’t get out so lucky either. Getting swallowed up with Tai (one of the main characters of Tri), the two take a tumble down a large hole. Where offscreen, Daigo manages to impale himself on… something. Or perhaps someone stabs him on the way down. We're never told what happened in that fall or how exactly Tai of all people managed to stay unscathed.

Nonetheless, our pair find themselves in a mysterious laboratory. Except it's holding the main cast of 02 and Gennai for some reason. Tai finds Daigo, who reveals that he’s been hiding things from Tai and crew on orders by way of Maki. And that Maki has ties to Yggdrasil.

Then a guy who looks kind of like Gennai appears and turns off life support for the tubes and announces that he’s going to blow up this lab. Thankfully, one of the tubes is coincidentally left empty. But there’s two people and just one tube. Meaning one of them has to stay behind.

Tai examines one of the tubes, only for Daigo to lock him in. When Tai asks why Daigo just trapped him in said tube, Daigo is all like ‘it’s the end of the line for me. I’ve fucked this all up, so remember me and let my time with you mean something.’ Then he presses a button and shoots him and the other tubes out, expiring from his injuries mere moments later as the explosion passes through the laboratory. While the exact state of his body is not shown to the viewer, it’s likely he was reduced to

As endings for characters go, this is a far cry from the happy one found in Mahoutsukai Precure - preaching on the danger of holding onto those dreams and the possible self-destruction that can result from letting that dream be the only guiding force in your life. On top of pushing the people who care about you out of your life by way of a dream that will possibly be the death of you. A perfect counterbalance to this happy end of sorts.

[precuredaily]

Precure Day 160

Episode: Yes! Precure 5 12 - “Protect Urara’s Stage!” Date watched: 23 November 2019 Original air date: 22 April 2007 Screenshots: https://imgur.com/a/KiGZvA2 Project info and master list of posts: http://tinyurl.com/PCDabout

When did this become the Precure stage show?

As I indicated in the last review, this is one of those episodes that just really sticks out in my memory, but it turns out I don’t actually remember much about it at all. It’s not as impactful as I recalled, but it represents a step forward for Urara and it has a kickass fight. Let’s get started!

The Plot

Urara has been tapped to host a stage show at an amusement park, which is a big break in her career. She meets her friends at the park, along with her overly prepared manager Washio and Masuko Mika, who’s there to write about her for the paper. Mika and Washio hit it off right away, speculating about where Urara’s career could go from here, culminating in a Hollywood movie and an Oscar nod.

Urara arrives at her rehearsal, goes through wardrobe, and starts going through her routine. Unfortunately the star of the show has had an emergency and called out. Nozomi quickly volunteers to play her part in the show, to save Urara’s debut. Unfortunately, she isn’t a very good actress, but it’s too late to cancel the show now. Outside, we see Girinma handing out fliers for the show and making ominous remarks about its content....

At showtime, the stadium is filled with children and their parents, wanting to see the forest animals show. Nozomi is extremely nervous, despite Urara’s reassurance, and trips and falls during her entrance.

Before she can recover, Girinma drops a mask onto a prop tree, which turns into a giant Kowaina. Out in the crowd, Mika is confused by this strange story direction but the audience all thinks it’s part of the show. (no magical falling asleep here!) Rin, Karen, and Komachi all rush onto stage with Nozomi and Urara but aren’t sure if they should transform with all these people watching. However, Urara’s actor instincts kick in and she tells the audience to look at up just as Karen convinces the stage manager to turn on the spotlights, blinding the audience members momentarily. The girls seize their opportunity and transform into Precure. They fight the Kowaina as the opening theme starts playing, and it’s a very visually spectacular fight as they run, jump, and dive through tree branches and vines to try to land a few solid hits on the monster. It tries to shoot a leaf storm at the audience but Mint blocks it with her shield, and then Girinma tries to attack a nosy Mika, who is protected by Aqua. Dream manages to shoot off a Dream Attack, defeating the Kowaina, as Girinma retreats. There’s a gag during all of this where Washio is worried because he can’t see Urara, and somehow didn’t connect the dots when the five girls transformed on stage.

Mika, recognizing the Pretty Cures from her first meeting with them, takes lots of pictures of the battle and plans to write a piece about them. They’re sure that this time they’re busted, but once again Nuts runs interference, going up to her in his human state and saying hello. The next day at school, all the students are crowded around the newspaper again, and wouldn’t you know, it’s an expose on Nuts and Mika’s fated reunion, with a tiny article about Urara’s stage show at the bottom. Washio comes up and asks Urara to put on that show again, because the Precure fight was a smash hit with audiences, but the other four girls wave it off, and the episode ends.

The Analysis

I don’t know where to start. Urara is giving it her all in this stage show, and she even improvs a bit to keep their cover and distract the audience while they transform. She’s really good at what she does, and she has a promising future as an actor ahead of her. She presents a really energetic performance for the kids and tries to mitigate the danger by making it seem like the monster attack is part of the show. The show must go on, indeed! Additionally, when Nozomi steps up to play the part of the rabbit, despite fumbling in the costume and having trouble with her lines, Urara just rolls with it. I love that all the girls are really rooting for this to work out for her, and during the fight they defend the sanctity of the show and Urara’s part. And honestly, props to Nozomi as well. She’s trying her best here. She’s clumsy and has been kicked out of the drama club before, but her heart is in the right place, and there are no better options so the other three girls agree to help her with cue cards.

there’s a new kaiju in town

The battle itself is action-packed and filled with some dynamic scenes that I will turn into gifs. It’s one of the better fights in this show so far. I love how the girls fly around through the vines and branches, delivering some swift ass-kickings. There is some reused footage from the opening, namely the part where the five girls line up as the song counts off “One, two, three four five!” The kowaina makes itself a difficult target, despite its large size, and that keeps the battle interesting. It takes some work for the girls to actually get to the mask and break it. The large amount of civilians keep the stakes high, as they’re easy targets for a massive attack. This lets us see Mint use her shield in a more interesting way than normal (because I’ll be honest, a lot of the times she blocks the enemy’s attack when she could just dodge). I love getting to see her make use of her strengths. Shield cures are highly situational, but this was a situation in which it was very effective. Also, I liked how Mika’s insatiable lust for a scoop put her in danger. She won’t learn from it, but it’s an action that had nearly fatal consequences because Girinma was out for her head, and it took Aqua intervening to save her. When she did that, she referred to her by name, which might cause Mika to recognize them down the road... I don’t think so but we’ll find out.

Speaking of special attacks, there’s something I want to discuss about them. In the FW shows, the special attack was only ever used as a finisher. They never used Marble Screw or Twin Stream Splash to attack in the middle of a battle, but they do use their special attacks in Yes 5 as both attacks and finishers. Some of their attacks simply don’t work as finishers (I mean, I’d like to see them TRY to finish a monster off with Mint Protection, that’d be cool), and pink rules so you usually see Dream Attack used to take down the monster. What they don’t have is a clear group finisher. That will change, of course, but as long as this persists, I get a sense of inconsistency about what will and won’t destroy a Kowaina. The use of special attacks that aren’t finishers is a bit of a deviation from the original concept but it’s still tame here. I don’t think they ever go too far down this rabbit hole, but it’s worth noting.

This episode manages to mix in a good amount of comedy on the side, without overwhelming the main plot, and I admire the balance. Washio is a fun manager but he is really over-prepared. He appears carrying two giant duffle bags for Urara, despite the fact that her outfit is provided, and among the many things he has brought are some charms for....

Nono Hana could use that last one

He and Mika play off of each other really well, they’ve got a nice comic relief duo schtick going on. Mika, of course, is mainly in this to get a good story for the paper, and having a local celebrity at school is a good outlet. Reporting on her career advancements is a big step up from reporting what she ate for lunch. Both of them readily buy into the fight scene, assuming it’s part of the show and not that there was some kind of actual danger, and Washio is just distressed that Urara has disappeared instead of fearing for his life. At the end of the episode, both of them ramp up the comedy in their own way. Mika’s crush on Nuts has not yet gotten old, and probably won’t for a while yet (don’t quote me on that), so continuing the running gag where she gets distracted from a big story by a chance (or intentional) encounter with him gets a thumbs up in my book. I don’t get tired of seeing Nozomi and Rin’s exasperated faces when they see her reports.

Also, Urara has a nice little gag there where she’s hopping up and down trying to read the paper because she can’t see over their shoulders. I’ll gif that soon.

Urara gets a couple of other moments of note, where she seems to be breaking the fourth wall. At the very start, when she’s sort of practicing her introductory speech to the crowd, she turns to speak to the show’s audience, and Rin questions who she’s even talking to. (Rin makes a good straight man, by the way).

The last gag of note is when Coco and Nuts say they tagged along because you never know when a Pinky could show up.... and then a Pinky shows up right then. Yeah, Pinkies, remember them? They’re kind of supposed to be driving the plot. There’s more of them than there are Heartiels and Miracle Drops combined, yet they’re barely mentioned.

Just some other small observations before I wrap this up, I love everybody’s street clothes in this episode. They’re a little different from what we’ve seen them wearing before.

except for Rin

Urara’s sailor blouse and knee-length skirt make her look a little more mature than her normal attire of puffy shorts and sleeves. The other four are wearing outfits strongly reminiscent of their clothes from the ending. Rin and Nozomi’s outfits are exactly that, except for the butterflies. Komachi and Karen’s outfits are the same as what they wear in the ending, but the colors are a little different.

for reference

And for some reason the art in this episode is very hit-or-miss. A lot of good shots still seem slightly off model. It’s a little jarring, it’s not low-detail (except for one laughably bad frame), it’s just that faces are drawn with warped shapes. Yes I am going to chronicle every time this happens in every show, it’s notable.

What happened here is that they quickly zoomed out to show the whole stage, and they wouldn’t need to show much detail, so to achieve the effect, they started way zoomed in on the cell before pulling back, rather than create a new drawing for one just frame. It’s not really visible when watching.

So, animation stuff aside.... this was a great episode! Since the major theme of this show is finding and chasing your dream, showing each girl’s different progress in that regard is important, and they do it so well. Urara is a bit further ahead than the others, but she still has a lot of work to do to become a famous actor, and her friends want to help her however possible. It’s what this show does best, and this was a fun stepping stone.

Next time, Rin is getting pulled in every direction at once! Look forward to it!

Pink Precure Catchphrase Count: 1 “kettei” by Nozomi herself, 1 each by Washio and Mika (spoken together)

NOTE: I’m going to come back to add some gifs to this post at a later date. I really wanted to include them the first time around but due to unforseen circumstances, this review was delayed several days past when I wanted to get it out, so I didn’t want to delay it any further. I’ll make a post on @pcd-status​ when I update this.

[tunafishprincess]

Blue Moon Rising, Chapter One: Becoming: Part 1 (I)

Summary: In a twist of fate, James Lake Junior disappeared mere days after his tenth birthday. His body was never found. 

Five years later, Atlas is a normal teenage boy, who just happens to work for a murderous secretive organization of shape-changing trolls. It's not so bad though. The healthcare is free at least.

Until he finds a magical amulet.

This must be some sort of mistake. Atlas can't be the Trollhunter. Merlin was insane. He worked for the Janus Order for Pale Lady's sake. What was that stupid wizard thinking?

Suffice to say, things get...interesting.

(Updates every other Friday.)

Chapter One

The morning sun peaked up from the edges of the city, another sleepless night coming to a close.

Sunrises in Arcadia really were the best. Not that he had been anywhere else. Traveling outside of the town's perimeters was forbidden. It had been a quiet watch for the teen, which was rare, considering the company he kept.

It was chance that he stumbled on the scene. Normally he was inside by this point, away from prying human eyes, however something made him stray from his usual routine.

Perhaps it was boredom. After all, Atlas had little to do at the Janus Order outside of his regular duties. He could have trained, he supposed, but that would mean getting beaten within an inch of his life (changelings did not pull their punches) and he was already smacked around enough in his daily life.

So, when he came upon the fight between Bular and the Trollhunter in the canals, suffice to say, he got a little sidetracked.

He felt for the Trollhunter, he really did. Bular was a monster in every sense of the word. Even now, nearly six years later, he still shuddered in fear whenever he crossed paths with the troll. It was no surprise to anyone at the Order that when Bular showed up, Atlas was out.

Still, the Trollhunter held his own, better really.

“Yield, Kanjigar.”

“A Trollhunter never yields.”

Atlas resisted the urge to roll his eyes, because in all honestly, who said that in real life?

Wait. Scratch that. The image of his mentor came to mind.

Pulling out his snack, the boy watched in open curiosity as the fight continued. The leaves kept him hidden from view of the trolls thankfully. Not that they would have noticed. Both trolls were completely engrossed with killing each other.

Atlas had to hand it to the Trollhunter. He was a formidable fighter, able to match most of his blows with the larger troll's. Still, matching was not winning.

Bular kicked the other away, the Trollhunter’s sword ripped from his grasp, sliding underneath the morning light. Atlas winced when the Trollhunter went for it, his hand burned by the sunlight. That had to have hurt.

His fingers itched to help, to throw the poor troll some sort of bone, but he knew it would be all for not.

The Trollhunter would probably have baulked at his offer anyways. Atlas frowned, looking down at his smaller claws. He was just some changeling’s bastard, the unfortunate offspring of a human and changeling. As a hybrid, he was useless. At best, he would simply be a minor distraction, another reason for Gunmar’s son to kill him. At worst, he would be killed before he even entered the battlefield. While fast, he was considerably weaker, lacking the monstrous strength, durability, and access to magic that other trolls had.

As the sun rose, so too did the battle, with the Trollhunter running up the canal to the underside of Arcadia Bridge, Bular trailing close behind.

As entertaining as the battle was, it looked like it was coming to a close, as was the window of time before Atlas had to return home. The sun was getting mighty high in the sky, which meant he had duties to attend to soon enough.

He bit into his meal, the apple crisp and sweet. If he were an optimist, he would be cheering this “Kanjigar” on. It wasn’t often someone could go toe-to-toe with Bular. He seemed like a courageous fellow, someone Atlas could have admired on a good day.

But today was not a good day.

Instead, he felt sadness for the troll. Bular knew his surroundings better than the Trollhunter did and would take advantage of any opportunity before him. The Trollhunter had lost the moment he exited the underground in search for the monster.

His thoughts soon proved true. Bular cornered Kanjigar to the edge of the bridge, forcing half the other’s face into the sun. This would not be pretty.

“It’s me or the sun.” Bular said. “Either way, you’re doomed.”

To Atlas’ surprise, the Trollhunter did not yield. Instead, he said, “No. The amulet will find a champion. We will stop you and your master. I may end, but the fight will not.”

And then he threw himself off the bridge.

Atlas lurched forward on instinct, then caught himself by grabbing onto one of the tree branches. There was nothing he could do. He watched, stomach rolling as the troll fell, turning into rock in record time. The sound of stone cracking and breaking apart against the bottom of the canal nearly made Atlas vomit.

Not even Kanjigar could defeat Bular.

He shook his head and turned away.

Atlas pitied the poor fool that amulet chose as its next victim.

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

Sneaking out was easy; sneaking back in was the hard part.

Especially when your minder was Nomura.

The walk home had been far less exciting than the morning’s previous affair. The tunnels to the Janus Order were complex, but Atlas knew them like the back of his hand these days. He’d snuck in through one of the unguarded passages and headed for the kitchen.

Gable, the head (and only) cook at the Order, had grumbled at the sight of him. Atlas ignored the changeling, instead focusing his energy on his task.

He scrambled to make a nice light breakfast; some toast with butter and jam with a side of fresh oatmeal sprinkled with cinnamon and brown sugar. It was not his best work. Still perfectly edible, but certainly not up to Atlas’ standards (which, in all honesty, were higher than most). He only hoped Stricklander was too busy to notice.

Too bad he forgot about Nomura.

She caught him in the hallway to Stricklander’s office, her gaze unreadable, yet penetrating.

Nomura immediately blocked his path.

“You’re late,” she said, arms crossed over her chest.

His shoulders rose instinctively. He looked down, embarrassed. “Sorry, I got distracted.”

She began to walk ahead of him, her heels clicking against the floor. “Stricklander has been looking for you.”

He matched her pace. “What for?”

“Bular was approached by the Trollhunter during the night.”

“Oh really?” Atlas said, his voice a little too high.

Her eyes swept over him, searching. “What do you know?”

“Only what I’ve seen.”

“Which is?”

He put a finger to his lip playfully. “That’s classified information, Nomura. What will you do for me?”

Admittedly, that was probably not the best thing to answer back with.

She moved quick, her arm underneath his neck, slowly tightening like the hold of a anaconda. As much of a warrior as Atlas liked to think of himself, he was pretty much defenseless against Nomura, troll form or not. The woman knew his weak points to a tee. He struggled to keep his tray upright, the orange juice perched precariously at the edge.

“What’s Rule Number Three, brat?”

He gagged, “Don’t fuck with Nomura. Please don’t kill me.”

“Are you going to tell me then?”

“Okay, okay,” he gave in, face turning red. “Just...need...air.”

Loosening her arms, he stepped away, giving himself time to breath. She tapped her foot impatiently.

He opened his mouth to ask ‘what the hell, Nomura’ but closed it. Now was not the time.

Normally, the Changeling would have smirked at his reply and smacked him upside the head, not try and put him in a choke hold.

If she was this on edge right now, then something must have happened.

Something big.

“Well?” She asked.

“I may or may not have watched some of the fight between the Trollhunter and Bular.”

“Some?”

“Okay, like all of it,” he admitted.

“Stricklander will kill you if he finds out,” she pointed out, checking her nails. “You were supposed to be back before dawn.”

He opened one of the doors for her, leaning his back against it. “Which is why Stricklander isn’t going to find out about that part.”

“What is Stricklander not going to find out about?” A British voice echoed from beyond the door.

He straightened up as the man of the hour appeared.

Ah oh.

He shook his head at Nomura. Please don’t tell him, he silently tried to tell her through his wide eyes.

Nomura paused, as if considering it, then smirked. “Atlas was out past his curfew,” she said.

His mentor, tall and imposing, looked down at the teen, clearly unimpressed, but thankfully not angry. Yet.

“It was an accident,” Atlas confessed. “It won’t happen again.”

“That’s what you always say,” Stricklander said, face deadpan. “What was it this time?”

“Well, you see—” he began, only for Nomura to talk over him.

“He was watching the fight between Bular and the Trollhunter.”

Stricklander clicked his pen.

“And was that an ‘accident’ as well, young Atlas?”

“It wasn’t on purpose...” he muttered under his breath.

His mentor sighed, then waved his hand at Nomura, “You can go now, Nomura. I’ll deal with him.”

The woman nodded, smacking the kid on the back as she left. “You’re in trouble.” She said in a sing-song voice.

Atlas slowly mouthed the words 'traitor.'

The door shut behind, leaving the two of them alone.

Stricklander’s office was spacious, one of the bigger rooms at the Order. Atlas walked over to his desk, setting the food down, then swerved around to sit in the smaller chair on the other side. He knew the procedure. They all did.

The wait was the worst. Stricklander took a sampling of Atlas’ prepared breakfast, first biting into the toast, then taking a sip of the glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. Using a spoon, he daintily scooped up a bit of the oatmeal and blew on it, not once, not twice, but three times, before finally putting it into his mouth. He rounded the desk towards Atlas, then leaned back against the desk in a poised manner.

The man relaxed, his expression fond. Finally, he said, “You know you don’t have to make me breakfast every day, young Atlas.”

“I know, but you enjoy it.”

Stricklander smiled, “That I do.”

“Does this mean—”

He gestured at the boy with his pen. “But this doesn’t excuse what you did. What have I told you about going off on your own without my permission?”

Atlas rolled his shoulders, ears lowering in guilt. “That I shouldn’t do it?”

“Precisely,” he sighed. “You put not only yourself, but the rest of our kind, in jeopardy when you do not follow orders. What if another troll saw you? What if a human did?”

“Sir, I was caref—”

“I’m not finished. Watching the fight between the Trollhunter and Bular was foolish. End of story.”

Atlas rubbed his arm absentmindedly, back hunched. “I know.”

“Your punishment will be decided at a later time at my discretion, is that understood?”

He nodded, quietly remarking, “Understood, sir.”

The Changeling bent slightly forward, hands brought together in a steeple. “Now, report. What did you see?”

Atlas sat up straighter as he gave his account. “I arrived at the canals between approximately zero four hundred and zero five hundred hours. I stayed out of sight in the tree line above. Bular fought the Trollhunter right below Arcadia Bridge. He cornered the Trollhunter on the bridge, however the Trollhunter sacrificed himself to the sun.”

“I see,” he commented, taking another drink of his orange juice. “What of the amulet?”

“If I’m right, it is still within the Trollhunter’s remains, sir.”

Stricklander stood, moving around the desk to the boy. “Someone will need to retrieve it then.”

“Let me do it, sir,” pleaded Atlas.

He gave the boy a bemused look. “You? During the day? Absurd.”

“I’ll be careful,” he assured. “I’ll use the sewer tunnels. No one will see me, I promise.”

Stricklander folded his arms behind his back, examining Atlas. “This won’t subtract from your punishment, young Atlas.”

He nodded. “I know, sir. Let me do it.”

“Why?”

The teen clenched his hands into fists. “I-I want to do more for the Order. Everyone else is doing their part and here I am doing nothing.”

“You’re not doing nothing, young Atlas. You’re my faithful assistant.”

“That’s just it, sir. The others, they don’t accept me like you do. I want to show that I’m useful, that I’m not some stupid useless half-human.”

Stricklander stilled, moving closer to the teen. His hands rose from their position and came down upon Atlas' shoulders. “You...is that how you think of yourself?”

Atlas shrugged, looking away. “What else should I think?”

“Young Atlas, you are a valued member of the Janus Order and nothing anyone says will change that. Our Lady would be honored to have you as one of her followers if she saw you half as much as the way I do.”

“Then let me do this, sir,” he said. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

Stricklander brushed Atlas' bangs away with his index. “Alright. Fine. I expect you back at the base as soon as possible however. Is that understood?”

He grinned, nearly jumping out of his seat. “Perfectly.”

Yes! Atlas almost pumped his fist. It was rare for Stricklander to give the teen tasks outside of his daily mundane ones, like feeding the goblins or polishing the man’s ancient sword collection. It warmed the boy’s heart that the man trusted him so. With luck, he would be back within the hour, amulet in hand.

Perhaps the changelings would think better of him. Maybe even Bular would lay off trying to knock his head off as much.

Too bad Atlas had terrible luck.

[randomfandomimagine]

Magic (Newt x Reader)

Character: Newt Scamander

Fandom: Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them

Categories: Reader Insert, Female!Reader, Muggle!Reader, No-Maj!Reader

Title: Magic

Requested by anon:

Can you do a Newt Scamander imagine where he gets jealous because his beasts like the reader more than him and he realizes he's on love with her please? I love your blog!!!

Requested by anon:

can you do an imagine newt from fbawtft about where one of his creatures(i forgot the name) was stealing christmas items and stuff and reader and newt has to save christmas then in the end they meet under the mistletoe and you can end how you want. 

A/N: I will change the second request a little bit because it’s not currently Christmas, but I’ll do something similar anyway. 

New York could be awfully boring sometimes for such a big and exciting city. I was just making my way on the streets as usual, minding my own business when something out of the ordinary happened.

Almost like I was tempting fate by being bored of my routine. Almost like it was making me want to be careful for what I wished for.

It wasn’t anything too crazy, but it was crazy enough to get my attention.

A poster turned to life! I was calmly walking along the sidewalk when I noticed something with the corner of my eye, and it was the fact that a poster in the wall on my left was moving!

I frowned and stopped, thinking that it was impossible. Then I glanced at it and saw the man on it was blinking! Until I blinked myself and it was no longer there.

I would have thought I was seeing things if it weren’t for the fact that a nearby dog barked at whatever it was too.

“I must be tired” I just said to myself nonetheless, shaking my head and carrying on with my life.

While I was at it, I accidentally bumped with a woman who gave me an unfriendly glare.

“Sorry” I mumbled with a forced smile.

“No-maj…” She said under her breath before she walked away.

“What did she just call me?” I wasn’t sure, but I could feel it was an insult.

I shook my head in outrage and just kept on walking.

Had I know that wasn’t even the beginning.

*

I wasn’t sure if people were bumping into me on purpose or if I was the clumsy one. However, I bumped into someone yet again.

“So sorry” The man mumbled quietly.

“My bad” I apologized too, proceeding to keep walking.

However, I accidentally kicked something that was on the ground. So I looked down to see a brown suitcase. It probably belonged to that man, so I tapped him in the shoulder when I noticed something.

“Excuse me, mister”

“Yes?”

“Your suitcase opened” I decided to conceal the fact that it might have been me hitting it on accident what caused it to open.

He didn’t say anything back, just gulped and looked around. Something told me the man probably figured whatever was inside it had escaped.

As a matter of fact, I had seen a glimpse of a small creature running around. Quite mischievously, too. A strange dark furred creature with tiny paws and a rosy snout.

“Must have seen something shiny, the bugger” He mumbled, probably to himself.

“Yes, that creature just escaped from it” I still said, following after the man while he chased it nervously.

We were basically kneeling on the floor, looking around for that sneaky little thing. I just decided to help him since it seemed to be a pet of his or something like that, and the man was very worried and anxious about it running away.

“Where is it?” He whispered in annoyance, whipping his head to one side and the other.

“I could have sworn it went that way, mister” I pointed towards it with my finger, direction that he followed with his eyes.

Before he went after the creature, however, he glanced back at me. Something in his eyes shifted slightly, a mild surprise and kindness. He probably realized just then the fact that I was actually trying to help him.

“I’m… Newt Scamander” He introduced himself, trying to be nice while also avoiding the embarrassment of the scene.

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N” I nodded to him with a friendly smile. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Scamander”

“Oh, please” The man absently said as he headed in the direction the creature had gone towards. “Call me Newt”

“There it is, Newt!” I told him once I finally spotted that creature.

He just threw himself to get it and held it in his hands, tightly so it wouldn’t escape again.

“What kind of animal is that?” I asked curiously, watching as it wriggled in Newt’s grasp.

“An exotic one” He just replied without looking at me.

“What is it called?”

“Niffler”

“Interesting name”

Newt focused on opening his suitcase and locking the Niffler inside it. I was just there, slowly standing up and brushing myself off as I watched him in curiosity.

“I had never seen something like that” I mumbled in awe, just as the creature disappeared in the depths of the case.

My words seemed to catch Newt’s attention, because he quickly turned his head and looked at me fixedly. For a moment he didn’t say anything, just stared at me quietly, with a mild concern creasing his brow. Then he piped up.

“Thank you, Y/N” Newt mumbled with the smallest of head nods.

I fondly grinned at him, noticing how introverted and timid he was. How his eyes hardly ever met mine. I got a liking to Newt Scamander very quickly.

*

The following events were a blur. I couldn’t recall what had happened next.

All I could put together were hazy images and memories of a wild creature, similar to a giant hairless rat. The last thing I clearly remembered was walking along with Newt, chatting and getting to know each other a bit. 

Until he got worried about something. Then we started running and that’s where my mind becomes blank.

*

I had finally woken up from such a wild dream.

I sighed in relief and opened my eyes. However, I found myself in a strange place. I wasn’t in my room, I wasn’t in my house.

Instead, I was in a messy area filled with wooden little drawers, metallic cages, plants and little jars filled with strange and varied liquids.

“Where the hell am I?” I wondered aloud, looking around the place.

It sort of reminded me of a cabin. A very odd cabin.

I sat up just to realize I had been lying down on the ground. And something had been covering me all along, a garment that looked familiar.

A dark blue trench coat.

I heaved a startled sigh and slowly stood up, leaving the trench coat on the floor.

I felt a bit dizzy, but other than that I was greatly surprised as to how healthy I was taking in consideration I had passed out. What happened again?

Keeping close to the walls of the room in case my strength failed me, I ventured myself into that strange place. However, I stopped in my tracks when I heard footsteps.

A figure appeared in front of me, startling me. Fortunately, I managed to interiorize my alarm and not squeak or jolt up.

There he was again. The same freckled face, the same green eyes, the same disheveled brown orangish hair. Just that this time he was only wearing a white shirt, he had taken his orangish vest off as well as his coat. And he had undone his bowtie.

“You! You’re real…” I uttered, staring at him in disbelief.

“What was that?” The same British accent.

“Nothing” I chuckled nervously, averting my eyes when I realized I was still staring at him.

Newt made a pause and put his hands on the pockets of his dark trousers.

“Are you feeling alright?” He asked as he came closer.

“I… I think so” I was actually light headed, but it probably had to do with the fact that I had just discovered magic existed and it wasn’t just a dream.

I bashfully rubbed my neck, just to realize it hurt.

“No, don’t touch it” He urged me, taking a closer look at my sore area.

“Where are we?”

“It’s quite hard to explain”

“What happened to me?” I tried again, hoping he had a proper answer that time.

“A murtlap bit you” Newt explained quickly, gingerly placing his fingers in my neck. He seemed to know what he was talking about, so I tilted my head to the side to let him examine the bite.

“A what?” I had hazy memories of a rat-like creature lunging at me, so I guessed that had to be whatever he said its name was.

“You look alright, though” He replied absently, turning around. “Quite surprising for a muggle”

“What did you just call me?”

“S-sorry” He turned back round to face me. “It’s just we have slightly different physiologies”

I was completely lost, did he mean men and women? British and Americans?

“What does muggle mean?”

“Non-magical people” Newt replied, shoving his hands on his pockets again.

Suddenly, the word ‘no-maj’ popped into my head. Was muggle the British word for ‘no-maj’? Was Newt some sort of wizard then?

It was in that exact moment, as I was about to ask him just that, when I realized. Everything felt surreal, but not because it was a dream. It was all magic!

“Magic…” The word escaped from my lips before I could stop it.

Newt grinned in response and finally left the room, motioning over his shoulder for me to follow him.

“You should be alright, just a wee bit of sweating” He was saying as he kept walking. “Perhaps a small rash on your neck, but that is all”

I shook my head, perplexed, and finally went after him. As I went through the threshold I gasped in amazement at the sight and feeling of the place we were standing on. It changed drastically from the cabin looking area.

This one seemed like a deserted place with very few vegetation.

It was suddenly dark, and thunder broke out in the sky. Even though it felt like we were indoors. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t assimilate the place we were in. Neither would I manage to describe it or put it into words.

I stood right next to Newt as he held something up that shielded him from the rain that was falling into us. At first I thought it was a regular umbrella, until I realized it was transparent. Was the handle a magic wand?!

A few seconds later, it stopped raining and so he put his wand away.

“Come on down” Newt was looking up, so I did the same.

A giant bird with shiny golden feathers was flapping its wings, flying above us like a majestic eagle. As it lowered and settled on the rock before us, I squeaked and jumped back seeing how it was even bigger up close.

I felt Newt hands settling on my waist as he kept me in place, comforting me with his gentle touch.

“Please, don’t be afraid of him” He showed me a wide smile. “He’s harmless, I promise”

“I’m not” I chuckled in awe. “He’s just really big, that’s all… He surprised me”

I breathed out, still not getting over the incredible and gorgeous things before my eyes.

“He’s beautiful!” I uttered, staring at the bird. “Does he have a name?”

“Frank” Newt nodded with a small smile, petting its head as he allowed him to. “He’s a Thunderbird”  

Suddenly, my new wizard friend watched me with wide eyes and then looked back at the beautiful creature.

“What’s wrong?”

“He’s usually quite wary of strangers”

When Newt glanced at me and smiled a tiny bit, I realized my mouth was wide open in awe so I closed it.

“Can I pet Frank?” My gesture of bewilderment was replaced by a smile of joy.

“But be gentle” Newt nodded, making his eyes dart from him and me.

Very slowly and gingerly, I reached out to touch the Thunderbird. As I did, I was mesmerized by the beauty of his golden eyes.

I could understand why Newt’s passion was to care for them and protect them. These creatures were certainly captivating, even if some were more mischievous than others. But they were beautiful, magical and majestic.

My fingers brushed against his feathers, but Frank didn’t pull away. So I gently got closer and began to caress him sweetly. The bird flapped his wings and lightly wriggled his head as though he liked it.

I let out a chuckle of awe and glanced over at Newt to celebrate the small victory. But then I realized he was staring at Frank in silence, his brow slightly burrowed and his lips pursed.

“What’s wrong, Newt?” I asked him sadly, noticing he was mildly upset.

“Nothing” The man pursed his lips tigther and looked at me shyly, a soft pink blush appearing in his cheeks. Was he actually jealous that his creatures liked me so much?

“I’m sorry if I…” I began to say, actually feeling a little bad.

“It’s... it’s alright” He forced himself to smile. “I’m just quite surprised to see they’re fond of you already, I don’t know how it’s possible…”

“Magic” I replied with a bashful and tender smile. “You should be used to it by now”

Then Newt showed me a genuine smile that made my heart skip a beat. There was such sweetness and kindness to him that I just wanted to stay by his side.

I suddenly spotted something moving somewhere, so I looked to see something green peeking out of Newt’s chest pocket.

I squeaked because I noticed it was an adorable little head, shaped like a leaf.

“Who’s that cutie over there?” I excitedly asked him, not being able to suppress my surprise and enthusiasm.

“This is Pickett” Newt put his hand in front of the pocket and the tiny creature hoped onto it. “He had a cold and needed some body warmth”

“Aw” I stooped to take a closer look at the tiny creature. “Could I hold him?”

For a moment, he hesitated. But he showed me he trusted me by taking my hand with his free hand and positioning it with the palm up. Then he approached the hand in which he carried Pickett to mine.

“Go on then” Newt encouraged the small green creature. “Do you want to go with Y/N? Come on now”

I gasped in amazement when Pickett did, in fact, walk to my hand.

“This is great!” I tried to contain my excitement not to scare the tiny creature in my hand off.

“It’s a Bowtruckle” The man told me, watching it lovingly.

Just by the way he looked at his creatures, you could tell how much they meant to Newt. How important it was for him to look after them and how much he loved them.

At the same time, the thought of him being kind enough to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves sent a pleasant wave of warmth through me. He was someone unique, very loving and endearing.

“Thank you, Newt” I felt the urge to tell him because it was heartwarming and marvelous to be standing there right next to him. To be witnessing those gorgeous creatures and see that tender side of him.

“For… for what?” He stuttered, taken by surprise by my sudden gratitude.

“For sharing all this with me” I told him, truly grateful, and showing him a genuine and heartfelt smile. “All this… magic”

Just then, I locked eyes with him. And for a second I almost completely forgot about the Bowtruckle in my hand. 

Bashful by his glance fixed on me with attention for the first time since we met, I looked away. Instead, I focused my attention on Pickett and caressed him carefully with just one finger.

Newt was still staring at me, amazed by the mere sight of me. Something told me that didn’t happen too often. It seemed like he was impressed by the fact that his creatures trusted a stranger. That they trusted me. As though that was a seal of approval for him.

With Pickett still in my palms, I slightly turned to glance at Newt. A shy smile formed in his lips, so I reciprocated the gesture.

Bashful because of the sudden connection I was feeling with him, I averted my eyes and fixed them back on Pickett. The tiny creature jumped back into Newt’s pocket, which made me chuckle because it was so adorable.

When I looked up again, I caught Newt’s eye. Even if he looked away.

Who would have known that I would end up meeting a British wizard who brought me with him inside his suitcase to meet his fantastic creatures. And who would have known that we would end up falling in love.

[seenashwrite]

The Midwife: Part One

Status: Complete (1 of 4) Word Count: 3K Category: Mini-series; Behind-the-scenes canon compliant; Historical; Mystery; Teamwork; On-the-hunt   Rating: Teen & Up Character(s): Various O.C.s; References to familiar people/places Pairing(s): N/A  Warnings: None Overall Summary: In the mid-1950s, a member of the New York City chapter of the Men of Letters is sent to the United Kingdom to assist with what appears to be another stack of cold case dead-ends, when he suddenly finds himself questioning one of his closest-held convictions. 

          *~* The Midwife : Master Post *~*

There was once a small pocket of unmoved time in Kansas, about half a century's worth, and it came to an end simply, no magic required. A turn of a key in a lock, two sets of steps across a threshold, then it was over, just like that. Simple maneuvers were in contrast with the Men of Letters' old hat routine but the new occupants of their abandoned shelter under Lebanon favored such actions when they had the option.

These legacies were not alone in that position, though they may have found the premise hard to swallow as the years went by, as their knowledge grew. Their encounters with a few of the more interesting members of their inherited fraternity would have done little to convince them otherwise. Seeing is believing, and what-have-you.    

Proof. Tangibility. Something solid, something that could be held in the hand, studied, documented. Rumor meets research meets methodology. Hunter meets weapon meets monster. So, in that respect, more Men of Letters than not.

No one would have faulted the Winchester brothers for missing the typewriter at the very back of the lowest, farthest space, under the rotting table, inside the water-damaged and disintegrating box, completely covered by shadows and cobwebs in that brick-walled cellar of a storage room.

Perhaps some fault - they had lived there for years by the time the typewriter's keys began to move for the first time in decades - maybe that room should have long been discovered, its items sorted. The youngest would have found the books of value, slightly molded as they were. The eldest most assuredly would have found the vintage weaponry of interest, if not use.  

Should they ever go hunting in their home, and should that hunt take them to the dark corner, and the box, and the rusted device, a yellowed paper wrapped on the roll, filled with words in faded ink would await them, though they'd need to be timely: things of such nature do eventually tend to fall to pieces.

Kendricks Academy, just outside London - 1956

.

I've heard it said that if you question your own sanity, then the thought in-and-of itself means you're not. Insane, that is. I found that reasonable, though I suspected many a lunatic had to have felt it creeping on, so reason, yes; comfort, no.

Burt flicked a tiny paper ball across the huge library table to get my attention, and I tilted my head slightly in his direction, met mischievous eyes with my own, ones I suspected were dull and glazed-over and a step shy of insanity. A small snicker was my confirmation, and it was quickly shifted into a mild throat-clearing when our monotone host glanced over his shoulder in our direction. Undeterred, the long, thin stick in his hand went back to pointing - poking, really - at the projected data on the wall, the droning getting right back on track.

This was how I'd die.

He was such a promising young man, they'd write. Twenty-four, taken long before his time, found still sitting up in the chair, his beloved research scattered around him. He is survived by an incredibly angry fiancée, bereft over the meticulously-yet-indecisively-planned wedding that shall never occur. In lieu of flowers, donations may be made in his name to the Men of Letters, United Kingdom Headquarters, London. Please earmark as funding for booze-filled credenzas in all meeting rooms.

It wasn't just the London chapter - my home chapter in New York City was filled with fellows who could bore with the best of them, and though I loved my job, this assignment was working my nerves. I'd thought my breaks in the cold cases department - especially the last one - would send me into the more active areas of our duties. Active without action, for the most part, but I would've happily taken it.

Instead they’d sent the Lily Sunder investigation on without me, then sent me across the pond, a stack of ice-colds awaiting me in the United Kingdom. And, of course, the not-so-brief briefings delivered in succession by brethren who grew increasingly brain-numbing. Thank heavens for Burt.

Per usual, he seemed to take everything in stride, easygoing to a fault. He was only around five years my senior, though his somewhat girthy physique and heavily balding scalp made him look older. And while he supported me in my desire to see what else our secret society had to offer, he seemed perfectly content languishing with the cold cases.

Even the fact that we'd been boarded at the school didn't seem to faze him, thin mattresses and bland food be damned. His pockets were always filled with candy, a bit grandfatherly, but I found myself grateful. I'd taken to munching whenever he did, and after almost three weeks, my waistband had started to protest - made sense why Burt was perpetually suspendered. Still, I took the offered piece of wax-wrapped taffy as we walked back to the dormitory.

"No more bubblegum?" I asked, pulling the sticky wad in two before I stuck it in my mouth.

"Nah," Burt replied, talking around an entire piece of taffy settled into his cheek, where it was causing a giant bulge. "Got in my mustache the other day."

"Stop blowing bubbles."

"Then what's the point, Jacky?"

"Got me."

"Say, you heard anything from home?"

"Colleen changed her bouquet again."

"I meant Lily."

"No, lilies were three bouquets ago."

"The Sunder case, you moron."

"Ah. No. Last time I asked, Peterson said it was now 'eyes only'." I capped off my response with rolled eyes, then went ahead and stuffed the other half of the taffy in my mouth. Burt knew better. I hated talking about it.

"Still makes me mad," he replied in a sympathetic tone.

"Nothing makes you mad."

"Well, that did! Jack, you're the one that found the lead, confirmed the Canada sighting---"

I sighed. "Burt---"

"And for pity's sake, the Nephi---"

I hocked my taffy into a nearby bush before I stopped in my tracks, turned, gripped his forearm. "Burt!" I hissed, glancing up and down the walkway. 

Smatterings of students were still lingering and walking about, most headed into the common areas or their next class. And though we were outside, I still couldn't believe he was speaking so loudly, so casually. Saying that word aloud at all.

Burt's brow creased slightly and those always-rosy cheeks pinked up a notch, but then he swallowed his taffy and grinned. "Wanna skip that lukewarm, eighty-percent-dough-shepherd's pie in the canteen, head to a pub? I know one that serves actual hot meals, overfill the pints...." He trailed off in a slightly sing-song voice, wiggled his eyebrows so much they almost hit the rim of his cap.

I sighed again, then shrugged my shoulders. "Why not?"

It wasn't simply that they'd taken what I'd come to consider my case away from me. It was the nagging feeling I had that despite the fact Sunder had caused no harm to civilians to our knowledge - well, excepting herself - the Men of Letters' continued interest in her was more than just loose-end tying. No reason but the pangs in my gut to think it was some kind of vendetta. Then they'd allowed more and more access to the files once my early, modest hypothesis showed promise, and I'd stumbled upon quite the reason during a fact-finding mission to the chapter house in Kansas.

House. Ha. Basement, more accurately, and the cold case guru there, Haggerty, was so excited to have company he would've let us redecorate the place in pastels if we'd asked nicely enough. Anything to keep me and Burt there longer, keep him occupied.

He was one of the more enthusiastic members, reminded me a lot of my father, truth be told. More into the metaphysical than I was, sure, but with a logical mindset. I understood why I'd been ordered to consult with him, given the nature of Sunder's appearance in the grainy photograph we'd obtained. The professor hadn't aged a day since the time she'd disappeared from what was left of her life, and our working theory was witchcraft.

Witchcraft didn't just mean magic in my business; it was one of several sub-classifications under the magical umbrella. And if you wanted the skinny on the workings of witches, you called on Haggerty. Even though he'd retired not long after we'd met, he never hesitated to get back in touch with any thoughts he had on the ideas I'd written to him about, the more far-fetched ones  I'd want to bounce off of someone before writing them up for field work consideration. Besides Burt, he was the most open-minded member of our little club. At least, that I'd ever encountered.

Which was why I was glad it was just Haggerty in the room with me when I'd had to sit down due to my shock, right there on the concrete floor, deep in the bowels of that small-town basement, just to the front of the rickety file cabinet I'd been plundering.

"You okay, kid? What's that you got there?" he'd asked.

In reply, I'd simply held out the folder to him when he'd come over and stooped down beside me.

He'd let out a low whistle, went from a stoop to taking a knee as he flipped through the papers. "This must've come from your neck of the woods, you know," he'd said cautiously. "Not sure I know how an old northeast recruitment file would've ended up here."

I knew.

They'd chalk it up to a mistake if I'd asked, a clerical error fifty-some-odd years gone, that the documentation should've gone to storage with anything else not germane to the ongoing nature of our work. Besides, they would say, it doesn't matter to the case, didn’t change the goal. Lily Sunder needed to answer for her meddling in otherworldly affairs, she needed to be monitored, needed to be questioned on her intentions.

But the truth was obvious - to me, to Burt, to Haggerty - that the real reason the file had been sent away from the New York house all those years ago was because they were embarrassed.

Sunder had refused no less than fourteen separate invitations to join the Men of Letters before the turn of the century. They'd been after her research talents since she was barely into adulthood, based on her early work in apocalyptic studies. They got more aggressive once her teaching career took off, and - judging by the verbiage in the copies of the letters they'd sent and the documentation of multiple recruitment trips to Maine - they were practically salivating over the thought of having a bonafide angel expert in their ranks.

"I still think it's why the Moles sent us here," Burt was saying, using our pet name for the ancient, die-instead-of-retire administrators in the Men of Letters.

He took large swig of beer to wash down the meat-and-two veg he'd just polished off. The rationing from the war had ended in the not-so-distant past, and it seemed all the cooks in the land - excepting the ones back at Kendricks, that is - were excited to get to do things up right again. Not that I had much of an appetite, but if we'd had to be banished, it had come at an ideal time, at least in that respect.

"We weren't banished."

Oh. I must've said that part aloud.

"Eat your food."

Burt was channeling his mother then - I knew because of the full British accent on all three words. His father was an American Mole, while his mother was the daughter of a very well-respected professor at Kendricks, not to mention all the uncles and cousins on both sides. Their family visited London for several months each year, so between that and hearing his mother every day, he was good for the occasional drift from American English, though he’d let loose around me from the jump.

There was some beef that kicked up off-and-on between the American and British leadership, and I never got invested, but a few of the older members in New York would dole out side-eyes and huffs at Burt's sporadic "pints" at "pubs", "mash" and "chips". It was more than the accent thing, though.

He kept close to the vest in general. I think because they weren’t shy about their resentment - some odd contempt for him for not being more of a go-getter, double legacy and all. Though about all that pedigree garbage, Burt couldn't have cared less. 

They didn’t know how hard he worked behind the scenes, how much Burt cared about our mission. Not how I knew. And I also knew how much he cared for me.

So I obeyed, eating a few bites of some of the best fish I'd probably ever had, and he went on.

"I'm telling you, them pulling us out here right after Sunder? It's not a coincidence. Tell me you're not thinking the same thing."

I set down my fork, wiped my mouth, then looked at him as seriously as I could manage. "If I think too much about it, I'm going to get mad. Besides, she's not out here, and they know it. She may've been, but it's not as if there's any way to determine it - she's been running since Zeppelins were all the rage. I don't know what it is, but it's not Sunder."

Burt pulled his small, leather-bound notebook from his inside pocket and untied the strings, ready to make his case. I started stuffing carrots I didn't want into my mouth so I wouldn't slip from my current irritation at his pressing into that anger I'd just warned him about. My best friend was an absolute mule.

"Wales: Llandudno - old Liddell summer home location - nothing.  Cairnholm - what was left of the Peregrine house - mild trace. You know how many kilometers we covered in Wales, total?"

"No idea, but I bet you---"

"Nine-hundred eighty-seven-point-eight, Jacko. You know how many miles that is?"

"Burt, are you going to be arriving at a point anytime in the near---"

"Then here," he continued, flipping a page. "Bloomsbury - former home of the Darlings - mild trace. All those random train depots - all the tunnels, ALL of them, Jack---"

"I was there," I said, downing the last quarter of my pint quicker than I should've, mentally crossing my fingers that his end point would have an actual theory behind it this time.

"---and we only confirmed potential - just potential - trace on one."

"You do recall when they ponied up about already knowing all this? I wanted to punch that guy."

"The short fella, the white-haired gentleman, who likely would've died on the spot if you had done?"

"Yup, that’s the one," I shot back casually, then glanced around. I caught our waitress' eye and held up my empty mug with what I hoped was a somewhat genuine smile. Burt was still going.

"All-in-all, not a definitive sign of an active hidey-hole to be found."

"I hate when you call them that."

"Window, door, aperture, passage, thinning, portal - still a hole. I stand by it."

"Fine."

"Kirke estate - every single room - not even a hint of anything."

"I'm going to rescind your best man status if you keep this up."

"Colleen can’t stand me, she'd be thrilled. Hell, Jack, make it her wedding present for all I care."

I frowned. “Jeez, Burt. What is with you?”

Then he frowned. “I was actually listening to their briefings. Were you?”

"Barely," I replied honestly. "They're sending us on follow-up field trips that first year initiates should be handling, and I actually miss our office and the city and my family and even that stupid tiny room in that overcrowded chapter house."

"And your fiancée."

I gave him a look. "I'm tired of chasing down what have always been children's stories with bits of truth in them somewhere. Bedtime tales that have been around long enough - plenty long enough - that if there were anything important to them, the Moles would've sussed it out when they were initiates."

Thankfully the waitress brought over our next round then, and I set into mine like a man just crawling in from the Sahara.  

Burt huffed at that, then said, "Tomorrow's the first time we're going somewhere that's not a rehash. You didn't notice anything new and different about the briefing today?"

"That it's the closest I've gotten to empathizing with the undead."

He flipped his notebook around to face me and planted a finger above several sets of numbers. "Exact latitudes and longitudes, exact area of square kilometers to cover." He flipped another page. “And here's the inns we'll be staying in. We're gonna be gone for a few weeks, and I know it's not just a hop-skip from here, but this shouldn't take more than four or five days, give-or-take.”

I set my mug down slowly, scanning over the notes quickly. He was right. I raised my eyes to his. He grinned when he saw he finally had my interest.

“I think they might've been testing us with all this other stuff, make sure we were accurate on the traces we'd found, see how thorough we were in following up with any living witnesses, how detailed we were in reports. I think this trip is why we're here. Because if I wanted to whip up a nice little spread, keep people away from my hidey-hole? This is exactly the type of place I'd put it.”

I stared at him for a few moments, my normally whirring, ever-processing mind at a complete standstill.

Now he leaned in closer. “And I think I have an idea about how it connects to the Sunder case - to your theory.”

Burt wisely didn't say the word - though the volume of the pub's patrons would've likely drowned it out anyway - and instead just kept studying my face.

“Spit it out,” he finally ordered.

I inhaled and exhaled a deep breath, glancing down at the scribbled locales, then back up, obeying Burt once more.

“What in damnation do they think is out on the moors?"

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