#Third wave preview

[lymtw]

Thinking of Toji who buys a Polaroid camera for the sole purpose of capturing you on it. Some of the pictures are candid, like the one he has of you washing dishes. Your sleeves are rolled up as you lean against the kitchen sink. There's very little light shining on you through the window, but your side profile is still visible. You're holding a blue sponge, scrubbing a glass plate clean. Toji loves the domesticity of the image. It was meant to capture the view of his "wife". You're not married yet, but this photo is a preview of what he hopes one day will be a married life with you.

He has non-candid ones as well, like the one he has of you wearing one of his shirts like a dress. He was even able to capture the comfy slippers you wore with dogs all over them. You had just woken up so you had major bed head, and your eyes were slightly puffy and squinted when you looked at the camera lens. Toji remembers how mad you were that he snapped that photo of you. You sluggishly tried to snatch it away, but he held it up in the air where you couldn't reach. You gave up and went back to sleep, but once you fully woke up and saw the picture again, you told Toji to get rid of it because you looked like a hot mess. He lied and told you he cut it up, but really, he keeps it hidden in the glove compartment of his car. He even labeled it with a bold "MY LITTLE GREMLIN" written on the bottom border, beneath the picture. He pulls out the polaroid whenever he's having a rough day. It makes him crack up every time, seeing the way your hair spikes in different directions, from how much you roll around in your sleep. It really puts him in the mindset of thinking that nothing can be so terrible when he gets to wake up to you looking like you've gotten the best sleep of your life.

There are more wholesome ones that he treasures with all his being. One where you're pointing at the enormous waves that crash at the beach. You outshine everything in that picture. The burnt orange sunset that mingles with indigo colored clouds, the foamy, glistening waves that crash onto the sand—they have nothing on you and the happiness that consumes your features as you point at the explosive wave that crashes down a few feet away from you.

There's another one where you're blushing furiously with the cutest shy smile on your face. You're sitting next to him in the passenger seat of his car. Toji had just turned you into mush by bombarding you with sugarcoated words. You clearly remember the way he said "look at my pretty girl..." and "you're so cute, ma". You knew Toji was doing this to rile you up and it was working. You were feeling everything all at once. Your brain was short circuiting, and Toji was enjoying every last second of it. You couldn't even look at him with those blazing cheeks you adorned, and Toji thought it was a perfect picture so he called your name and when you instinctively turned to face him he snapped the picture.

There's one of both of you, where you're keened over in a laughing fit while Toji stares at you with the most lovestruck smile on his face. You had just started dating and nobody in the world was routing for you two, except for Shiu, one of Toji's friends. Shiu third wheeled one night and tagged along to some random bar you wanted to try out. It was supposed to be a date for you and Toji, but thankfully, you didn't have the heart to turn the man away. Shiu took the camera out of Toji's car and it ended up spending ninety percent of the time stuffed in his coat pocket. The perfect moment was hard to spot because Toji seemed so out of character around you all night. There were too many good shots and Shiu almost gave up. He had one shot because he didn't want to catch any backlash from Toji for using up his film, but finally, he looked up from his phone at the perfect moment. Toji was leaning in close to you, saying something into your ear that had you blushing with a growing smile on your face. Shiu always assumes that Toji whispered something dirty because of that sly smirk on his face, but really he just made you laugh so hard. You couldn't sit still on the barstool so you had to stand while clutching your stomach in pain from laughing so much. Toji watched you, sparing a few chuckles himself at your inability to compose yourself. Shiu clicked the button and immediately printed the photo. That picture is one of Toji's most prized possessions. He keeps that one on the dashboard of his car.

Now, Toji has a special collection. One that is hidden from everybody's eyes. Everyone but you because you're the star, as usual, in this special collection. He respects you too much to toss your consent under the rug, so he lets you know ahead of time that whatever happens when the bedroom door shuts will be memorable. With that you expected to occasionally see a few flashes of light during your passionate nights with Toji.

There's one where you're sprawled out on the bed, wearing a bra and some plaid pajama bottoms. You have one hand on your chest, your fingers nestled between your breasts, while your other hand dips into the waistband of your pants. Toji had to snap his fingers so you'd turn your attention to the camera lens because you were staring at him instead. "Over here, pretty girl," he'd say, looking through the viewfinder to center you in the frame. You give the camera a sly little grin, but once you see the flash and you know you've been captured, your gaze returns to him and you give him those eyes. They convey so much love and need for him, and he doesn't have it in him to deny you any longer of his own need for you. You're forever enticing to him, and your level of temptation is unreachable.

He captured your more blissful side in another picture. It definitely wasn't so calm and peaceful before you ended up this way, and Toji never denies it when you stumble upon on this picture during your trips through memory lane. He knows he wasn't gentle in the moments that led up to this picture, but he takes pride in the marks and scratches he left behind on you, making little comments like, "damn, I really tried leaving a scar there, huh?" or "surprised that wasn't permanent" when he sees the deep red lines on your waist and ribs. Every time you look at this picture together, he counts how many marks he left on your back because he loves how flustered you get when it makes you recall that night. The teasing is all worth it when he points at your sleeping face in the picture and tells you you look like a princess. After lots of back and forth about letting him keep a copy of this in his wallet, you caved and told him it was fine as long as his wallet was with him at all times. He became even more protective of his wallet because of this. Now he triple checks and pats his pockets to make sure it's with him anytime he goes anywhere.

There's one that he's very careful with because it has you in a position where you're fully exposed. You're lying on the bed, still fully nude with the most sultry expression on your face. Never mind the fact that Toji had just absolutely railed you and turned you into a mindless puddle on the bed, but you were glowing effortlessly, and Toji had to capture you to make this image eternal. He asked if it was okay to take your picture like this and you just shrugged with a satisfied grin on your face. Your muscles were so tense, you had to stretch your limbs out to bring back a good amount of blood flow. Toji found his camera in time to view you in this unintentional pose. You were brilliant—absolutely stunning. "Just like that, ma. Keep your arms crossed above your head," he instructed. The position made your chest pop more, and your eyes had this twinkle of saintliness to them despite the dark lust emanating from them. Your whole body was in the frame, one of your legs was bent at the knee while the other laid flat on the bed. The mess between your thighs was very much visible, and seeing it through the viewfinder only made Toji's dick come back to life even quicker. You didn't give him a bright and innocent smile, instead you went for the more seductive approach and bit your lip. The flash struck your eyes, and once again, you were a memory on Toji's camera. Toji set the camera aside and climbed right back onto you to continue what was never actually finished.

[gcslingss]

heart to heart. colt seavers.

summary: the last two days were being especially shitty. your close friend colt invites you over to a scene shoot, and suddenly everything becomes a little bit better.

pairing: colt seavers x gn!reader

warnings: heavy fluff, slight angst, kissing, mild swearing.

word count: 1.8k

notes: firstly, yes, the fic's name is mac demarco's song. i recommend listening to it while reading this. secondly, i had a terrible day today, thus the birth of this fic. hope you guys enjoy :)

p.s: colt is the sweetest guy ever. i wish he was real.

Today had been the worst day of the week.

You’d been told off, looked down at, or backhandedly insulted by nearly everyone you spoke to, and that didn’t leave the best feeling in you by the time it was nearly midnight and you were still awake, staring at the ceiling of your room.

Even your mum had called you clingy and ignored you, and your neighbour had started to pretend you didn’t exist, ignoring your attempts to talk to him, to give him the cake you’d made that afternoon, and he made sure to make you see how much of a good time he was having with his girlfriend.

And to top it all off, your best friend hadn’t contacted you in a week. You knew he was a stuntman and therefore was often busy, but that didn’t mean he could completely ignore you.

You really didn’t know what you’d done wrong to be having such a shitty day.

that’s when your phone pinged beside your pillow. You wouldn’t have checked it, but it pinged with the special sound you’d set for Colt Seavers.

What the fuck? There was no way Colt was texting after an entire fucking week.

You were bitter about it, but not enough to ignore it. So you picked up the phone, and saw two new texts from him in the lock screen preview.

Hi :)

You’re probably sleeping right now, but I’m way too excited not to tell you right now

You waited to see where he was going with this. A minute later, the third text came.

We’re shooting a really special scene for the movie I’m part of tomorrow - I have a big role

And then another one.

D’you wanna come? It would be so cool if you did

You would’ve been lying if you said you didn’t feel your heart warm up when you read that, a smile tugging at your lips. Any irritation you felt for him melted away.

You didn’t hesitate to properly open the text and send him a quick reply.

I’m up, shockingly

Yeah, I’d love to come :]]

There was an enthusiastic response, and then he went offline. 

Well. 

At least there was something to look forward to now.

You placed the phone aside and shuffled into the covers of your bed. You needed sleep if you were going to support him right tomorrow.

… … …

“-and apparently it’s some sort of sci-fi movie, and he’s got a whole lot of-“

“Sorry, I kinda need to go.”

And just like that, your so-called childhood friend walked away, eyes still glued to her phone’s screen, still giggling, not bothering to ever give you a wave or second look.

You stared at her leaving figure rather desolately, feeling numb, yet highly irritated. It only took a few seconds for the irritation to simmer down into severe self-doubt.

Were you annoying? Is that why nobody wanted to talk to you? 

Did you say too much? Or were you not interesting enough? 

What the hell was everyone’s problem?

The only who’d shown any signs of tolerating you recently was Colt, but there was this heavy feeling in your heart that even he was being fake. 

Maybe you shouldn’t go to the shoot. He probably only invited you as a courtesy. he probably didn’t even want you there.

Like a fucking sign from the sky, your phone pinged, and a new message from him read-

Hope you didn’t forget you’ve got an appointment with me today doofus

You didn’t want to laugh, but it bubbled through your throat anyway, and something akin to the feeling of holding a warm candle on a winter day spread through your fingers.

He was so annoying.

… … …

You hadn’t moved a single muscle out of your little square for the past 2 hours, your arms stiff by your sides, your hands anxiously fiddling with each other, your bottom barely touching the chair you were given, and your eyes downcast, staring emptily at the sand.

There had been 3 takes of Colt’s super-actiony ‘falling from the sky’ stunt to be approved by the director. 

It was break time now, and all the present actors and the director had retreated to their trailers. the only people outside were some of the snacking stuntmen, two extras fanning themselves, and you, too absorbed in your self-deprecating thoughts to have even realized the shoot was on break.

“You alright?”

Your neck could’ve snapped with the speed you looked up at, and you physically felt your face muscles cramp when you shifted expressions from despairing to absolutely peachy in less than a second.

“Hey! Yeah, I’m good,” you said, forcing a smile, “Just peachy.”

No. That word should’ve stayed in your head. Fuck.

Colt frowned, smiling almost suspiciously, “When have you ever used that word out loud?”

“…Just now,” you unconvincingly said. You were far too tired to come up with a good response.

“Was I good?” he asked, brushing past it, and you nodded, the smile becoming a little bit more genuine than before. 

“You were great.”

He smiled too, and then observed you for a moment, his eyes searching, searching for any sign that you weren’t okay.

That was the plain truth, but you couldn’t let him know - not on his big day. 

“I’m okay, Colty,” you said, patting him on his shoulder. You could see the extras watching your interaction, and your skin prickled.

“I’m gonna get going now, okay?” you said, standing up as stiff as ever, and turned, only to feel Colt’s hand pull on your wrist, stopping you.

“What?” you whined. Colt turned you by the shoulders to face you and watched your face, and you tried to ignore the way his lips formed the softest, fondest smile as he said, “Don’t go yet, c’mon.”

“You…you’re going to be busy, and I probably have something waiting for me at home, and I don’t want to imp-“

“D’you wanna talk for a bit? Maybe in Tom’s trailer?”

It became clear to you that he was not planning on letting you leave yet. 

You thought about how tired you were, mentally and physically. Your brain hurt from all the buzzing, and your muscles hurt from the constant rigidity.

But then you thought about Colt, and his pretty smile, and his big blue eyes, and his husky laughter, and your mouth mumbled a soft “Okay.”

Colt nodded, and slung an arm over your shoulder as the two of you walked across the set towards the trailers.

… … …

“So Tom doesn’t mind if you use his trailer?”

“I mean, it’s not like he knows about it, so…”

You laughed and punched Colt in the arm, causing him to make a face that made you laugh harder.

But then the laughter died down, and your brain started buzzing again. You went silent, a dormant smile still on your face.

Colt noticed.

“I can tell when you’re feeling shitty,” he murmured, and as his hand slid into yours, you wondered how he even managed to use the exact word you used to describe your day.

You shook your head and shrugged, muttering a “I’m fine,” but then he scooted closed to you and began to rub gentle circles on your palm, uttering your name so softly, and something in you snapped.

Tears came to your eyes as your head drooped and you softly sobbed, throat feeling awfully tight.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, voice muddled, “I didn’t mean to cry, I’m sorry…”

“Hey, no, c’mon,” you heard him say softly, and his two arms wrapped around you, engulfing you in a hug you wished you’d gotten ages ago.

His fingers carded through your hair, his left hand held you close, and you could feel his lips by your temple, silent but reassuring.

You cried for an entire six minutes, because every time you told yourself to stop, the nonchalant gaze of your neighbour or the sharp words of your mum flashed in your mind and the tears came back twice as heavy.

Colt let you cry, and didn’t say a word about how you were drenching his jacket in tears, his little movements being the only thing keeping you from collapsing in your head.

When the weight you’d been feeling the entire day seemed to finally disappear, you pulled away, but only partly, still seeking Colt’s warmth.

“You alright?” he asked, voice softer than a whisper, and you felt so relieved when you smiled so naturally, and nodded.

“Yeah.” You wiped away the tear streaks on your cheeks. “I just… had a really bad few days. Everyone sounds a little extra rude.”

“I hope I’m not on the list,” he said, and you chuckled, shaking your head.

“Of course not,” you said. “You made everything better, if anything.”

“Well, I’m glad.”

You looked up at him. His gaze was keen, concerned, and so warm. His fingers were still caressing your palm. 

What a wonderful creature he was.

You found yourself leaning in and kissing him, something he most certainly did not expect, but the  faint sigh he elicited told you he didn’t mind it whatsoever. 

He kissed you back, harder.

Shit.

The heat of his mouth, the feeling of his chapped lips against yours, his large hands cupping your face, and the little sounds he made when you brought his head close seemed to complete the healing of your tired heart, and after what seemed like an eternity, the two of you broke away.

His eyes were fixed on you, flustered, but appreciative now. His face was flushed. 

After a moment’s silence, he looked down at his watch.

“Tom’s gonna be here any minute,” he muttered, his voice hoarse and hesitating. “We should leave this little hellhole.”

“Yeah. Okay.” It was an automatic response, because your brain really wasn’t functioning.

You got down the trailer, and thankfully no one spotted either of you, because of how Tom liked his privacy. 

“There’s a little bit of the scene left,” Colt explained. “They probably don’t need me, but I should go check it out.”

“Of course. Yeah. I-I should probably head home too. I really enjoyed watching you stunt, by the way. It was great.” You gave him a a pat on his back. 

“Good. That’s good.”

Colt nodded, giving you one final grin, and then turned to leave.

No, wait.

“...Colt?” you called out. 

He stopped in his tracks and spun around. He looked expectant.

“Yeah?”

You didn’t know if you were crossing any lines with what you were going to say, but at that moment, you didn’t exactly care. 

“I love you,” you said, and the words came so easily. “And thank you.”

You could see Colt’s breathing hitch, his chest raised mid-breath. Then, slowly breathing out, he murmured the words “I love you too” back, before he asked-

“Could I, um, come over tonight, maybe? I’m gonna be free,so....”

You’d forgotten anything and everything that had annoyed you at this point. All you could hear in your head was Colt now.

“Yeah, of course. Please.”

He grinned at your response, and he gave you a little goodbye wave, before walking away.

Two little hearts became whole that moment.

[ellitx]

Pls share those yandere Alastor concepts with us sometime! No rush and no specific request at this point, but I would love to see more of what’s on your mind, I really enjoyed the first one! :)

Yandere Alastor concepts

well this isn’t really a spoiler per se but i suppose i’ll give everyone a preview of Alastor and darling’s relationship since it’s going to be mentioned a lot (albeit in little details) in the upcoming stories

first part | second part | third part

word count: 1.4k

warnings: fem!reader

Before arriving at hell:

Alastor and darling are colleagues in the radio station they worked at.

She works as the scriptwriter and is in charge of creating the scripts for him (mostly for the weekly Saturday gossip)

Eventually, the longer you worked together, the less Alastor needed a script since he’s good at ad libbing

But he finds an excuse he needs one so you can visit his office and give it to him. For example, he needs a proper guideline for his upcoming broadcast

Most of the time he’ll invite you for a coffee inside and you’re worried your boss may find you slacking off the longer you stay, but Alastor reassures you it’s still job related discussion

He’d offer you a cup and you happily accept it

Once he knows you also prefer teas, expect there are several options prepared (mostly coffee cuz he doesn’t like teas)

After work, if it’s getting too late, he’d offer to walk you back home, AND he even gestures to you to hold onto his arm which you really find it sweet

Now Alastor’s a real gentleman. You find that very charming and you brush off his little touches such as his hands lingering a little longer when giving his script or when he stands next to you while the producer tells you the new ideas and his arm is brushing over yours

But Alastor can never forget the time you patted his head and praised him

He was flabbergasted. Shocked even. His smile was stiff like a mask. Then he looked away from your gaze and quickly walked towards the door

You were worried if you did something wrong due to his abrupt departure. Maybe he wasn’t comfortable being treated like that more than you thought

If only you knew what was going on in his mind…

The next day he was back to his usual self, but more chirpy and lively. It somehow unnerved you but you disregarded such thought and waved at him.

As usual with work life, you wrote the new script, your producer stayed back to give suggestions on how to improve the script, and Alastor was supposed to prepare himself for the recording.

Nope.

He stayed and tweaked the script. He would brush against you, giving you small jolts each time, and every time you subtly turned around, his glazed eyes met yours and you quickly returned to your typewriter.

His gaze is more intense. As if a hawk is waiting for their prey to take a step out of line. When you turned your face away, Alastor continued to watch you from behind. Your heart was beating so fast, you wished you could leave the booth and go back to the comfort of your house.

After the success of the latest episode, you weren’t expecting an invitation for a nightcap, especially coming from the infamous radio host. With the recent market crash making stable income a rarity, you found yourself hesitating.

Yet Alastor was persistent and he insisted on footing the bill. The urge to decline was strong, yet as you opened your mouth to refuse, his expression shifted, his eyes darkening slightly while his never-faltering grin remained unchanged.

“How could you refuse him?” Your inner voice scolded.

Before you know it, you find yourself at a speakeasy, a glass of chilled whiskey appears before you. You followed the trail of the arm, a long white sleeve covering the muscles you didn’t know were toned.

Has he always been this well-built?

“Is whiskey not to your liking, dear?” Alastor’s voice cut you off from your nonsensical thoughts.

Your gaze never took off from the glass.

I prefer beverages with a lighter touch than whiskey.

You mentally chastised yourself.

You heard a light chuckle, the wood creaking once he took the seat next to yours. The glass clinked as the small cubes danced along the waves.

“Hm, so my guess was right you prefer light alcohol over heavy ones.” The radio host remarked.

Your eyes widened, hands clamping over to your delicate lips. Did you just say that out loud?

“What’s wrong with wanting light alcohol?” The edge in your voice stung the other. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly at your remark in amusement.

“I never said it’s wrong to like light drinks,” Alastor swirled his glass before taking a small sip.

Your glass was still untouched, although curiosity was gnawing away at you.

“Why don’t you take a sip? It won’t hurt,” He offered.

Glancing at the burning amber liquid reminded you of the fate that awaited anyone who would be careless enough to get their drink mixed up. The cold droplets made you shiver slightly as they drifted along the sides of the glass.

You pushed the glass to him, “You can have it. I don’t want to get a headache when I still have to work on a new script tomorrow.”

Alastor gazed at your liquor. The jazz music of the bar was a nice touch after a tiring day, yet his visage that reflected beneath the soft glow of the speakeasy said otherwise.

“You’ll be working with Clyde?” There was a sharp tone in his voice.

When did he start caring about what you do?

Alastor looked past you, his eyes narrowed dangerously. That person whom you had previously mistaken for just another co-worker seemed more sinister, ready to pounce on any of your weaknesses. Was it because you rejected his invitation earlier?

“Yes,” you nodded meekly, shifting against your seat as you avoided making contact with his eyes. “The producer told me they want a new broadcast for our station. Like a theatrical drama rather than the weekly hearsay from our listeners,” you explained.

A loud crashing sound resounded within the small bar and you flinched, instinctively recoiling at the piercing noise and you gasped upon noticing a blood trailing from Alastor’s hand.

His drink which was half-empty was now dripping on the counter mixing with the blood that seeped through his hand.

“Alastor! For goodness sake, I just bought that!” A shrill voice shouted from the other side of the counter. A short woman in a flapper dress clicked her tongue and ordered the barkeeper to clean the mess.

“Pardon me for the unpleasant commotion. I didn’t mean to shatter the glass.” Alastor opened his palm and it felt like someone had suddenly slammed a brick wall right across your face.

The sight was sickeningly frightening.

You rummaged through your purse and took out your handkerchief, carefully removing the small glasses pricking into his skin.

He observed your careful ministrations with keen interest, a slight thrill shooting through him as your fingers grazed his. It was like experiencing a treat, each touch sending a wave of unfamiliar sensations coursing through him. Sweet yet sour.

The corner of his lips tugged, almost reaching his eyes. Your pale face, trembling hands, tightened jaw, stumbling words of assurance as you asked for medical assistance— he watched your face intently to catch every subtlety of your expression. He wants to devour every single bit, drink it, absorb it, consume it, nibble on it…

You cleaned up the last bits of blood oozing from his left palm, and he clasped your hand in his unblemished one, holding it firmly as he lifted your knuckles to his lips.

A broad grin spread across his face, reminiscent of the Cheshire cat's, and you couldn't shake the feeling that behind his dark eyes lurked a hint of mischief. It was a smile that seemed to dance between sweetness and something more sinister, leaving you both intrigued and slightly unnerved.

His lips that brushed against your skin provoked a shiver running down your spine, a cold realization settling in your bones. It lurked a darkness that sent a chill through your soul, leaving you with a sinking feeling.

—

After the small night of drinking, you promised to call Alastor later. You thanked him and hurried back home.

On the way, your thoughts are continuously turning into worry and fears. You asked yourself: why do you feel so uncomfortable around him? What makes you feel like you’re in danger?

Were you overthinking this? Maybe. But you couldn't shake off the uneasiness inside you.

Did he plan to hurt you? No, no way. It would be impossible since he was an impeccable gentleman.

This fear of the unknown and dread that gnawed at you will be the root of your sleepless night.

[dancy-nrew]

Happy Secret Samol @humanmorph !!! Yo ho ho a pirates life for you!

Id in alt text and also below the cut for legibility

Image one: An Alise Breka book cover. The illustration (meant to resemble an oil painting) features Leap and Figure A back to back, Figure A closer to the camera and Leap behind them. Leap is in a tie dye hoodie, Figure A has a dramatic collar welded to their round torso. Each are holding a sword and fending off attacks on all sides. Laser beams zip across the screen. The title of the book is “High Seas and Distant Stars” and is written on a yellow band across the top of the page. There is a simplified drawing of palisade as a logo for Palisade Publishing. There is a barcode across the bottom left.

Image two and three: Mockup of the inside of the book. Text reads:

The pirate captain, devastatingly handsome — or devastating and handsome, if you put the question to the unlucky sailors across many planet’s seas — lounged about the deck of the ship. A foul wind had blown through the port in the night, and showed no signs of letting up anytime soon. Disadvantageous, and perhaps more terribly, incredibly dull. Exeter Leap had faced down gods and kings and only laughed in their faces; to be trapped here by a measly turn in the weather made his plating itch.

They’d been here a week already, despite no small effort to leave. Unloading, his first mate insisted, takes time if they want it done properly. Leap had insisted he’d never done anything properly in his life and didn’t plan on starting now, but Figure A had tilted their head in that way they had and explained that properly meant more money, which, he supposed, was hard to argue with. Especially considering their other delay. The Bluebird had taken substantial cannon fire in their last battle, and was desperately in need of repairs, as well as the more tedious maintenance work that went into keeping a ship of its size and purpose in fit fighting shape.

So the minutes ticked into hours ticked into days, and here they are, still.

“I’m not a man meant to stay still,” he complains, staring out over the roiling waves.

”Still: up to and including the present or the time mentioned, or still: not moving or making a sound?”

Leap jumps, but only slightly. A pirate can never be too surprised, but he hadn’t realized he had company, lost in thoughts as turbulent as the sea. The familiar red and gold form of his friend leaning next to him is a welcome sight. “Oh- Uh. Both. Either. Not still here, or still physically.”

Figure A nods in easy understanding. They’re better at patience, at being in one place, but Leap thinks they have something restless about them, too. They lean forward as if they have something more to say but then-! A shout! The familiar blistering heat of a laser beam sipping past inches from his face! A scorch mark across metal! Leaps springs into action as

FREE READING PREVIEW LIMIT REACHED

FULL BOOK DOWNLOAD: 45 GLINT

INSTALLMENT PAYMENTS AVAILABLE !

WHOLE BOOK IN 4 ACTS, EASY PAYMENTS OF 15 GLINT EACH!

EXTRAS AND BEHIND THE SCENES CONTENT (AN INTERVIEW WITH THE CAPTAIN HIMSELF!) 25 GLINT!

Image four: A series of sketches of Leap and Figure A.

First sketch; Leap has his arms crossed saying “Thats not how any of that happened!” as he looks over Figure A’s shoulder as they read the book. They laugh and say “I think it’s fun!

Second sketch; Figure A points at the cover and says “Look at my cool collar” as Leap leans forward to look at it and says “it is pretty sick…”

Third sketch: Leap welding a big metal pirate coat-like collar onto Figure A’s torso as they giggle

Fourth Sketch; Leap grins and asks “How’s that?” Figure A says “Thank yo-“ but bonks their face into the collar as they turn their head

Fifth sketch; very small at the bottom of the page. Leap has a hand over his mouth. Figure A’s head slumps forward as they sigh.

[lomlhwa]

tiny baby (c.sb)

pairing: bf!soobin x gf!reader

preview: soobin knows he's big. you've been intimidated by the stories he's told you which has led to your sex life with your boyfriend being pretty much non-existent. now, you feel ready. but it requires some.... practice.

warnings/tags: fem reader, monster cock!soobin, size kink on soobin's part, size training-ish, belly bulge kink, marking, pet names (baby, my love), fingering, use of lube, top/bottom dynamics go back and forth but it's mostly top!soobin, unprotected penetration (wrap it before you tap it), multiple orgasms, creampie

trigger warnings: n/a

wc: 1.5k

song recs for this fic: champagne & sunshine by plvtinum, need to know by doja cat, mmmh by kai, bad by christopher

a/n: this is so intensely self-indulgent, it's gross. please enjoy my fantasies in writing.

you’ve been with soobin since your first year of high school. high school sweethearts, as most people would refer to you. you would consider yourself pretty lucky to have kept the same boyfriend for this long.

unfortunately for the both of you, your cute love story hides a non-existent sex life. neither of you are virgins, having had an on-and-off relationship in your second/third year of dating. you’d slept around and so had he. 

well, he tried to.

see, soobin, as much play as he knew he could get, his size intimidated most of his sexual partners. he’d only manage to actually fuck 2 girls in the two year rocky period of your relationship. even then it hadn’t lasted long enough for either of them to finish.

he’s got good skills in bed, he knows that. but no one else knows that. especially not you. 

do you want to sleep with your long-term boyfriend? of course you do. you have since the beginning of your relationship. but his mistake of complaining about the intimidation of the other women he’d tried to seduce didn’t help you to not feel the same. 

he’d tried to use his seduction tactics on you but it never got very far. 

but this time, you feel ready. this time, you’re going to seduce him. you’re going to sleep with your boyfriend. no matter what it takes. you need it.

while your boyfriend worked today, you got ready for him. you bought baby pink lingerie in hopes that giving yourself an angelic appearance would appeal to him. you gave yourself blushy, sparkly makeup to give the angel look an umph. as you look at yourself in the mirror you feel quite cute. you suit soobin’s taste.

you check the clock, 10 minutes until soobin comes home. you lay out a plush blanket over the cushions of the couch. you situate yourself in a seductive position on the blanket; on your stomach, head propped up in your hands, elbows pressing your breasts together for emphasis. your legs kick around behind you, giddiness and nerves taking you over as the minutes diminish.

your heart jumps into your throat when you finally hear the jingling of your boyfriend's keys outside your front door. you momentarily wonder if this is a bad idea, but you have no time to chicken out. you swallow the lump in your throat and prepare yourself.

the door opens and in walks the love of your life. he stands frozen in the doorway when his eyes lay upon you. his eyes scan your body, the tent in his pants immediately becoming noticeable. you blush but your makeup hides it. 

“hi soobin” you say in your most seductive voice. you get up from the uncomfortable position you’d been sitting in and wave over your flustered lover. he hesitates for a moment before taking his shoes off and walking towards you.

“baby, what is this? what are you doing?” 

“you’ve just been so busy with work, i figured you could use some relaxation.”

you get up and stand in front of your boyfriend. you walk him backwards until he flops onto the couch. you situate yourself on his lap and place your hands on his shoulders. his hands almost instinctively rest on your thighs on either side of his hips.

“but baby, we’ve never done anything like this. why… why now?” 

you run your index finger over his lips, shushing him. his mouth opens on instinct and you take his tongue between your thumb and index finger. you hold it until drool pools in his mouth and spills over his bottom lip. 

“i know we’ve never done anything, but i think it’s time. we’ve been together for almost 5 years” you let go on his tongue and kiss his dampened lips. “don’t you want me?” you grind down on his lap, a groan rolling off his tongue.

“of course i do, my love” he leans his head back against the couch. this motion almost makes you cum on the spot. “but, are you really prepared enough for me? you know i’m… big.”

you nod. of course you do. that’s the whole reason it’s taken this long to get this far. “of course i know, i can feel it” you shift around again, soobin catches his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“we’ll do it, but we’ll take it really slow. i don’t want to hurt you.” 

at that, you connect your lips with his, his lips still messy from drooling earlier. you lick the corners of his mouth to pick up saliva that never fully escaped. he moans into your mouth as your hips roll onto him subconsciously. 

his hands move to grip your ass and he gets up off the couch. you wrap your legs around his waist so he can carry you more comfortably. you press sloppy kisses on his neck as he walks to your shared bedroom. 

he places you down on your bed softly. he pulls his shirt over his head and comes down to hover over you. “baby, i know i said i wanted to take it really slow, but i want to fuck you so bad right now.”

he ghosts his hands over your pretty pink bra and sighs. he cups your breasts and presses them together. he considers asking you if he could try fucking them, but he decides to leave that for another time. there’s a better focus right now.

he slides his fingers under the waistband of your underwear and slides them off you slowly. he presses your knees apart and slides his fingers over your weeping hole. he slides one finger in and you gasp, your hands coming up to his shoulders for something to ground yourself. 

he adds one more, and then a third. you’re trembling at this point. you can barely take three of your boyfriend’s long fingers. are you going to be able to take the monster between his legs?

he adds a fourth and final finger which sends you tumbling over the edge. you orgasm with an abrupt cry of soobin’s name. your shaky hand grabs his wrist to get him to stop his ministrations.

“okay, my baby, do you want it raw?” he shimmies out of his pants and underwear. your breath catches in your throat. you’ve seen soobin naked many times before. but his… monster fully hard makes you clench around nothing. out of arousal and out of fear. 

“yes, raw. please” you scramble to reach into the drawer and pull out a brand new bottle of lube. “please, use this. easier slide and stretch” he nods.

he pushes your head back with his finger on your forehead. you hear the cap on the lube open and he slathers his length in it. he looks up at you for last confirmation. you nod, biting your lip. 

his tip brushes your sopping hole and he pushes in bit by bit. he’s barely in past the tip and you’re shaking like a leaf. when he finally bottoms out, you feel like you’re going to explode. you peek down and see the outline of him in your lower abdomen. 

you brush your hand over the bulge, a whine slips out of his throat. the stretch stings through your whole body. but it’s manageable. 

“please move, soobin” you whine, shifting a little to get some friction. he pulls all the way out to the tip before slamming back in. you let out shaky breaths as your beloved boyfriend sets a delicious pace. 

“my god, baby. you’re so small under me” his arms shake next to your head from using them to hold himself up. “big- ah, you’re so big soobin” your breathing is so rapid that it could be mistaken for hyperventilation. 

soobin’s finger trails it’s way to your clit, the pad of his finger rubbing fast circles. you wrap your arms around him and pull his head down to kiss him. your tongues clash and you nibble on the end of his lightly. 

“baby, baby, baby, fuck” the chant of the pet name, the grip his left hand has on your hip and the circles being drawn on your clit by his right pointer finger sends you over the edge.

the sudden clench from your orgasm trigger’s soobin’s own orgasm. he spills himself inside you, wrapping his arms around your waist, trying to get as close to you as physically possible. 

his sweaty body sticks to you as he trembles. he kisses your collarbone as he breathes heavily. 

“i love you so much baby, fuck.”

he pulls out of you to watch his own seed spill out of you. he grabs a handful of tissues to clean you off. he hands you your underwear and you pull them on. 

he pulls his own boxers back on and climbs into bed next to you, wrapping his long arms around you.

“did i hurt you?” he asks. you can hear the genuine worry in his voice.

“i’m okay, soobin.” 

you curl yourself around him and close your eyes. his soft breathing slowly lulls you to sleep. 

finally, almost five years of fear is over.

© lomlhwa 2023

[minimomoe]

Love Bites pt. 10

No luck needed.

Baker Fem Reader x Toji Fushiguro (mafia au)

word ct: 15.1k, 11 Chapters

Chapters: I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI.

Preview: Toji ruffles Megumi's hair. His son gave him the confidence boost that he needs. “Tonight. I’m doing it tonight. Wish me luck?”

“She’s gonna say yes either way. Good luck,” he mumbles, the sleep pulling him back under. Toji leans down to kiss the top of his head and walks back to the living room where you were waiting for him... 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Ten: Yes

Toji watches in the corner as you talk to your brother the whole evening. You try to beckon him over, calling him to sit next to you but he told you that he’s fine where he’s at. Your eyes would dim, just for a second, but your brother and Megumi would pull you back into the conversation so you wouldn’t stay sad for long. The ring box felt like a brick in his pocket. He has no idea when would be the proper time to give it to you, and it didn’t help that his son glares at him whenever you aren’t looking. 

You are just so beautiful. He didn’t want to interrupt anything that you were doing, no matter how insignificant the task may seem… but that means he has been sitting on this ring for weeks now.

Toji first tried to subtly bring up the idea of marrying you to Sukuna first. First mistake was talking about it to Sukuna. The other man bore a shit eating grin that made Toji want to shove his face into the window while he was driving them back home from a mission.

“I knew it. I fucking knew it! This is good, man. You’re finally ready to settle down and be the perfect househusband I always knew you could be. Did you already get a ring? If so, Gojo owes me $200.”

“Why the fuck would Gojo owe you $200?”

“I said that you would buy a ring and propose by Christmas. Gojo said that you’re slow as hell and it would happen next year,” Sukuna boasted. 

“So y’all bet on me instead of doing your work?” Toji shot a glance at the other man but Sukuna just waved him off. 

“Oh come on. Your eyes grow huge around her and you follow her around like a goddamn puppy. Not that it’s a bad thing, but any idiot could tell that you were gonna marry her.”

Toji shook his head. “It hasn’t happened yet. She hasn’t said yes.”

“There’s no way she wouldn’t say yes. She’s just as in love as you are. And I better be your best man.” 

The same sentiments were shared by others in the group. Nanami wanted to be the one to help Toji with his suit and the others, and had a few bridal boutiques in mind for you. Gojo wanted to help choose the venue. Suguru and Choso gladly volunteered to help with any and all other wedding details. Nobody seemed surprised when Toji said that he had plans on making you his wife. In fact, in most cases, they were telling him to hurry up. They have already accepted you and the kids love you just as much. You are family in their eyes. 

So why couldn’t Toji just pop the question? Well he thought that maybe it was because he didn’t have any of your folks to ask. Toji figures that it was customary, even though he usually doesn’t give a shit about tradition. Even then, it was like the universe gave him a big flashing sign to get on with it because the third time he visited Ezra on his own he woke up and gave his blessing. It couldn’t have been more obvious. 

So Toji sits and waits. And waits, and waits, and waits as you reunite with your brother and play with Megumi until he falls asleep in a heap on the couch. He gathers Megumi up, the little kid flailing around like noodles in his arms while he takes him to bed. You try to take Megumi yourself but Toji tells you not to worry about it, instead telling you to get your shoes and jacket ready when he comes back. You give him a surprised look but agree, and on your behind you Ezra gives Toji an enthusiastic thumbs up. 

When Toji places Megumi in bed he feels an arm tugging him back before he leaves.

“Have you asked her yet?” The boy is hardly awake. His eyes aren’t open yet his eyebrows are scrunched together. Toji sighs and rubs his face down. 

“I’m working on it.”

“Stop being a scaredy-cat.“

“That’s real easy for you to say, kid,” Toji chuckles. 

“She likes you. A lot. And I like her too.” 

“I know.” 

“…I accidentally called her mom and she smiled,” Megumi confesses. “A few days ago. I think she liked it.” 

“You want her to be your mom?” Of course Megumi sees you like his mom. You’ve been there for him since you came into their lives, and you fret over Megumi even when he’s not around. Caring for Megumi came to you easily, from helping him with homework to packing his lunch, or taking him with you when you had errands to do. That tender love also extends to Yuji and Nobara, who flourish under your care. Everyone did. 

“Yeah. I think she'd be a pretty cool mom to have.”

Toji ruffles Megumi's hair. His son gave him the confidence boost that he needs. “Tonight. I’m doing it tonight. Wish me luck?”

“She’s gonna say yes either way. Good luck,” he mumbles, the sleep pulling him back under. Toji leans down to kiss the top of his head and walks back to the living room where you were waiting for him. 

“Ezra, do you think you can watch Megumi for a little while? I still have a present to give her,” Toji asks Ezra and he nods vigorously.

“Go ahead. I’ll be fine here.”

“Really? Are you sure?” You ask. You are all bundled up with the same scarf and gloves Toji gifted you on your birthday all those months ago and fixing the laces on your boots.

“I’ll be fine. I’m sure you’ll be back soon,” Ezra grins. 

“Okay. Thanks,” you say, grabbing Toji's outstretched hand and walking back outside. You had no idea what your gift could be, or why it had to be outside. You hadn’t even noticed that you technically weren’t given a gift by him yet merely for the fact that you felt like you have been given so many by everyone else. Spending this holiday with so many people is a million times better than last year. Ezra wasn’t in a coma yet, but he wasn’t around either. He had his own busy life on the other side of the world and coming back home after your parents’ untimely death was too much to bear. You didn’t blame him, but you couldn’t deny the fact that it was very lonely. Now you had a belly filled with a loving meal, belting out to Christmas carols with the radio while Toji drove you to wherever he was driving, even getting him to sing along with you. 

You notice that the road he took is the same road that your bakery stays. You haven’t been there the whole week, one part because it’s Christmas, other parts because Toji asked you to take the entire week off. Usually you only did three, Christmas Eve, Christmas, and the day right after, but he wanted more time with you and you couldn’t say no. Not when he was looking up at you from laying on your chest and his eyebrows tilted up like he was pouting. You were sure that your customers would understand. 

“Watch your step,” Toji says, holding open your door and taking your hand again. He did take you to the bakery, and it only added to your confusion. He ushers you inside to get out of the freezing cold before you could say anything and you stand in the dark of one of your favorite places in the world, second to only wherever Toji was. 

When Toji turns on the light it becomes apparent why he brought you to your store. The place was completely renovated to the layout of your dreams. You always complained how tight the space felt despite having the space to be better, it’s just that you didn’t have the money to fix it. You look back at Toji who nods at you to keep exploring. 

It wasn’t the type of modernization that sucks the life out of the space it’s in with a grey and white color palette. Your store still has character, accents of red and black dancing on the walls and tiles on the floor, now wavy counters, a deep walnut with their rough edges smoothed out but still bumpy to the touch, giving it a unique texture. The two tables you had in the front near the windows were the same. You didn’t notice when you first walked in but even the wording on the windows had changed. It matched the curled logo you have printed out on your boxes finally on the windows. 

You turn to Toji with tears in your eyes and your hands over your mouth. Emotions swirl in your chest. You didn’t know if you wanted to jump into his arms or break down crying. 

“Wh-when did you… how did you—“

“You’ve talked about all the changes you wanted to make since I met you. All I had to do was listen,” he says, gently holding your shoulder to pull you closer. 

“This is insane, Toji. I mean it was only a week.”

“We’re lucky that Christmas lands on a Saturday this year,” he shrugs. You look up at him in awe and let out a breathy laugh. 

“I still can’t believe it.” 

“You wanted this, right? There’s still some things they said need to be cleaned up but it’s safe for you to be here. Do you want to change anything?”

“No! No, this is perfect. I mean, I can’t believe that you did all this for me. I was fully expecting to hold out for a couple more years to save up or try to find a new store. This is… Thank you, Toji.”

You stand on your tiptoes to place a soft kiss on his lips. His eyes flutter close and his arm tightens around your body. You pull away and his eyes are still closed, his lashes fan over his cheeks and you hold his face in your hands. “I love you. This is the best Christmas I have ever had. Not just because of the bakery but because I have you and Megumi and everybody else to share it with.” Tears prick your eyes again and Toji finally opens his eyes again. 

“Can I make it better?” He asks in a low voice, cautiously. A bewildered expression sweeps over your face. How could he possibly top a renovated shop? You give a slow nod since he looks nervous and he kisses the round of your nose, laces his fingers in your hand, then kisses the pads of your fingertips. You giggle in response, still unsure on what “better” could be until he puts his other hand in his pocket and slips out a golden ring. Your eyes bounce back and forth from the ring to Toji’s face, blood rushing in your ears and your heart pounding. 

“I would do anything for you,” he starts, holding the ring up between the both of you. “I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that.” 

You begin to cry. It was long overdue. You’ve  been holding your tears back since you walked in but they could no longer be kept at bay. Toji gathers a heavy drop on your lash line and cups your face. “You don’t have to prove anything,” you choke out. “I want you with me. Forever.”

“Forever?” He smiles. You nod vigorously, whispering yes a thousand times over, and he slips the ring on your finger. The blood red jewel glistens in the new bright lights and more sobs escape your mouth. You smash your lips on his again, throwing yourself on his body and he welcomed it. He grins into your kiss and returns your enthusiasm, lifting you off of the floor as you get lost in each other’s affection. 

“I’ve been wanting to marry you for a while now,” Toji says when he finally puts you back on the ground. Your head spins with giddiness. He kisses you again, and again, and one more time for good luck only for you to drag him back down to deepen it. 

“I would’ve said yes,” you laugh. “Definitely would’ve said yes.”

“Megumi was right,” Toji shakes his head. 

“I can’t believe we’re going to get married. I’m going to be your wife !” You squeal and shake your hand in the air.

Toji couldn’t believe there was ever a doubt in his mind that you would say no. You have always been open and honest with him, and accepted him and everything that he was. It was hard to believe that you came to love him and Megumi as easily as you did. There were only a few vibrant moments before he met you, and there is a clear difference in his time line where you existed versus when you didn’t. He wanted to hold onto that vibrance, that warmth that you brought with you everywhere you went and never let go. He kissed you again, slowly and deep, relishing the feeling of your lips, your body touching his and then rested his forehead on yours. 

“I love you.”

“I’m going to cry again.” 

“My little crybaby.”

“Is my husband making fun of me?” You gasp dramatically, but your arms wrap around the back of his neck and you giggle into his neck. 

“Your husband still has to finish the tour. The kitchen is updated too. No more dented ovens.” 

You grasp Toji’s hand with your newly decorated hand into the back of the bakery laughing. 

Chapters: I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI.

[fullsunstrawberry]

[PREVIEW‼️]

synopsis: being friends with Intak is awesome and often you get invited to hang out during practice. However, the guys have noticed Jongseob's close relationship with you. His behavior around you seems different, but the catch is you only like older guys… 

genre: friends to lovers, angst, fluff ending

warnings: swearing, third person when reader isn't there (preview ends in angst)

word count: TBA (preview is 2k)

release date: April 5

taglist open!

"Intak, are you still inviting your friend to practice?" Theo asked as the group entered the practice room.

"As long as Keeho is still fine with it!"

All eyes turned toward Keeho, awaiting his response.

"Quit staring! Of course she can come..." He dismissed their gazes with a wave. "But only if you all work hard, no slacking off," Keeho glanced at Soul, prompting a laugh and a shrug from him.

"I've already got the choreography down!" Soul defended.

"I've already texted her. She's on her way with food!" Intak cheered.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The group eagerly got started, trying to get everything down before y/n arrives. Already knowing some of the members would get distracted. 

Intak’s phone buzzed with a message, and he quickly checked it. “She’s here!” He announced, rushing to the door to greet her. 

With a warm smile, you entered the practice room, carrying bags of takeout. The delicious smell filled the air, making everyone’s stomachs growl. Keeho couldn’t help but smirk knowing he was right, everyone was gonna be distracted. 

Before everyone sat down to eat, you made sure to give everyone a small hug as a greeting. 

Jongseob quickly fixed his hair in the mirror before walking over to you with smile on his face. 

“You brought food again, y/n? You’re a lifesaver!” Jongseob exclaimed, his eyes shining with appreciation.

You chuckled at his enthusiasm and started unpacking the bags. You started to handed out the food, making sure everyone had their favorite dishes before settling down yourself. 

Before you could even choose where to sit, Jongseob already patted the spot next to him.

You settled down next to Jongseob, smiling at him before opening your own takeout. 

“You need to try this, It’s so good!” Jongseob held up his chopsticks to your face. Without a second thought you opened your mouth and let him feed you. 

“Holy shit, that’s amazing! Next time I need to get some”

“Here have some of mine,” Jongseob took his takeout out box and shoved some of his food onto yours. 

In protest you try to move your plate away but stopped because you didn’t want to spill anything, “You’re the one who needs to eat, You’re a growing boy!” You laughed, teasing him with a giggle.

Jongseob rolled his eyes, reaching for another piece of food to offer you. "You paid for it," he said with a grin. You both continued to share food, laughing and chatting animatedly with each other. The rest of the group watched in amusement, some exchanging knowing glances with each other. 

You stood up and excused yourself, wanting something from the vending machine. 

Jongseob also stood up and called out he was going too. 

Once you two were out of the practice room, everyone looked around silently. Until Theo broke it, “So does he like her or something?”

Keeho chuckled and shook his head, "Oh, definitely. Have you seen the way he looks at her? It's written all over his face."

Jiung leaned back in his chair, a small smile playing on his lips. "It's about time he made a move. They're perfect for each other."

Soul nodded in agreement, "I've never seen Jongseob act this way around anyone before. It's pretty obvious he likes her."

Keeho nudged intak, getting him to look up from his phone, “What about her, you think she likes him?” 

Intak looked a little stunned, “Y/N and Jongseob?” He questioned “No, y/n’s not into younger guys” 

Everyone groaned, “HEY! I’m just being honest, she probably sees him as a younger brother…” Intak defended himself.

The group continued their conversation, each member sharing their thoughts on Jongseob and your relationship. Despite Intak's insistence that you only saw Jongseob as a younger brother, Keeho couldn't help but notice the way you always laughed at his jokes, how your eyes sparkled when you talked to him. It was obvious to him that there was something more between you two.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and you and Jongseob reentered the room, laughing about something only the two of you knew. The group quickly composed themselves, trying to act nonchalant. You resumed your seat next to Jongseob, who was still grinning from whatever joke he had shared with you.

As you settled back in, Jongseob leaned in slightly, his voice low as he spoke only to you. "Hey, y/n, do you maybe want to hang out after practice? Just the two of us?" He glanced nervously at the rest of the group, who were now doing a terrible job of pretending not to eavesdrop.

“Sure, there’s this new night cafe I want to check out.” You smiled already pulling up your phone to check the time they close. “I’ll pay, my treat!” You grinned, delusional about the fact he wants this hangout to be different.

“No, I’m gonna pay this time” Jongseob shook his head.

“It’s no big deal, i’m paying!” You argued. 

Jongseob chuckled, a fond look in his eyes as he gazed at you. He reached over and gently took your hand, causing a hush to fall over the room as the group watched in anticipation. "Y/n, let me treat you this time," he insisted with a soft smile. You hesitated for a moment before finally nodding, a warm feeling spreading through your chest at his gesture. The rest of the group exchanged excited glances, knowing that this hangout might just be the push their friend needed to take your relationship to the next level.

“Okay, that’s enough! Time to get back to practice.” Keeho shouted, trying to get everyone’s attention and causing Jongseob to jump slightly at the voice of another person. 

You laugh and went to sit in the corner of the room, where you normally sat to watch everyone dance. You locked eyes with Jongseob’s, through the mirror, and he gave you a smile smile before focusing on what Keeho was saying. 

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

“Okay, take a little break. No longer than 5 minutes!” Keeho yelled, his voice already sounding tired. 

You looked up from your phone and noticed Intak making his way towards you. 

You smiled up at him as he started to sit down. “Am I in trouble? You don’t look so happy…”

Intak sighed, “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something.” Intak hesitated for a moment, trying to find the right words. "It's about Jongseob," he finally blurted out.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What about him?" you asked, your heart rate picking up a notch.

Intak cleared his throat, looking somewhat uncomfortable. "I know you see him as a younger brother, but I've noticed something... between you two. And I think he might have feelings for you." He paused, gauging your reaction.

You felt a rush of emotions flood through you - surprise, uncertainty, and maybe even hope but you wouldn’t admit it. "Jongseob?" you repeated, trying to wrap your head around the idea.

Intak nodded solemnly. "Yeah. And I think you should consider how you feel about him too."

Before you could respond, the rest of the group began filtering back into the room, laughter and chatter filling your ears but all you could hear was a ringing.

Before you could even think you stood up and gathered your things. “Um, sorry guys but I need to go home…I’m really tired!” 

As you gathered your things in a rush, the group exchanged puzzled looks, sensing the sudden shift in the atmosphere. Intak watched you with a mix of concern and guilt, wondering if he had overstepped by bringing up Jongseob's feelings. Just as you were about to leave, Jongseob caught up to you at the door, his expression a mix of confusion and worry.

"Y/N, is everything alright?" Jongseob asked softly, placing a hand on your arm to stop you from leaving.

You turned to face him, trying to act calm despite the whirlwind of emotions inside you. "Yeah, I'm just really exhausted. I think I need to rest for a bit."

Jongseob studied your face intensely, as if searching for any hint of what was truly going on in your mind. "Do you want me to walk you home?" he offered hesitantly not knowing what was wrong.

A small part of you wanted to accept his offer but you shook your head no and mustered a small smile. "It's okay, Jongseob. I'll be fine. Thank you, though," you replied softly, avoiding his gaze.

Jongseob's expression fell slightly at your refusal, but he nodded understandingly. "Alright, just take care of yourself, y/n. And remember, if you ever need anything, I'm here for you," he said sincerely.

You gave him a grateful look before slipping out the door, the cool night air hitting your face as you made your way home. Thoughts of Jongseob and Intak's words swirled in your mind, leaving you feeling more conflicted than ever.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Back at in the practice room, everyone turned towards Intak. 

“What just happened?” Jiung muttered shocked.

Intak cleared his throat, his expression a mix of guilt and concern. "I think I might have upset her," he admitted slowly, his eyes darting between the group members. But not having the curage to look at Jongseob.

“What did you say?” Jongseob’s voice was serious, never daring to use such harsh tone of voice when speaking to someone older. But he didnt care right now, not when it came to you.

Intak hesitated, feeling the weight of Jongseob's gaze on him. "I... I just mentioned that I noticed something between her and you. That maybe you have feelings for her," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jongseob's eyes widened in shock, his mind racing with a mixture of emotions. He turned to look at Keeho, who gave him an encouraging nod. Taking a deep breath, Jongseob finally spoke up, his voice trembling slightly. 

"I-I do have feelings for her. I just never knew how to tell her," he admitted, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

The group fell silent, processing this new revelation. Jiung was the first to break the silence, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go after her!" he urged Jongseob, nudging him playfully.

But instead of encouraging him, he felt defeated. 

“I’m guessing by her reaction it wasnt mutual…” 

Keeho placed a reassuring hand on Jongseob's shoulder, offering him a supportive smile. 

"You never know until you try, Jongseob. Maybe she just needs some time to process everything. Don't give up just yet."

Jongseob shook his head in disagrement, “No, I should have known she wouldnt feel the same way.” 

Feeling dejected, Jongseob sank down onto one of the practice room's chairs, his shoulders slumping in defeat. His mind was a whirlwind of regret and self-blame, wishing he had never let his feelings for you surface. The rest of the group exchanged concerned glances, unsure of what to do or say to lift their friend's spirits. Jiung cleared his throat, breaking the heavy silence that hung in the air.

 "You can't give up so easily, Jongseob. Sometimes things are more complicated than they seem," he offered softly, trying to offer some comfort. But Jongseob merely shook his head, his expression resigned.

 "I've already caused enough trouble. I don't want to make things even more awkward between us," he mumbled, avoiding everyone's gaze.

A few moments of silence pasted before Jongseob spoke again, “Can you guys just forget about it and leave me alone.” He huffed out putting his headphones on to escape the awkward atmosphere. 

As Jongseob disappeared into his own world with his music, the rest of the group exchanged worried glances, unsure of how to proceed. Keeho let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair in frustration. 

"This is a mess," he muttered under his breath, feeling the weight of the tension in the room. Jiung leaned back against the mirrored wall, crossing his arms thoughtfully.

 "Maybe we should give them some space," he suggested, eyeing the door through which you had left earlier. Intak nodded in agreement, his expression still clouded with guilt over potentially causing this rift among friends.

 "I'll talk to her later and try to clear things up," he promised, determination flickering in his eyes. With a shared understanding, the group dispersed quietly, each lost in their own thoughts and concerns for their friends. Outside in the cool night air, you walked slowly along the dimly lit streets, your mind a whirlwind of emotions and questions.

“Do you like jongseob…?”

general taglist: @haechansbbg @chenlesfeetpic @wonootnoot 

piwon taglist: @manooffline @youresolivlie @curiousgworge @ezlynkisses @barbiekh86t @lakoya @jihnyah @beomsl @fishsquishh (click here to be added)

[conchoronzon]

Grounded in My Guts

Here's a preview of my story wherein a father comes home to find his house trashed by his son and his frat friends... so he decides they need some punishment

~~~

I look up at my son. He still kneels with my legs on his shoulders. “Have you learned your lesson?”

“You ate all my friends,” he says.

“They’re grounded.” I grab my cock with my free hand and wave it. “How about this? Suck him out, and we’ll pretend this never happened.”

It was meant to be a tease, but Riley pushes my legs off him. He scoots forward on his knees. Hot breath rushes over my dick. He looks up at me. Our eyes catch when his tongue swirls over the tip of my cock. Fuck. His mouth is soft. His eyes close as he gets more and more of me inside him. His tongue works over my shaft. Whimpers spill out of him. His fingers rest on my sack.

I should’ve ate his friends the moment I moved him into his dorm freshman year. If I gulped up his roommate, he’d have been where he belongs long ago: addicted to dad’s dick.

My free hand lands on top of his sandy hair. Spit leaks out in a heavy flow when I force him down. He chokes and struggles. Gags move through his chest and press against my cock. He doesn’t puke. He doesn’t pass out. When his face is nice and purple, I let go. Riley launches up as I laugh at him. Spit spills heavy off his chin. “Good boy,” I say.

Without a word, my boy swallows my cock again.

“You love my dick, don’t you?” I say. “How many wet dreams have you had about the dick that made you?”

Riley doesn’t say anything because my cock is in his mouth. I choke him on my dick again. With each buck of my hips, the college students in my ass and the one in the base of my cock all squirm about. The ones in my stomach are swimming and churning. It doesn’t take long for my balls to clench. I hold my boy down, deepthroat, as cum squirts and pushes his friend out of my dick.

When Riley pulls off, snot covered, cum leaking from his mouth, tears spilling out of his eyes, his cheeks are all puffed out. He turns over to spit.

“Swallow,” I command.

He turns back to me, wild eyed. He didn’t need to speak to throw out all of his pleads and fears. If he swallowed, he’d be eating his friend.

I grin. “That’s exactly the point.” I sit up and press the Minimizer to his forehead. “Or you can be punished in my guts, too. I’d bet you’d look real funny reforming in the toilet. My shit head son turned into my shitty little boy. And you’ll live to tell the tale. To get teased. Knowing any time you annoy me, I’ll turn you right back into shit. So. Swallow.”

He does. The heavy lump travels down his throat. Without prompting, he opens his mouth with an “Ah!” There are still strings of semen between his jaws, but there’s no trace of any shrunken man.

“Good boy,” I say.

~~~

The full story, with all its vorish moments of young men getting shrunk and added to an annoyed dad's stomach, ass, and cock can be found here:

If you want to read it now, it's included in:

[shiut]

Waiting For Yuma Chapter 1 : Preview

Some english translation for the Rain Code novel, Waiting for Yuma. This is how many pages are provided in the trial reader preview, but it's still rather long, so I've put most of it under the cut.

I've also put it into an online document if you want to click here instead.

Chapter 01

The Silence of the Dolls

Morning arrives early for the trainee detective.

However, though belonging to the 【World Detective Organization】, he/she has not yet completed the training course. A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. A piece of paper will never reach the moon unless it is folded forty-two times. There is much work to be done in order to become a 【Master Detective】.

Working hard to develop and refine special abilities. Acquiring basic detective skills. Sharpening a keen eye for detail. Not only that, but there are many other challenges to worry about too. I suppose you could say that the days have been filled with more hardship than joy. However, you can't call yourself a 【Master Detective】 if you can't overcome all of that. It might be a different story for people who have exceptional supernatural abilities. However, for those who don't, they must continue to keep improving in order to reach the stars.

For one such trainee, Yuka Kisaragi, this day ought to be a momentous milestone. Her efforts were recognized, and so she was allowed to accompany a real 【Master Detective】 to the crime scene. As soon as Yuka heard this, she hugged and danced with everyone she saw, which almost got her reported in the process. That’s to say, she was putting out more energy than usual for such an important day.

Or at least it should be...... no, could that be why?

Let's go over that one more time. 

Morning arrives early for a trainee detective.

That should be the case, but Yuka was in fact remarkably late.

***

"Why, why, why, why, why!?"

Yuka asked herself repeatedly as she roared down the street. Under the clear blue sky, she trampled across the well-maintained cobblestone pavement. Though, she didn't have to bother questioning herself when she already knew the cause of the problem a while ago. 

First of all, the toast was burnt. 

Secondly, the hair iron went missing.

Third, she forgot to cut the tag off her new coat that was bought for today.

That sums up why she was late today.

It was entirely a bed of her own making. But still, Yuka thought, there must be a reason for all this bad luck. It could be the alignment of the stars, or like the flow of fate, or something.

Could it be the influence of the 【Master Detective】 that I'm about to meet? 

It may be due to something like sound waves or telepathy caused by the person in question. Though, I'd rather those predictions to not be true. Yuka kept running, hoping at the very least that a kind person would be waiting for her. 

Then when she rounded a sharp corner —— she burst into a stylish cafe that had a strikingly chic dark-toned exterior wall. The interior was also uniformly monochrome, with bright light streaming through the large glass windows. The clientele had a somewhat intellectual and relaxed atmosphere. Yuka immediately felt nervous. She looked around as she listened to the classical music that was playing. The meeting place was at the far end of the window. Right, she repeatedly mouthed these words to herself while she walked over... she was suddenly rendered speechless.

Therein, was a beautiful person.

A hard leather sofa, and white painted wooden table. 

There sat a person dressed in gray. The way in which they tipped their coffee was picturesque. Their pale hair and glasses suited their sagacious profile and air of intelligence. 

While admiring the sight, Yuka had to wonder. There's an ambiguity to the person before her. Their gender is indiscernible. No matter how you look at it, it's impossible to tell if it's a he or she. They could pass as a beautiful man, or even as a ruggedly dignified woman perhaps. Yuka stared intently in order to ascertain the truth the best she could.

"......Three million"

"Eh-?"

What did they say? Yuka let out a dumb sound as she thought. Caught off-guard, she simply blinked. The beautiful person took another sip of coffee before her.

Gracefully setting down the cup, the other person continued.

"It's one hundred thousand per minute. My time is not cheap...... More importantly, you wasted precious time before the investigation as a 【trainee detective】, of course you're prepared to pay that much, right?"

Smoothly —— he, no, maybe she —— the 【Master Detective】 spoke. 

Confused, Yuka twisted her head like an owl. However, after a few seconds, she realized that what this 【Master Detective】 was referring to were 'late fees'. Yuka choked with a hissing noise. How ruthless. Is this person a demon? That's what her immediate thought was.

Flustered, Yuka tried to explain herself. He/she opened their mouth to interrupt.

"I'll have you know, burnt toast, a misplaced hair iron, and a coat tag are no excuse for being late."

"Huh-? How did you know?"

"Bread crumbs"

They pointed to Yuka's chest. If you look —— peeking out from a crimson coat ——was a cream-colored sweater dotted in black specks. Pointing at it, the 【Master Detective】 continued.

"It's a notably charred color. Also, although some of your hair is disheveled, only the ends are straightened out. A sign of a frantically used hair iron. Did you simply not spend enough time on it? No, it looks like you intended to use it properly, but were forced to use it in such an errant way. You could naturally assume that it's a result of stubbornly searching for the hair iron that consumed most of your time. Also, there are threads sticking out unnaturally from the collar of your coat. This could be the trace of a tag that was yanked out in a hurry. That's all."

He/she lifted their cup with a clink. And with that, they swallowed the pitch black liquid. The coolness of their profile showed no signs of even the faintest hint of bitterness.

Once again, Yuka looked down at herself. She was wearing a crimson coat that was bought specially for today, and paired with it was a cream sweater with a rounded collar plus a black skirt. On her feet, she wore leather shoes. Her shoulder-length amacha sweet tea colored hair was partially frizzy, though she still managed to take care of the ends.

And then there were the bread crumbs that were left sticking to her.

Yuka was taken aback by all the things they had pointed out.

But soon after, her face lit up.

As an aspiring detective, she's yearned for this kind of precise deduction skill.

"Tha-..... That's amazing! Just as expected of a 【Master Detective】!"

"Praising people so carelessly will result in brain rot."

"Ough-"

"Something like this is not even the ability of a 【Master Detective】. These are the most basic fundamentals that even an amateur should be able to do...... right from the start. To my knowledge, it's not standard for a detective to bring along bread crumbs to a crime scene now is it?"

"I-, I'm sorry."

Yuka patted off her sweater, and the black food particles were brushed from her cream-colored top. She moved her leather shoes to sweep the fallen crumbs to the edge of the wall.

She once again turned her attention to the person in front of her. They were still so young, but they certainly seem like a 【Master Detective】. Even though he/she says that even an amateur can do it, his/her observational skill is beyond that of an ordinary person.

Yuka was so excited. She bowed her head in greeting.

"Once again nice to meet you, I'm Yuka Kisaragi."

"Halara Nightmare"

Yuka acknowledged the name with a nod.

I was given very minimal information about the 【Master Detective】  I'd been scheduled to accompany today. The 'Jeweler Campanella Murder Case' that took place the other day at the only public casino in the area —— the genius who led to its solution was Halara. He/she was one of the shining stars in the sky. They're a detective for Yuka to look up to. 

Yuka stared at Halara with admiration. Without a response, Halara got up from their seat. Then, in one fluid motion, they handed a slip to Yuka who accepted it without a thought. 

Yuka’s head tilted as she found herself caught by a ruthless follow-up.

"Three million, plus the coffee bill. That is your payment."

"Huh-?"

"It'd be in your best interest to pay up before you forget."

"Wait, what, weren't you kidding before?"

"Does talking about a debt with someone you've just met sound like a joke according to your trite standards? That's quite nonsensical."

"Sure it's a strange joke to make but... even so, eh-?"

"Rest assured that you won't be charged any interest. Just make sure you've set up a payment plan."

Halara walked off, leaving a confused Yuka in their wake. Their back held a beautiful and dignified posture. However, it seemed like they had no intention of looking back. With the check in hand, Yuka felt her head spinning.

"Eh-...... Ehh-"

One thing is for certain.

Yuka has been haunted by bad luck ever since this morning.

But the worst part of all was, without a doubt, the presence of this detective.

As her head sank in disappointment, Yuka couldn't help but think.

Halara Nightmare must be some sort of demon.

***

"W-, Well then, let's change the mood shall we!"

"............"

"Halara-san please say something too!"

"Anything in particular?"

"...... I can't even think of anything I had in mind."

At any rate, the two arrived at the manor where the scene of the crime took place.

Diverting her attention from the debt of three million, Yuka looked up at the old-fashioned building.

The walls were constructed with dull red clay brick tiles and lines formed with white granite. Placed atop that was a massive black roof. The exterior was reminiscent of an antique dollhouse. Additionally, the property was encompassed by a magnificent rose garden. The vibrant dew-covered petals almost looked artificial. Everything was so breathtakingly beautiful that it looked like something straight out of a vintage masterpiece. 

Yuka couldn't help but let out a sigh of awe.

"How atmospheric~. Ah-, hey, please don't leave me behind!"

Halara had begun to walk off while I was immersed in the building's peculiar and chilling atmosphere.

Yuka rushed to follow behind their slender back. It was as if they were swimming in a sea of roses as they made their way along the path.

Eventually, the two arrived in front of an arched doorway.

Waiting there was a gentleman dressed in a brand-name suit. His eyes were amber. His hair black. His physique appeared portly. Twisting his magnificent mustache, he raised his booming voice.

"Hey there, Halara-san! I haven't seen you since the 'Jeweler Campanella Murder Case'! I'm glad you could make it! It was worth the trouble of going through the Unified Government to make a request with the 【World Detective Organization】!"

"...... As I suspected, this was no mere coincidence, but rather a request on your behalf, wasn't it?"

"Eh-, do you know each other!? And what's more...... through the Unified Government no less...... Could it be that he's that big of a deal?"

"Hahaha, oh, you could say the Unified Government tends to be a bit involved when it comes to matters of international trade. I can't get into any details, as much as I'd love to talk about it.  Anyways, when it comes to securing the food supply in this district it is I, Richard Thomson, who's your go-to guy! Also, what's there to hide between Halara-san and me? We've solved a case together after all!"

"H-...... He's a real talker."

Suddenly, Richard moved in closer. Feeling pushed by the pressure of his prattling words and moundish belly, Yuka took a step back. Meanwhile, Halara narrowed their eyes in displeasure. 

Gracefully, he/she crossed their arms. Letting out a small breath, Halara continued.

"If you'd mind refraining from distorting the facts. We did not solve it together. The case had indeed been solved....... however, it was all by my ability alone of course."

"Eh-, if that's the case, then what about Richard-san?"

"He was merely the first person to discover the incident. Rather than finding a solution, he challenged my theory based on his own faulty recollection, and thanks to this I had to explain  【Postcognition】 at the request of the police."

"【Postcognition】?"

Yuka found herself tilting her head. She was unfamiliar with the term.

In order to prevent further questions for the time being, Halara spoke up.

"It's my ability as a 【Master Detective】 ..... we'll be needing it for this crime scene as well. I'll discuss it later. So then...... since you're aware of these abilities, you should already understand right?"

"Yes, of course! I am fully knowledgeable about all of it! Just as expected of me. All pro~per preparations have been made accordingly, of course!"

Richard puffed out his chest. From a pocket on the inside of his coat, he pulled out a photograph and presented it to Halara. Yuka took a peek at the picture from behind him/her.

Similar to a portrait, the upper half of a lady was shown. She was a slender and petite woman. However, she had a firm and straight posture, staring at the camera with a steely gaze—— Strangely, her eyes seemed somewhat out of focus—— Her hair was tied up in a golden bun, and her eyes were a deep blue. She was beautiful, yet had a somehow frighteningly icy air about her. It was a perilous sheet of ice over a deep lake that could crack at any moment.

Nervously, Yuka asked.

"...... Is this?"

"The victim in this case. It's my wife. She was quite a cold woman. To be honest, our whole relationship was cold, but I never expected something like this. Whether I'm sad or not, I'm still not sure. I'll worry about that a bit later. Incidentally, I had a business meeting that day, so I have a flawless alibi, ahem. If you ask me, my wife would complain to the chef about the taste of the soup. It seems pretty suspicious to me, so I hope you'll be able to help me out here."

"H- he really is a chatty guy."

Yet again, Richard moved forward. Yuka slowly backed away. Halara took a long thorough look at the picture that they had received before returning it. Nodding, Richard opened the door.

"Here, go right on ahead. We'll go over the details on the way to the crime scene. Why, I couldn't even tell you how glad I am that you came, Halara-san. Ever since the 'Jeweler Campanella Murder Case' I just haven't been able to contain myself from telling my family all about your story, Halara-san. Hahaha. Ah-, as for a full-scale police investigation, I have all the power and resources needed to keep them out of it, so feel free to......"

"Eh-, why would you want to hold back the police?" Yuka voiced her surprise.

Rumor has it—— now was it Kanata Ward, or Kanaya Ward—— that some places have been under lockdown and the police haven't exactly been operating properly. However, places such as that are the exception. The legal organization should be operating in proper accordance here. But even so, is there any sense to purposefully suppressing them? In response to Yuka's question, Richard softly curved the flesh bordering his mouth. 

He spoke while displaying a clownish grin.

"Because, having a 【Master Detective】 solve it would be more fun, wouldn't it?"

There was a childishness in his eyes, 

and a warped sense of delight began to surface.

***

"...... Is that guy alright?"

It seemed that Richard had the intention of sticking around the crime scene. However, it appeared that there was a problem with his cargo ship, so he left while grumbling something about just getting started. 'Please don't solve the case until I return' he added, but I'm not really concerned about something like that. 

After making sure that he had gone down to the first floor, Yuka then went to inquire Halara.

Located on the second floor —— in front of his wife's bedroom, he/she answered with indifference.

"Probably not. However, as long as 【Master Detectives】 exist, so too will there be people who hold an excessive admiration for them, or even an addiction...... There’s no telling what type of bad precedent it could set if it were a person in power."

Yuka reflexively shifted her gaze downwards.

That admiration of 【Master Detectives】 is something she could understand. To some people, those who possess supernatural abilities and eliminate unsolved mysteries are like that of stars shining in the sky. There are some who may wish to bask in the radiance of that light up close. However, despite the murder of a family member, it was nothing short of abnormal to request a 【Master Detective】 while shutting down the possibility of a quick solution.

Yuka's skin crawled with disgust as she asked.

"Are you going to accept this request?"

"Five million."

"Eh?"

"It was mentioned to me a short while ago. This is the amount he said he had set as a reward for my success...... I have no obligation to help others, but I work sincerely according to the payment I receive...... That is my pride as a detective."

"So that’s the only reason."

"It's reason enough, among other things."

Yuka almost raised her voice. However, in response to this Halara spoke calmly. 

He/she emotionlessly included more reasons.

"The police have had no involvement in this case. Hence, the situation where the more time passes, the more evidence is lost...... Given the circumstances, there is no detective better suited for this case than me. Still, even if I decline this request, he would probably just vet another ��Master Detective】 to appoint anyway. It's a waste of time."

"Surely......"

"The quickest and most rational decision would be for me to continue with the investigation."

Yuka gave a deep nod. To reject a request based on emotion would also be an unethical decision. Once she came to an understanding, Halara then placed their hand on the door. 

Nevertheless, without pressing the matter further, she continued to ask questions.

"Then let's move on with the investigation. It'd be foolish for a 【Master Detective】 and trainee to continue to stand around talking to each other...... Before going any further, I'm sure you've already been properly briefed with a sufficient overview regarding the case thus far before arriving here, right? Mister Richard did speak rather quickly."

"If that's the case then please leave it to me! Uhh let's see now...."

Yuka twiddled her thumbs around in the air. 

She then began to explain the overview of the murder case as told by Mister Richard.

***

To recap, the story goes like this.

Mister Richard has a family of five—— however, his second born daughter is staying in a dormitory—— Therefore, at the time of the incident, there were seven people in the mansion: him, his wife, his eldest daughter and his eldest son, a cook, a maid, and a gardener.

It was there that Mister Richard's wife, Beatrice Thompson, was murdered. 

No one had seen her after she ate dinner and went to her room at 8 p.m.—— This has so far been confirmed by the initial police report —— The estimated time of death was between 9 and 10 o'clock p.m. The cause of death was stabbing. The murder weapon, a knife, was left lodged in her chest. There were no fingerprints. Also, a water pitcher—— which she loved to use when she went to bed —— was confirmed to have been laced with stolen sleeping pills. 

Because of this, it's been concluded that the crime must have been premeditated by an insider. 

The first to discover the scene were the gardener and the eldest daughter. The gardener would visit the victim every night at 10 o'clock to consult with her about remodeling the garden, and when she did not respond he then approached her eldest daughter —— Afterwards, both parties felt uneasy about there being no response, and so as a result of breaking down the door, the dead body was discovered —— This was at about half past 10 o'clock. Additionally, there were signs of intentional destruction within the room at the time. The eldest daughter then immediately called out to the eldest son, who was in the garden, and asked him to report the incident.

And then there's the key detail.

The room was a locked room.

"The crime scene was a closed room with both the windows and doors locked at the point which it was first discovered when the door was opened. Furthermore, the victim was leaning against the door, and there were no signs of it having been opened directly beforehand."

"Well done. Seems like nothing has been misremembered." Halara gave a brief nod, their pale hair swaying with the motion.

Naturally, Yuka puffed her chest proudly. She had also been honing her memory as a part of her training to become a 【Master Detective】. She also had a bit of a talent for picking up on fast-talkers, which was something she was prepared with at the very least.

Halara stared at the door with the knob still in hand. 

Gazing at the floral reliefs carved across its surface, he/she continued. 

"Wherever there's a locked room, there is an explanation behind it. It's the detective's job to uncover it."

Halara opened the door with a click.

Stepping through and, suddenly, looking to the side —— Yuka took a sharp breath.

***

It looked as though there were many girls standing there. 

Dolls were lined up in front of a mainly yellow floral-patterned wallpaper. 

The smallest one was a baby, while the largest figure looked to be around 10 years old. Everything looked to be things belonging to girls of various sizes. But oddly enough, there was also a strange sense of uniformity. 

Lovely beings clad in a luxurious and solemn aura. Their eyes were made of deep blue glass, and their heads were covered in gold thread. Their shrewd features somehow had an uncanny resemblance to the victim's wife. Moreover, there were other bizarre details as well.

All of their heads had been torn off. Some were set up to be holding dolls, while others were lying on the floor. Many of them were grouped together and placed against the wall.

It was as though the dolls had also been murdered.

"Wh-, what is this--. How disturbing...... So it was the dolls that they were referring to when they said some of the rooms showed signs of intentional destruction. But still, why is it like this?"

"......On the other side of the doll...... there is a fireplace to the right hand side when you enter through the door." 

Halara muttered under their breath as they covered their mouth. He/she stepped forward to approach the mantlepiece of the elegant fireplace. Halara crouched down to peer inside before looking up. 

Yuka followed their lead and crouched down beside them, copying their actions. Before them was a grimy chimney that extended from their field of view. The distant opening was tightly sealed with a fine mesh. She nodded with a hum. 

"It seems unlikely that the killer could have escaped by climbing up here."

"However, it doesn't seem irrelevant."

"Eh?"

"Look here, there are traces of soot on the floor."

Yuka lept back at the mention of it. That was a close one. She almost stepped on a piece of evidence. 

Seeing her panic, Halara adjusted their glasses. 

"I thought you were conscientiously avoiding it...... Seems I overestimated. Are you really so dense as to have not noticed?"

"Th-, that's not it! I noticed! Of course I noticed!" 

Despite her insistence, she of course did not notice. Halara's gaze was truly cold. 

Yuka was quick to redirect it by changing the subject.

"Uhmm, well...... Let's see, the victim was lying in front of the door, and the eldest daughter thought about the possibility that someone could have broken in, so she went to check the window...... but found that it was locked."

"So, she found the eldest son in the garden and called out to him...... I see, it is visible from here perhaps. There don't appear to be any contradictions evident in those facts themselves at the moment."

Halara and Yuka moved over to the window to look out over the garden. 

The rose garden could clearly be seen from the wife's bedroom window. Though it was now daytime, we confirmed that there was a haze from floodlights scattered about for illumination. That meant that the eldest son could have been seen without any problem even at night.

Touching the golden crescent lock, Halara nodded with a hum. 

"The locks on the windows are rather standard...... so I can't say for sure that there's no possibility of tampering. However, there are no scratches. I don't see any evidence of thread or any other such material being used."

Halara turned while muttering to themself. 

Once again, he/she looked over to the door the victim was leaning against.

"...... There isn't much blood. In other words, the criminal did not pull out the knife after dealing the blow."

"That is true, isn't it."

The two discussed their thoughts about the bloodstains on the carpet, though the body has already been removed. The crime scene was not preserved exactly as it was in its original state. The family must've had some sort of hand in it. At this point, there may be some things that an investigation won't be able to uncover.

Yuka spoke up without thinking. 

"Hmm, I guess there's nothing more to see here other than the information that's already been given so far. There's got to be things that we're missing. That's the problem with being a detective who's always asked to do things after the fact. Ahhh, if only we could see the crime scene right at the time of the body's discovery."

"You wish to see it?"

"Eh?"

"Who...... do you think I am?"

"Who?"

"I'm Halara Nightmare."

The phrase rolled off Halara's tongue in the most natural way. Yuka cocked her head. 

Well, I've already gone through introductions. Regardless of if it's impossible to tell whether they’re a man or a woman, there was no doubt that the person standing before me was Halara Nightmare. Isn't that so?

But he/she continued on. 

"The 【Postcognition Detective】, Halara Nightmare."

***

What exactly is this 【Postcognition】.

Halara began to explain.

"My 【Forensic Forte】 is 【Postcognition】 ...... It quite literally is the power to see a snapshot of the past. However, it can only be used at murder scenes. To be precise, it's the ability to see how a crime scene 【appeared at the time it was first discovered】 with one's own eyes. Another way to describe it would be 【crime scene-limited psychometry】, if that's easier to understand."

Yuka couldn't help but gawk in surprise. 

She knew that the 【Master Detectives】 who work in the field had special abilities. Yuka herself had something that could be considered as such. Halara's was outstanding, however.

It's almost too convenient.

As far as a detective's supernatural ability goes, it could be considered among the best.

Halara continued in the wake of Yuka's astonishment.

"My power allows me to see the 【moment the first witness saw the crime scene】. In other words, not the culprit, not the victim, but how it appeared when a third party first entered. The memory or perception of the witness does not affect my 【Postcognition】. What I see is what actually was there. When it comes to my power, the witness is not a camera or a recording device, but rather a trigger...... Perhaps the best way to think of it is like a bookmark stuck between the pages of when the body was found. It's not a power that can be taken advantage of unconditionally, however.”

Perhaps it was something akin to envy and jealousy that swirled in Yuka's eyes like heated candy. Halara continued to explain the activation conditions and limitations of their power.

"First, I must be standing at the crime scene...... this condition is absolutely required. I must also know the victim's name and face. That's why prior research is crucial. Lastly, 【Postcognition】 is only effective in a 10-meter radius around the body. At the moment, I can only see the crime scene and the victim. I can't see any living things that were at the scene.” 

Yuka's eyes flickered with a blink. So even if the culprit was hiding at the crime scene—— it wouldn't be possible to immediately identify them. Her face must've been brimming with the question as to why. Halara promptly gave an answer.

"...... I’m not so good at looking at people."

"B- but still, I think this is a more than capable ability! This is a 【Forensic Forte】!  I'm so envious! I absolutely admire you!"

"Sorry, but I'm tired of hearing compliments."

"Actually, maybe I did go a little too far with the praise......"

"Time is of the essence. Let's take a look for now, shall we?" 

With that said, Halara raised their left hand to cover their left eye. 

That was the moment Yuka put down her favorite crimson bag she'd been carrying on her back—— which could be used in three different ways by adjusting the belt. She undid the metal clasps and opened the leather flap. She pulled out a sketchbook and a box of colored pencils. She readied the black one first. 

Halara gave an expression as if to say 'what is that'. 

Yuka turned to puff out her chest toward him/her.

"Ehehe, if that's what your ability can do, Halara-san, I think I could be of some help to you, even if just a little."

"...... What do you mean?"

"As a matter of fact, my 【Forensic Forte】 is 【Sketching】!"

Halara's eyebrow slightly twitched at such a cheerful declaration. Perhaps that ability would've been self-explanatory enough. Yuka continued regardless for the sake of explanation. 

"Ah, I may be a trainee detective, but I have fully mastered my forte. If I can keep it up like this, I should be on track to receive my detective deed! Heeheehee-...... Well, uh so, with this ability, by just listening to what someone says, I can faithfully depict 【a person's description of a scene】 without error, completely unaffected by the influence of my subjectivity or imagination! Though, there's no way for me to be sure whether or not the 【person's description】 is an 【imaginary scene】 or a 【real scene】......"

"Does that mean that you can be influenced by the imagination of another person?"

"Yes. A lie is a lie and will be recorded exactly as it is. But in your case, Halara-san, if you describe the scene exactly as you see it, I think I'll be able to get a picture perfect replication of what it looks like!" Yuka explained.

Her power was the exceptional ability to discern the vague image within a witness's mind. Even if the image in itself is false, she wouldn't be able to disclose the nature of its authenticity. That's why Yuka was so envious of Halara's ability to remain unaffected by the subjectivity of another person's perspective. Still, her ability to take only a vague testimony from the witness themselves—— including the image of the culprit that they witnessed and the scene at the time of the crime—— and be able to properly materialize it, was very useful. It might also be useful in this circumstance as well.

Halara hummed with a brief nod. 

"I see...... While it may be possible to reproduce an image as seen by an eyewitness that would otherwise be difficult to convey clearly, there is a possibility of being manipulated by a deliberately false testimony, or an ability perhaps."

"Exactly!"

"......It's quite half-baked for a detective."

"Ngh-"

"Honestly it could be quite convenient for this particular instance. It's exhausting to explain things only I can see."

"Really?"

"People do not believe what they cannot see. I have often been called a liar...... It was thanks to this that when I worked with Mister Richard on the 'Jeweler Campanella Murder Case'...... not only did I have to explain my forte, but I also had to go through the arduous task of proving it through drawing an explanation of the circumstances at the time and comparing them with the physical evidence."

Yuka nodded in response to Halara's words. His/her ability is nothing more than a 【vision】 of the past. Perhaps there will always be skeptics and those who continue to insist that it's flawed. As a trainee, she could only imagine the troubles that they deal with. 

But there's no need to worry this time. Yuka spoke with conviction. 

"It'll be alright! Because I believe in Halara-san's 【Postcognition】 and my 【Sketching】 from the bottom of my heart, without a doubt!"

"......Your own 【Sketching】 as well, huh?"

"Ah-, sorry."

"I don't mind. You should have confidence in your 【Forensic Forte】. The most important quality for a detective is the ability to suspect others...... but perhaps I've spoken too much. Let's continue."

With one eye closed, Halara began to concentrate. 

Yuka was momentarily captivated by their serious and beautiful profile. But the instant his/her mouth began to move, she shook her head and picked her colored pencil back up to begin moving it with blinding speed.

A drawing etched into a sketchbook.

Along with Halara's words.

Through combining the two, the findings that were revealed are as follows.

***

The first witness of the scene had broken through the locked door. It was at this time that the victim's body, which had been leaning against the door, appeared to have moved. There were traces of bloody finger marks on the knife and the surrounding area of the clothes on the victim, who had fallen to the side—— though this was confirmed in the initial police investigation, no fingerprints were reported to be found—— and so it was theorized to have been caused not by the culprit, but by the victim. 

In other words, the victim's death was not instant.

Furthermore, traces of water stains were found trailing from the victim's mouth to their throat. 

Also the head of one of the dolls—— which had apparently not fallen off, yet seemed as if it had been placed with the rest of the heads in the real life scene —— was lying in a position where it could easily be seen from the open door.

And the biggest difference of all—— there were no traces of soot in front of the chimney.

After drawing the description above, Yuka put down her colored pencil with a sudden flick. The fresh corpse of the victim was vividly recreated on paper. The sight was brutal, although I hadn't given it much thought at the time my colored pencils were in motion. She closed her eyes to offer a moment of silence. She then asked Halara.

"I understand things for the most part...... but what could be the meaning behind these differences?"

"............"

"Halara-san?"

"I understand, but......if that's the case...... no...... It's far too simple...... namely, "

"Halara-saaan?"

"I've got a hypothesis in mind. All that's left is to substantiate the evidence."

With that said, Halara began walking to leave the room. Yuka hurriedly stowed her sketchbook and colored pencils into her bag. Brown, light orange, red—— disregarding the order that they were placed in—— they were tossed directly into the bottom of the box. She slammed the lid shut and ran after Halara.

"Please wait, Halara-san. Where are you going?"

"An investigation is built upon two fundamental factors. First of all, check the crime scene, next is?"

"Next, is it...... um, perhaps"

"Yes, I'm sure you know what I'm referring to." 

Halara came to a halt in a corridor with beautiful stucco walls. He/she turned to Yuka and, with a quick motion, held up two fingers. He/she curled their fingers from two to one as they gave their answer.

"It's collecting testimony."

***

"You're the detective appointed by the Master, is that right?...... Haa, quite the beautiful person...... Ah-, no, what happened at the time of the Madam's death, was it?"

"To be more precise, it's about the circumstances surrounding the discovery of the body and how you were spending your time that night. I’d appreciate your cooperation."

The gardener narrowed his puffy eyes at Halara's statement. 

He was at a loss for words within the garden that was filled with the suffocating fragrance of roses. 

The gardener was a man in his fifties. He was dressed in a pair of trousers, shirt, and rubber apron suitable for tilling the soil, and the look on his face portrayed a gentle personality. At the same time, it seemed to reveal an innately timid nature. He carefully tucked the pruning shears he was using into his apron pocket. He then anxiously asked Halara.

"Does that mean, as in an alibi? Am I being accused of something?"

"We're going around and asking everyone! Thank you in advance for your cooperation!" 

Perhaps it would be better to keep him calm by speaking to him herself.

Yuka spoke cheerfully so. Halara said nothing. The gardener nodded upon hearing this. He still seemed nervous, but he opened his mouth. 

"Haa...... Well, I don't have anything to hide or be ashamed of, so I'll answer you. Please hurry and clear up any of the Madam's lingering regrets."

"Right! ...... oouugh, I'm moved to tears by those words. I guess your Madam must've surely held a great deal of care and compassion for her employees!"

"No, not at all."

"Eh-"

Yuka froze in her tracks at this.

Isn't the memory of the deceased something that everyone glorifies? Especially if they were killed. However, the gardener's deep wrinkles distorted, like scars chiseled into rock. With a firm voice, he continued.

"The only time the Madam was kind was when she dealt with her youngest daughter, who is now living in a dormitory...... She was strict with everyone else, and our nickname for her was the 'Empress of Ice'...... There was no such thing as kindness."

Halara narrowed their eyes at his words. He/she folded their arms thoughtfully. 

Halara asked with a hardened voice.

"So everyone could have a motive?"

"......Well I never said that. I dread to think who in the house might have stabbed her. Even if I had found her 'murdered'...... Honestly, I didn't think about why."

"...... By the sounds of it, you were the first one to discover the body?"

"Oh, that's right." The gardener nodded simply.

Yuka reflexively held her breath.

This is important information. As you know, Halara's power recreates the crime scene found by the 'first witness'. Not the 'culprit', not the 'victim' —— but that of the 'first witness'.

 In other words, the 'first witness' is excluded as the culprit. 

It's imperative to determine whether or not the vision seen by Halara really belongs to the gardener. But the ability to rule out one person from being a potential culprit altogether is incredibly valuable.

"I see, in that case......" 

Halara tried to ask the question, and Yuka immediately took out her sketchbook. This is where her 【Forte】 comes into play. Halara nodded upon seeing this. 

"That's a good call."

"Halara-san praised my judgment!?"

"So, when you opened the door......"

"Ignored without a beat!?"

"Was the victim leaning against it?"

"Yes...... I had a bad feeling, so the young lady and I kicked down the upstairs door...... I thought it was strangely heavy, but soon after I was shocked when I caught a glimpse of the corpse."

According to the gardener's report—— the moment he opened the door, the impact had apparently caused the Madam's corpse to fall over. Since he was sure that he heard the sound of something hitting the floor, they believed that nobody had opened the door before then. 

A doll's head had fallen on the other side of the corpse, so he went on to look at the Madam's bisque doll collection. Seeing such a disastrous scene was as horrifying —— if not worse —— as when he found the Madam's body. The eldest daughter then went over to the window and checked the lock. As she did so, she noticed the eldest son in the yard, unlocked it —— which the gardener was certain that he saw that it had been closed until just before —— and called out to him. 

Meanwhile the gardener had checked the Madam's pulse and was once again confronted by death.

"I don't have an alibi for the night. I spent the day organizing a plan for remodeling the garden in accommodation to the Madam's ever-increasing wishes. Goodness, it was a tremendous amount of diagrams to do...... But I didn't even go upstairs until 10 o'clock when we were scheduled to have a meeting."

"What is the proof of that?"

"Unfortunately, there is none."

"But, Halara-san. He doesn't seem like a culprit, does he?" 

Yuka remarked and showed a sketch she drew based on the gardener's testimony.

Halara narrowed their eyes. Etched on the drawing paper was the scene that the gardener saw when he opened the door. There, a picture nearly identical to the one Halara saw with 【Postcognition】 was sprawled out. Judging by the angle at which the door was opened, there was no doubt that he was the person from the 【Postcognition】—— the 'first witness'. 

Yuka's ability does not negate the possibility of false testimony, but it seemed like it would be impossible to match something like the angle of the door just by guessing. That much can almost certainly be said for sure.

Halara nodded. Facing the gardener, he/she said. 

"That is all. Much appreciated."

"Yes...... Well then, I best be going. However, I wonder what's to become this rose garden after the the Madam's passing? After having come this far in making it so magnificent, it may simply be left to wither away. Ahh, it's a shame...... Truly, it's such a shame."

If that’s the case, might as well just light it on fire I suppose.

The gardener muttered under his breath.

Yuka felt all the hairs on her body stand on end in fear. 

In the depths beneath the gardener's words lurked thick and murky darkness—— a profoundly dark glow —— swirling within. There was no limit to the depravity of these thoughts.

 Yuka pulled at Halara's sleeves, wondering if he could be the culprit. Halara ignored her and began walking. She'll be left behind at this rate. Yuka rushed to follow the figure as it moved away from the rose garden. Yuka cast a slight glance over her shoulder as she made her way towards the mansion.

The gardener stood as if buried among the roses. 

He opened and closed the gardening shears with a 'shing'.

***

In a luxurious study lined with glass bookshelves, 

a sharp and rigid clacking sound rang out.

"The circumstances at the time of discovery, and alibi, right?" 

The eldest daughter murmured while moving the chess pieces. 

This woman...... is ok, right? Yuka couldn't help but worry.

The eldest daughter was a beautiful figure, with glossy black hair and becoming amber eyes. You could say that she probably resembled her father before he became obese, considering the matching colors of their features. She was a beauty dressed in men's attire with short, boyishly styled hair. Yet unlike Halara, whose gender was completely neutral, her ample breasts filled out the front of her white button-up shirt.

She continued to stroke the pawn pieces with her fingers as she sat in a multifunctional armchair. 

"Do you really you suspect me, the Amnea Thompson?"

"......That board."

"Ahh, this? I was just doing a bit of solo play."

"It seems like you are not even aware of the proper way to move the chess pieces. Can you not play chess, by chance?"

"Don't go and call me an idiot already!"

"I didn't say that?"

Halara crossed their arms coldly.

The eldest daughter —— Amnea —— burst into tears in front of them. Apparently, Yuka thought, it seemed the only reason she was in front of the chessboard was simply to try and impress strangers. 

Amnea smashed the chess board with force, the pieces making a rattling sound as they flew away.

Then, Amnea proclaimed in an exaggeratedly tearful voice. 

"Damn it, you guys are trying to bully me too!"

"I-intense victim mentality."

"Whatever, I am an idiot anyway! I'm so empty-headed that there's not enough to go around! But I leave that kind of thing to the owner of this room, my brother Dalmatia. And yet, you say things like this and that...... Hmm, unforgivable! I'll beat you!"

"Stop it! I'll hit back!"

"I'mb sowwy!"

"So quick to repent!?" 

Yuka's eyes widened. Amnea held her head and trembled at the threat, crying softly. Halara murmured out a hum in response to the child-like reaction. 

"......Well, it would be ridiculous to try and go up against me with brute force."

"Did you say something, Halara-san?"

"Don't worry about it...... So, about our conversation." 

At that, Halara's eyes opened wide before soon narrowing them down. Hm? Yuka tilted her head. What might it be? It felt like Halara's expression had an added childishness to it that I'd never seen before. Following their gaze, Yuka noticed. 

"............ Ah-, a cat?"

Yuka quickly approached the fireplace, and Halara also came along without reproach.

 Yuka craned her neck, and when she looked into a wicker basket she saw a kitten wriggling and cooing. It looked just like a white furball. The kitten rolled over without a hint of grumpiness. An adorable pink paw was pointed at Halara, but without touching it, his/her expression softened faintly.

Yuka absent-mindedly asked. 

"Halara-san, do you like cats?"

"............ It's nothing we need to be talking about."

"No no no, I absolutely love it! After all, it is Halara-san you know? That sense of peacefulness that lights up in your eyes, isn't it?"

"What do you take me for?"

"What, that you're a cat lover? Why don't we talk about it!" 

Amnea exclaimed, her footsteps were loud as she got next to Halara. 

Amnea reached out her pale hand, to which the cat rubbed their face to be pampered. Amnea gave a sweet smile as her eyes narrowed with affection. She whispered through clenched teeth. 

"Since she's finally dead, I took in an unfortunate cat thinking I could care for it."

"Eh...... Your mother died and it hasn't even been resolved yet."

"Is that bad? I've always dreamed of having a cat since foooorever. I wasn't even allowed to talk about it out loud, ya know. It'd be the last thing I'd say. It was really hard for me to even leave the house...... so regardless of whether or not it's out of line, just leave me alone." 

Amnea whispered, her profile drooping like that of a wilted flower. Her eyes were moist with a profound sadness that was difficult to put into words. Yuka went silent, unsure of what to say.

Halara observed Amnea's expression before opening his/her mouth. 

"...... So then, would you mind telling us your story again?"

"Ahh, sure thing man. I've got nothin to be guilty about. I'll tell ya anything you wanna know." 

Amnea puffed out her chest as she spoke.

There was hardly any disparity between the story of the eldest daughter, Amnea, and the gardener's testimony. She only added more details about the situation when she called out to the eldest son. Yuka's sketchbook depicted a young man looking up toward the second floor from a rose garden. He's slender and quite handsome. His black hair and amber eyes resembled that of Amnea and their father. Yuka stared at it, pondering the possibility.

"Are you and your brother twins?"

"Yep, you nailed it. Technically, I'm supposed to be the older sister, but we are twins. I'm on good terms with Dalmatia...... who, unlike me, has the lion's share of smarts." 

Amnea laughed frankly at saying that. The carefree expression on her face invokes a genuine feeling of familiarity. Yuka thought of how nice it would be to have a twin. 

At that, Halara wordlessly raised an arm, and Amnea snapped to attention with her back straightened.

"Yii-!"

"Why"

"......I've got most of it. Let's get going." 

Halara said and began walking. What the hellll, that guy was a bastard to the end, Amnea said to the kitten. The white furball responded with a mewmew. It had heart shaped ears. The pointed tip of its heart-shaped nose twitched with a snort. The sound made Halara stop in their tracks.

With his/her back to Amnea, they inquired. 

"Just to be sure, I'd like to ask you something...... If something were to happen to you, do you have any guarantee of where the little one will go?"

"Don't be stupid! As a cat lover, of course I've decided on it! If something happens to me, my friend will take good care of it."

"......I see, alright then."

A sense of relief.

With that said, Halara exited the room. He/she also spoke to the chef and the maid. However, it resulted in nothing noteworthy there. Both men claimed to have been working at the time of the incident, had no alibis, and had not even seen the body. Mister Richard had spoken about his suspicion about the chef, but there did not seem to be any particular pieces of evidence to support this. 

Hearing all they needed to, Halara nodded and returned to the crime scene. Inside the room, the headless dolls were silent like statues of death. At the center of their blue-eyed gaze, Halara said.

"I’ve figured out the method behind the creation of the locked room."

***

"Well, saying that I figured it out isn't quite accurate...... because we already had the answer as soon as we checked the crime scene."

"A-amazing! Is that even possible!?"

"Of course it is. The person before you is Halara Nightmare. Something such as this is not even a problem." 

Halara answered smoothly. Their eyes held no hint of a bluff, but rather a sharp confidence that gleamed like a sword's edge. It was a star-like light, befitting of a detective. 

Yuka clenched her fist. Sure enough, just as expected of Halara-san.

He/she tilted their head in turn. 

"Or rather. I think we're in the foundational basics at this point. Did you really not even notice?"

"Ngh-, I- I'm a trainee detective, so"

"Even as a trainee, you need to realize that above all else you still wear the title of detective."

"U-oughh...... I didn't notice at all, so please explain it to me." 

Yuka folded easily. She knew that she wouldn't get anywhere even if she wracked her brain about it. Halara let out a sigh and shook their head before he/she opened their mouth to speak.

"Haa...... First, let's discuss the matter of 'why were the dolls destroyed?'. There must be a reason for why the culprit would destroy them. There is also a reason behind the fact that the head of one of the dolls had rolled into a position that was immediately visible upon opening the door."

"Why is that?" 

Yuka asked while looking at the heads that were now pressed against the wall. The reflections in their glass eyes gave the impression of being wet. That chilling glow seemed to evoke hatred for the murdered. Yuka wondered, why had the dolls' heads been ripped off and rolled away? 

Halara offered an explanation.

"It's 'to draw attention to the dolls'."

"To the dolls."

"This will also answer the 'traces of soot marks on the floor after opening the locked room' question. The room was indeed a locked room at the time of the crime. If that's the case, then how did the killer escape?"

"Yeah, that's the issue......"

"They didn't escape. They were hiding halfway up the chimney leading from the fireplace."

Yuka's mouth suddenly opened.

So that's it. The far end of the chimney was blocked off with a net. The room cannot be entered or exited from there. However, it is possible to hide halfway up. 

The rest is simple.

The eyewitnesses who found the doll's head were partly compelled to pay attention to the destruction caused to the bisque doll collection. While their attention was focused on that, the killer was able to slip out of the fireplace and escape. They would then nonchalantly join up later as if nothing happened.

In that case, Yuka declared.

"I- I see! That would mean that the eldest daughter Amnea-san, who was with the gardener during the initial discovery, and the eldest son Dalmatia-san, who was in the garden, can be ruled out from the list of possible suspects!"

"...... I'd hoped that you wouldn't say something so boring."

"Eh-!?"

"Behind the creation of every locked room is a purpose for its existence. It is those who are not deemed potential culprits that raise suspicion here. It's safe to say that the maid and the cook can be ruled out." 

Halara explained calmly. Uughh, Yuka thought, feeling as if she wanted to cry. 

At the same time, an image came to mind of the gardener murmuring ominously, his shears moving with a 'shing, shing'. Shifting in and out of view, treacherous thoughts were obscured by the parallax within his thicket of words.

Impulsively, Yuka raised her voice. 

"Understood! It was the gardener then."

"Didn't you believe in my 【postcognition】 and your 【sketch】 from the bottom of your heart?"

"Oh- oh yeah...... so then, who?" 

Yuka asked, on the verge of tears. Halara once again let out a sigh. However, they detached their sagacious gaze from Yuka to cast it into space. Halara muttered in contemplation.

"Since they were in the fireplace when the door was opened by the first witness, the culprit was excluded from being with the first person to discover it.... along with the eldest daughter Amnea."

"In that case then, the eldest son, Dalmatia-san? Huh...... but, Amnea-san saw Dalmatia-san in the garden......"

"It's only logical to assume that couldn't possibly be true. Given that Amnea is not the first witness...... it is plausible that she could be a perpetrator. In short, the murderer is Dalmatia, and Amnea is involved as an accomplice through giving false testimony."

I see, Yuka energetically bounced up and down in excitement.

Now the mystery was all but solved.

That should be it.

That is, until Halara opened their mouth to continue.

It was then that the door swung open. A low, beautiful voice began to flow through.

"Oh my, have I been noticed?"

"Y- you're......" 

Yuka's voice couldn't help but tremble.

A slender human bowed gracefully before them, announcing their name with grandeur.

"Salutations, I am Dalmatia Thomson. My father's favorite 【Master Detective】 had finally arrived, and when I came to extend my greetings...... it seems I was exposed before the reconnaissance." 

Murmured a man styled in a distinctive black and white suit. He had black hair and amber-colored eyes. A beautiful young man, just as Yuka depicted in her sketch. His sophisticated and intellectual impression was even stronger when I saw it in person. Shaking his head, the eldest son —— Dalmatia —— forced out in a strained voice.

"Nothing that can be done once it's been found out. Just as you've deduced......I am the one who killed my mother. It's too late to be making any excuses now, I......"

"Why"

"That's what I'll be trying to tell you right now." Dalmatia shrugged off Halara's question as if in inconvenience and shook his head in exasperation. Halara did not care for these theatrical gestures, however. Indifferent, he/she continued questioning.

"Why, are you telling such lies?"

***

"Eh?"

"Huh?"

The two voices overlapped.

The voices of Yuka and Dalmatia.

What are they talking about, Yuka wondered. Wasn't it none other than Halara themself who presented this deduction just a moment ago! Yet at the same time, Yuka began to realize.

It was clear that Halara was trying to go somewhere with this.

He/she spoke in a dry tone. 

"As I just told you before. This stuff is way too basic. It's not even a question. That being the case, there must also be a purpose behind creating a 'locked room meant to be breached'."

"Is...... is it"

"In other words, the problem itself is a trick that assumes the presence of my 【postcognition】." 

Halara asserted.

And so the mystery continues.

Yuka suddenly found herself in a daydream —— standing on a stage where the spotlights focused solely on Halara Nightmare —— only on the person whose beautifully pale complexion was brilliantly illuminated.

Halara continued to seize control of the scene with overwhelming charisma.

As the leading role (detective), he/she told the supporting cast. 

"As told by the client. 'I used to tell my family all about Halara-san', in addition to his habit of running his mouth too fast and blurting everything out. The family had plenty of opportunities to learn the details about my 【postcognition】 if that's the case."

"Which, I'm sure probably happened......"

"Therefore, the task was carried out with the anticipation that the traces of soot would be revealed during the use of 【postcognition】...... There's a lot of strange things going on otherwise."

"Wh- what's so strange?" 

Dalmatia asked with a trembling voice. He glared at Halara with a glint. However, the spotlight remained fixed, continuing to shine only above Halara's head.

He/she responded smoothly.

"First of all, there'd normally be no point in making the victim take sleeping pills. She was —— as one could surmise from the way she was staring at the camera and her lack of focus —— a petite woman with poor eyesight."

"Ah-"

"Anything could've been done to exploit her weaknesses. It would be much more sensible to kill her that way and make it look like the work of a burglar rather than going through the trouble of a locked room. And yet, it was by putting the sleeping pills in the pitcher that the culprit was quickly narrowed down to those involved."

I-indeed, Yuka nodded. That's certainly true. 

Even the initial police investigation limited the culprit to those involved because of that water pitcher. There was no point in setting such a thing up since the victim was a delicate woman who could easily be killed.

Furthermore, Halara continued. 

"Also, although I was promptly called in at the request of the victim's family in this case, police analysis should have originally confirmed that the soot on the floor was from the fireplace. Moreover, it's highly likely that subsequent investigations would reveal the false testimony. And the reason I took the time and effort was because I knew from the beginning that the client would let me solve the mystery —— thus." 

Halara fixed their gaze on Dalmatia. He flinched and clutched his chest while being pierced by their sharp gaze. It was as if he'd been stabbed through the heart. It was there that Halara pushed their verbal blade even further in.

"To become officially identified as the culprit by a Master Detective certified by the World Detective Organization. That was precisely your goal. Once the Master Detective identifies the culprit, the investigation will be closed at that point."

In other words, there’s another culprit.

Halara asserted definitively. Yuka was speechless. What kind of criminal would try to use 【Master Detectives】 for such a purpose? Still, though, Yuka thought. Despite her worry, she opened her mouth.

"But, Halara-san...... isn't it strange?"

"What part?"

—————————————————————

Notes:

There's a part that's describing the gardener's words as 見え隠れ(miegakure), which is a gardening technique that keeps parts of a garden hidden depending on where you're standing, and only becomes visible as you walk through. Closest thing I could compare it to was parallax, but in order to fit the gardening pun I added 'thicket' as a descriptor to try to reflect that.

While I tried to add honorifics, Halara and Yuka sometimes use a -shi honorific for Richard. I don’t know if people are generally familiar with it, so I just replaced it with Mister

Amnea speaks in a very masculine manner, so when I put stuff like ‘man’ and ‘guy’, it’s in a non-gendered dudebro kind of way.

[steddiebang]

Rounding Third, Sliding Home

Author: @thefreakandthehair l Artist: @sungods_healing l Artist: @oriarts Posting on Saturday, November 25

Steve Harrington is a baseball wunderkind and the star shortstop of the LA Dodgers. It’s his life, his purpose, his escape— so when he injures his UCL and has to return Indiana to recover, he’s not sure where to go from there. It’s here that he meets Eddie Munson, local massage therapist who soon becomes so, so much more. Over the several months he’s back home, Steve is surprised to find that Eddie’s tender, caring touch heals much more than his arm. Love builds a bridge between himself and this wonderfully ridiculous, gregarious man, but digs a mote between who Steve wants to be and who he is. When he heals up and goes back to his old life, can Steve and Eddie find a way to keep what they’ve built?

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

💆🏻‍♂️

Eddie still doesn’t care much about baseball, not about the sport itself at least, but watching Steve play almost makes him care. There’s something special about the way he moves, like his glove is simply part of his body, like he floats around the in-field rather than runs. He’s a fucking natural at this and Eddie has no doubt— not a single one— that this, right here, is what Steve was born to do. Painful though it still is, it’s hard to begrudge Steve for making the choice he’s made.

Something happens that Eddie doesn’t follow, but Chrissy cheers along with the crowd so Eddie follows suit. And then he hears it, the unmistakable twang and reverberation of the guitar lead-in to Tom Petty’s I Won’t Back Down. Blood rushes to his head, all glee and overwhelm when Steve steps out of the dugout and the entire stadium erupts. People scream, sing along, stomp their feet on the bleachers in such a way that it feels like the Earth itself is shaking. 

Eddie’s world certainly is. 

Beyond seeing Steve in his uniform, a treat in itself, it’s as though he’s seeing a wholly different side of him. As he walks up to the plate for the first time all season, bat in one hand and waving to the crowd with the other, Eddie sits silent. He’s only known Steve as the cute guy who’d needed a massage therapist, whose face scrunches up when he laughs from his belly, who falls asleep when Eddie plays with his hair, and who prefers his pasta just a touch underdone for more of a bite. Somehow, the Steve who’d held his hand the first time they slept together is the same Steve whose name and walk-up music sends a packed crowd into a frenzy. 

And for some reason, reasons that become more and more unfathomable the longer the crowd celebrates, Steve wants him. Or at least, wanted him. He’s still unsure of what to expect but even if that happiness is now in the past tense, to have been loved at all by Steve Harrington is miracle enough. 

“That’s your man, Munson! Cheer!” Robin reaches over Chrissy to smack him on the arm and he springs back to life. Your man is presumptuous but even if it’s one-sided, she’s not wrong. 

He cheers so goddamn loud. 

⚾️

It’s the first time in almost a year that Steve’s stepped up to a plate, and it should make him feel… something. Nervous, anxious, excited. The roar of the crowd doesn’t die down but he drowns it out and instead searches the bleachers behind third base, looking for a few very specific faces. 

Robin makes herself known first, standing and waving the hand sign for I love you frantically. Dustin and Chrissy flank both sides of her, and then he spots Eddie whose hands are cupped on either side of his mouth in what he’s sure is a terrifyingly loud scream. 

For him. 

Steve can’t give himself the time to process or think, but he knows that having Eddie there for his first game back means more than the entire fucking stadium. 

The crowd sings along to Tom Petty until the music fades out. Steve rolls his shoulders back and stretches his neck, just like Eddie taught him, before cranking the bat back into his stance. Feet hip-width apart, slight bend at the waist and knees, elbow up, eyes on the pitcher. 

Just as he’s ready to swing, the Phillies elect to intentionally walk him. 

The crowd boos at the anticlimactic decision almost as loudly as they’d cheered for his return as he drops his bat and jogs to first base, rolling his eyes at the pitcher who was too cowardly to pitch to him. 

Coward.

[ultrainfinitepit]

Angelology III: Wings and Waves is launching September 12 2023.

Our third goal at $4500 is to fund two more pins, Angelic Lobster and Peacock Angel:

Angelic Lobster will be 2.1 inches long, with gold plating and yellow glitter enamel.

Peacock Angel will be 2 inches long, with gold plating. 

If you like these designs, you can follow the pre-launch page to be notified when the campaign is live. Stay tuned for more previews of the campaign pins and other items.

[sapphire-dreamsky]

a nymph's tale

starring: female reader | poseidon is mentioned pairing: ambiguous warnings: possible character death | ending is up to readers' interpretations narration: third person point-of-view preview: The Rock on the South West of Cape Sounion, the one at the mercy of those storms and waves, was once the stage to a nymph who was unfortunate enough to catch the temperamental Lord of the Sea’s attention and his wrath by the same occasion. She would sing, perched like a mermaid —not like a siren— on top of the rock and tales of the hero’s Perseus bravery would fall into a melody.

On the south west of Cape Sounion, there was a mass of rock, one that was big enough for small children to play pirates on, close enough to the bay that it is easily accessible by a small boat, but still far enough for parents to worry and ground their children for playing on such an unsafe land.

“How many times have I told you not to take your father’s boat and go on that island with your friends, hmm? What if there was a storm? What would you have done? You could drown! Don’t you realise that?”

The children would then be grounded while grumbling under their breath over how unfair their parents were being. But the warnings of the older generation are rarely founded on unnecessary worry. There was once a story, although like the drawings on the sand, time has washed away some important details that gave the tale a whole different perspective. The one the parents of these children knew went like this:

The Rock on the South West of Cape Sounion, the one at the mercy of those storms and waves, was once the stage to a nymph who was unfortunate enough to catch the temperamental Lord of the Sea’s attention and his wrath by the same occasion. She would sing, perched like a mermaid —not like a siren— on top of the rock and tales of the hero’s Perseus bravery would fall into a melody. The people of Cape Sounion were mostly devoted to the Lord of the Sea, Poseidon. They knew the song was disrespectful to their god. So, to protect themselves from the wrath of their deity, they tried chasing away the nymph. But her stubbornness was her will. She remained there, on that little rock, tales of different heroes accommodated in different songs. For the people of Cape Sounion, so long as it was not one about a certain Cyclopes slaying hero, it didn’t matter much whether the nymph wanted to stay or not. Her stories were entertaining. They were a good companion to the fishermen. A good storyteller to the children who would flock to the bay to hear about the adventures of those who dared leave their home to fulfil a greater purpose. The tales also, ironically enough, dispelled any chants of the sirens flying over the untamed waters for an unsuspecting and desirable meal. The nymph was, in all retrospect, not unwanted, but not wanted either. She was just there, treating that rock as if it was the stage for some play of Dionysos. She was a part of their daily lives, almost a resident of the bay. When one of them passed to the other side, she would mourn with them, craft a different song, one that was created specially for the one who passed, tailored to retell their exploits and lives, as if they were a hero. She immortalised each and everyone of the people into beautiful verses, turning their mundane everyday life into one where each day was an adventure filled with little mishaps just like the mortal heroes who were blessed enough to become gods. To her, the people of Cape Sounion were heroes with untold tales. 

However, it turned out that the Lord of the Sea was not as entertained as the people of Cape Sounion were. Children were flocking to the shore as usual, men were getting readying their boat for an early start under the warm sun. The nymph was watching them with inquisitive eyes as the humans all focus on their morning tasks. There was not a cloud in the sky that warned for such a sudden change in the weather. A sudden waved crashed warningly against the shore. The men stopped their ministrations. The waves began slowly receding back, a warning of an incoming tsunami. The men start leaving their nets and boats behind, scooping up any children in sight and running to safety. They could feel the impending fury of Poseidon. His aura was overwhelming. His wrath impartial to wives and children. The men were shouting loudly to get everyone out of their dwellings and to seek shelter on the highest platforms. No one cared to warn the nymph that the god of the sea had finally decided to leave his palace to pay a visit to the bard nymph. But then again, it was to be expected. A god didn’t need to give a warning. Their wrath was loud and like a match, easily lit. Their temper were akin to that of a child, not that anyone would ever dare mention this to them. It was as if they were never taught as toddlers to control their whims and anger. The gods of Olympus, amidst all their powers and wisdom were, in people’s heart, energetic emotional children with the body and abilities of an adult. The Earth and the humans were their playground, somewhere to can do as they please, unleash any frustrations or anger that was in their hearts.

When the coast was deemed clear, the residents of the bay returned to their homes, some to their boats to look for any damages done to their belongings. Luckily there was none. They started the day as they would, although a bit later than usual but it was not like they could go to Zeus and complain to him about his older’s brother temperament disrupting their day (Though, honestly, even if they did go and complain to Zeus, the latter would be able to do absolutely nothing. Poseidon listened to Hades the most, not that the humans knew that).

In their haste to resume their interrupted morning routine, no one noticed the unusual silence surrounding their waters. The children were shouting, reunited with their friends, blissfully unaware of how their lives had a close interaction with death for a split second. It was only when the fishermen were at sea, and that they could hear the tantalising songs of the sirens flying above their head that they realised their mockingbird was not there to shield them from those vultures with women torsos. They shrugged it off. 

“The nymph must have been scared.”

This was the reasoning they gave to their wives later that night after the women noted how disappointed the children were when they flocked to the bay only to hear the sounds of the sea gulls and the waves crashing against the shore. 

“She will come back tomorrow.”

The next day was filled with the same silence. 

“It’s alright, I’m sure she escaped from Poseidon before he descended. She is a clever nymph.”

Four days had passed. One of the fishermen was taken by the sirens. The funeral for that fisherman was filled with silence. No mourning song was uttered from the rock on the south west. No creature related to the gods mourned the death of a father, a husband, and a son. The fisherman who was taken by the sirens was sent off without any sympathy from anyone from Olympus. 

Weeks turned into months. Initially, her story was told with a tinge of regret to the next generation of children. But the regret was soon replaced with a cautionary tone. The nymph soon became the muse to scare children in an attempt to prevent them from misbehaving and upsetting the gods, particularly the god of the sea, their patron guardian.

“Do not swear in his name or he will come and get you just like the nymph.”

The tale of the nymph on the south west of Cape Sounion would live on; fight and win against time. Her story became akin to that of the tales of demigods that she was so fond to sing to those willing to listen. 

Like a hero, she became a myth. Ever evolving; ever changing. Some nuances were added. Some controversies were created. 

“The god of the sea took her and made her his entertainer for eternity.”

“Lord Poseidon was listening to her songs all this time. Jealous of sharing her with the people of Cape Sounion, he decided to take her away to his palace.”

“Lord Poseidon was affronted by her songs about the hero Perseus.”

“The nymph was scared of Lord Poseidon, she knew that the storm was her last warning. So she decided to run away.”

“The nymph was the wife of Lord Poseidon, Lady Amphitrite all along. After one of her husband’s many indiscretions, she decided to take revenge on him by singing about the tales of mortal heroes.”

“Lord Poseidon fell in love with the nymph after hearing her voice. To hide her from his wife’s wrath, he took her somewhere only he knows.”

Her tale changed depending on the intentions of the poet. Sometimes, she was said to have been killed after acquiring the wrath of the god of the sea. Other times, she was a revengeful disguised Amphitrite. Who was the nymph really? No one really knew. No one took the time to know her name. She would forever be a mystery. A tale of a nymph with no name; no identity; no one to mourn her.

But then again, it was easier for those who witnessed the incoming storm and forwent warning the nymph about it to tell a happier version of what happened. This helped quell the guilt in their hearts when they realised that maybe, just maybe, they should have tried getting to know their personal singer and story-teller.

Though, it was too late now. So they told themselves:

“Lord Poseidon fell in love with her voice and her tales. He decided to grant her a place in his palace. She is his favourite entertainer.”

[yunarim]

⇢ ⁺ SYNOPSIS ˖ I wonder if maybe one day, when I'm a Fairy Godmother, I can go back and visit the princessess again. ಇ. INSPIRED BY ˖ 'disney princess: my fairytale adventure' in which main heroine becomes the Fairy Godmother's apprentice who helps disney princessess stop a dark spell that has been casted over the kingdoms. what will happen if she suddenly enters TWISTED WONDERLAND?

┆original take on YUU and RSA — TAGS : female reader (she/her pronouns), lowkey character & magic study, third person perspective, working tags — AO3

﹒﹒⟢﹒PREVIEW ˖

“Ah, could it be my dear Sprites turned into little mischievous Imps again?..” 

Yuu wonders, observing a mysterious mirror which just appeared in the Main Hall. Princesses portraits look as magnificent as they always were, and the crystals above golden inwrought mirror frames seem normal. 

She most certainly did not cast any wrong spells, and yet her magic wand starts resonating with strange energy waves coming from a new obscure mirror. Could it be that the princesses are in danger again? 

∘₊✧─ And always remember, young lady… If they’d lost all their faith, you couldn’t be there. And there you are!

This is right. There’s someone waiting for her to make their dreams come true. 

Yuu sees a hand in a welcoming gesture, a grip on her magic wand tightens, and she makes a step forward without any hesitation.

Every miracle takes a little time, after all.

— NOTES ˖

It’s alright if you haven't played Disney Princess: My Fairytale Adventure because I’m here to explain! 

The game dwells on Cinderella, The Little Mermaid, Rapunzel, Beauty and the Beast, The Princess and the Frog Disney movies. Actually there’s another game called Disney Princess: Enchanted Journey where MC enters The Little Mermaid, Cinderella, Aladdin, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, Beauty and the Beast Disney realms. 

It’s implied MC knows the plot of the disney movies. In this work Yuu knows all the Disney movies existing up to today. I’ll also make a lot of references to not only listed but other disney movies too!  This is an original take on RSA and a great part of the fic will be devoted to RSA and its characters I created with the help of my dear friend. But NRC remains the crucial part of the story.

Yuu wields a magic wand, and it’s pretty much similar to the original game except for the fact I changed the design.

A lot of magic study! Yuu is quite a remarkable sorceress but she’s not imbalanced.

Yuu doesn’t remember her past, why and when she became the Fairy Godmother’s apprentice, but I’ll dwell on it as the story progresses. 

And finally, I hope you’ll have fun reading this ^^ I may be slow with writing chapters but I hope I’ll manage to post one chapter per month!

© yunarim 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐲, 𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧.

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Welcome to Your New Unlife

Shadow City AU - Chapter One?

A JSE Fanfic

You all voted on the poll for this, so here you go! I wasn't able to finish this week's PNPT AU chapter, but I've had this sitting in my WIPs for a while. Shadow City is an urban fantasy AU where the septic egos are all various supernatural creatures, hiding right under the noses of the everyday people of the city Scuabyrg. Chase is new to this, having just woken up one morning as a ghost. Jackie, Schneep, and Marvin are all friends, being a werewolf, vampire, and witch respectively. And JJ is new in town, moving in along with a mysterious roommate.

It's important to note that I am NOT READY to start posting this AU regularly. Though I've been working on it on and off for a while, I have not really gotten that far, and I'm not really able to fit it into my schedule. I guess I COULD add it into the rotation so I write five AUs at a time instead of four? But quite frankly, I don't want to do that XD There's already a long delay between chapters of my weekly AUs as it is. Maybe if you guys want it, I can post this AU sporadically? When I get to it? Who knows? I just hope you enjoy this 10k word preview, I guess XD

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Chase opened his eyes to a killer headache.

He groaned and closed his eyes once more, pressing his hands to either side of his head. He must have had too much to drink again last night. He rolled over, expecting to feel his mattress or the sofa cushions shift under him... but the surface he was lying on was harder than that. Did he fall asleep on the floor? That was a new low.

It took him a moment to realize he wasn’t alone. There were voices around him.

The headache was already fading, but it still took some effort for him to open his eyes again and look around. He was, indeed, lying on the floor of his living room. Specifically, underneath the front window, pressed up against the blue-wallpapered wall. The floor was carpeted, but the short beige carpet wasn’t exactly soft. Not a good place to sleep. But that was the least of his concerns now, as he saw three strangers wandering around the room. “Hey!” he shouted, sitting up. “What the hell are you doing?!”

The strangers didn’t respond to him. Two of them were talking, standing between the coffee table and his TV stand. The third one was looking down at the brown sofa. He saw her pick up an empty bottle from the end table with a gloved hand and look it over. They weren’t trying to be subtle or careful about any of this. They were clearly visible in the sunlight coming from the open window. Were they robbing him? Who robbed someone in the middle of the day?!

“I asked you what the hell you were doing!” Chase snapped. He climbed to his feet—or tried to, at least. He felt... weirdly floaty. His arms and legs weren’t responding like they should. But he pushed through that and got up. “This is my house and I didn’t fucking let you in! Get out before I call the cops!”

They weren’t even phased by his shouting. Chase felt a spike of fear and panic, and his eyes darted around, looking for his phone. He left it on the coffee table last night... last he knew. He didn’t actually remember... a lot of last night. He didn’t drink that much, did he?

Whatever. His phone wasn’t on the table. But he knew that this house he rented came with a landline in the kitchen. Too bad the archway to the kitchen was through the weird guys in his living room. Chase hesitated, trying to plot a way through them, scanning the living room.

...something was wrong with the sunlight.

He frowned, unsure what it was. Curious, he raised his hand and waved it, staring at the ground to see if his shadow was weird or something.

...

In a way, he was right.

Because his shadow... wasn’t there at all.

Chase stared at the ground. He leaned side to side, hoping that maybe this was just the hangover messing with his vision or something. But... no, he didn’t have a shadow.

“Wh-what?” He breathed, a disbelieving laugh tracing the word. This couldn’t be right. He turned around to look out the window, having the absurd thought that someone was playing a trick on him with a special kind of light.

Outside the window, the small front garden of his house was overrun with more strangers. But... not just any strangers. Some of them were wearing familiar uniforms. And there was a big white van with sirens and open back doors—an ambulance. There was an ambulance outside, accompanied by paramedics and police. All outside his house.

He stared at them for a moment, then turned to look at the strangers in his room again. For the first time, he really took in what they were talking about. “Well if there’s no sign of a break-in, it’s pretty clear what it was, don’t you think?” one of them was saying.

Another one sighed. “Yeah. But it’s just... you want it to be anything else, don’t you?”

“What’s going on?” Chase asked. “Wh-what are you talking about? I-is someone hurt?!” His eyes darted around the room again, looking for something out of the ordinary—

There was a stain on the ground.

To his left. There was a stain on the ground.

A rusty red-brown splatter, partially covering the wall as well.

Blood.

Chase suddenly felt very cold. “What... what’s happening?” he whispered. He looked up at the strangers. They must have been more police officers—or detectives, maybe, since they weren’t in uniform. The two were carrying on with their conversation. The third was standing up and heading down the hallway. Completely unbothered. Like they... hadn’t seen or heard him at all... 

The cold feeling deepened.

“I-I... I-if you aren’t going to answer me, then—then I-I’m leaving!” Chase announced. He headed to the nearby front door, reaching for the doorknob—

His hand passed right through it.

He stared at the doorknob, not comprehending what just happened. Slowly, he reached out again, as if he thought that going slower would help. But... no. His hand passed through it again.

He looked at his hand. It looked normal to him. Maybe a bit pale? He took a deep breath...

Or... he tried to. His chest rose and fell, but he felt no air pass through his nose. Or through his mouth, when he tried again.

He wasn’t breathing.

He didn’t have a shadow.

People couldn’t see or hear him.

And his hand passed right through things.

Was he...?

No. No, this had to be a dream! A nightmare! Panicking, he ran right at the door—and as suspected, he passed right through the wood and ended up outside.

It was a sunny day. It was near the end of summer, before the chill of autumn started to set in.  There wasn’t a cloud in the sky to block the sun from beating down. And there was no wind rustling the clothes and hair of the people outside.

But he couldn’t feel the heat.

In a daze, he moved forward, weaving around the police. He moved towards the ambulance. Towards its open doors.

Inside was a black bag.

“Oh god...” Chase whispered. He backed up again. “F-fuck.” His chest was rising and falling quickly, but it was just a habit, he didn’t feel the air, he didn’t feel the breath—He ran his hand through his hair. He could feel that fine! And... he could feel something on the side of his head. Something he didn’t notice when he opened his eyes earlier.

The spot where his head hurt... it was sticky.

Chase felt his head, to make sure that this was what he thought it was. A sticky, slightly warm spot on either side of his head. His head didn’t hurt anymore, but—fuck, was this what caused it?!

His eyes darted around, looking for something, anything, to explain why this was happening. Did someone break into his house?! Attack him in his sleep?! Was anyone else in the neighborhood hurt, or was it just him?! He couldn’t see any answers to these questions. But... he could see someone looking at him.

Chase stared back at this stranger. He moved back and forth slightly, to be sure that the stranger was looking at him—which he was, as his eyes darted to follow Chase’s motion. This stranger was wearing a blue jacket, which was identical to the blue jackets that some of the other people around were wearing. A uniform? The stranger’s hair was brown, pulled back in a small manbun, and he had a beard that was thick but not too long. As Chase stared back at him, the stranger subtly jerked his head to the side, then walked that way. Did he want Chase to follow him?

He was hesitant at first, but what else was he supposed to do now? This guy was the only person who could see him so far. Maybe he had answers. Chase headed after him.

The stranger had ducked around the corner of the house, leaning by the iron fence that separated it from the neighbor. Now that Chase was closer, he could see the words SPDFI written in yellow on the jacket’s lapel. ‘SPD’... That probably stood for Scuabyrg Police Department—Scuabyrg being the city that Chase lived in, the city they were in right now. What did ‘FI’ stand for, though?

“Well, uh... hey,” the stranger said.

“Can you see me?” Chase blurted out.

The stranger laughed. “Yeah, I can. And hear you, too.” He smiled a bit. “I’m Jack McLoughlin. I work for Forensic Investigation. We’re the people who investigate crime scenes.”

Ah, so that’s what ‘FI’ stood for. “So... why are you... Wh-why can you see me?” Chase whispered. “When I’m... A-am I... Am I... dead?”

Jack’s smile fell and he became serious again. “I... want to be sensitive about this. But... yeah. You are.”

Chase didn’t say anything. He stared at Jack blankly.

“Take a moment to process it,” Jack said gently. “It’s... obviously it’s a lot. You’re probably overwhelmed. That’s okay.”

“I-I don’t... understand,” Chase whispered. “What happened to me?”

“...do you want me to be blunt and tell you?” Jack asked.

“Yeah.”

“Brace yourself, okay?” Jack paused for a moment. “You got shot in the head.”

“I figured that out,” Chase dismissed. He tapped the side of his head. “I felt the spot. But—why?!”

“Uh... well, from what I’ve overheard, they think...” Jack coughed awkwardly.

“Someone killed me?”

“No, uh, not someone... else.”

Chase stared. He felt a sinking feeling in his stomach—or... the spot where his stomach would be, if he had a body. “They think that... it was self-inflicted?”

“Well, uh... if you’re so surprised, they’re probably wrong,” Jack said slowly.

“Y-yeah of course I am! I mean, I’m not—I wouldn’t say I never—But not while my—holy shit my family!” Chase gasped. “They’re going to—oh my god, I—Declan’s going to—Stacy—”

“Please try to calm down.” Jack’s voice was steady. “Focus on the world around you. You are here. This is real.”

Chase took a few more deep “breaths.” Even though it didn’t do anything, the motion was comforting. “I—I didn’t want—I mean, does anyone really want—”

“We’re going to take this slowly,” Jack continued. “One thing at a time. This is a massive change, but it will be okay.”

“Okay?! I’m dead!”

“But you’re still around. That means you still have stuff to do here.”

Chase pressed a hand to his chest. He could feel it. He could feel that. Jack was right, he was still here. “Okay,” he whispered. “Okay.” He nodded, then gave Jack another look. “So... You see dead people?”

Jack cracked a smile. “Yeah. I have a gift for it. A sixth sense, ESP, whatever you want to call it. Been that way all my life, so I’m used to it. I know a lot about ghosts and all that.”

“Okay... so... ghosts are real,” Chase stated. “People... really do become ghosts when they die.”

“Oh, not everyone,” Jack said. “It depends.”

“On what?”

“If you have unfinished business. People who die with big regrets, people who were in the middle of something, people who had one last thing they wanted to do... those guys become ghosts. It’s why I went into CSI and forensics and stuff. People who die in accidents or, uh... murders... a-are more likely to have that tether that keeps them to this side.” Jack tilted his head. “So... Do you know what your business is? It’s okay if you don’t. Not all ghosts do.”

“I...” Chase paused. “I... don’t know. I... Maybe it’s my family.”

“That would make sense,” Jack said slowly. “What’s your family like?”

“I-I have a wife, Stacy—well, um, technically she’s my ex-wife. We... finalized our divorce recently.” Chase winced just remembering it. “But, um, we don’t hate each other! We just... thought it was better this way. I-it was mostly her idea. And I guess I don’t blame her, I... I think I was a good dad, but maybe not a good, uh, homemaker. Anyway, yeah, uh, I-I also have a son. Declan. H-he’s ten.” He smiled slightly. “My little ball of sunshine.” The smile faded. “I would never... I-I wouldn’t leave him. Never.”

Jack nodded sympathetically. “I believe you. I guess... I guess that things aren’t what they look like in there. Someone must’ve framed it as a suicide.”

“But who the fuck would want to kill me?” Chase asked. “I’m a nobody! I’m a wannabe streamer, there’s no reason to sneak into my house and murder me!”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know.” Jack shook his head. “Um... what’s your name, by the way? I should’ve asked you earlier.”

Chase laughed. “Oh, I didn’t even realize you hadn’t asked. I’m Chase. Chase Brody. Sometimes called BroAverage online, but there’s only a handful of people who’d know me as that, I bet.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Chase.” Jack smiled. “I’d like to help you get used to all this.”

“Get used to being a ghost?” Chase repeated doubtfully.

“People can get used to anything,” Jack said. “But it’s not just that. Now that you’re a ghost... well, you might want to know that there’s more to the world than you think.”

Chase blinked in surprise—realizing that, like breathing, the motion was no longer instinctual. “What do you mean?”

“There are... more creatures in the world than you’d expect,” Jack said slowly. “Creatures of the night, they’re sometimes called. The shadow world.”

“You mean like... what?”

“Again, do you want me to be blunt?”

“Might as well.”

Jack shrugged. “Like witches and vampires and werewolves and zombies and—”

“WHAT?!” Chase shouted.

“You told me to be blunt,” Jack pointed out.

“Fucking vampires and werewolves exist?!” If Chase hadn’t woken up as a ghost, he wouldn’t have believed it.

“Yeah.” Jack glanced to the side. “But, uh, unfortunately, I’m not sure I have enough time to explain all that. We were about to clear up here when you Awoke. I-I can come back some other time to explain more, but for now, let me give you the basics of being a ghost.”

“Uh... okay.” The news about other supernatural creatures still hadn’t fully sunken in, so might as well move on.

“You’re still a, uh, ‘new’ ghost,” Jack said delicately. “So you won’t be able to go much farther than the spot you died. But you seem pretty aware, so you’ll probably get stronger real quick.”

“Can I... talk to people?” Chase asked. “Other than you, I mean. Like, you always hear about ghostly voices on those ghost hunter shows.”

Jack chuckled. “Ghost hunter shows aren’t all that reliable. But... yeah. Ghosts can speak, be seen, and touch things, but you need to concentrate to be able to do it.”

“Concentrate?”

“It’s all about intention. You usually don’t think much about being seen, cause it just happens. But as a ghost, you need to think about it. Put effort into it. Most ghosts find it easiest to concentrate on speaking, since, uh, when you’re talking you’re already kind of intending to be heard. So just do that, but more so. Manifesting and touching things are a bit more difficult.”

“Okay...” Chase said slowly. “I think I’m following.”

“Here, I think I have time for a demonstration.” Jack reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small sphere, about the size of a golf ball, made of cloudy glass. “Hold out your hand.”

Chase did so. Jack put his left hand under his—Chase realized he could see it through his own hand—and then used his right hand to drop the glass sphere towards Chase’s hand. It passed right through and landed in Jack’s hand instead. “Uh...”

“You gotta concentrate on catching the ball,” Jack said. “You’re just expecting to be able to stop it. That’s not enough. Actively think about touching the ball. Ready to try again?”

Chase nodded slowly. As Jack started to drop the sphere towards his hand again, Chase really thought about the sphere, imagining how it would feel when it hit his hand, his hand which was definitely really there—

The sphere landed in his palm. For a second, Chase could feel the smooth texture and weight of it. Then he startled in surprise and the sphere slipped through, into Jack’s hand beneath his. Jack grinned. “Hey, first try! That’s very good, not all ghosts can pass in the first ten tries.”

“H-ha. Thanks.” Chase smiled softly.

“Hey McLoughlin!” a voice shouted. “What’re you doing? We’re heading out!”

Jack winced. He looked at Chase apologetically. “Guess I gotta run. I’ll try to stop by as soon as I can. Sometime tomorrow, if possible, or the day after.”

“Oh. Yeah no, uh, go ahead.” Chase nodded.

“See you around, Chase,” Jack said, then turned and left.

“See you around,” Chase repeated, watching him go. He stared as the police, paramedic, and forensics guys all piled into cars that drove away. The last to go was the ambulance... the ambulance with his body.

Chase sat down on the ground. He looked down at himself. A gray shirt, jeans with holes in the knees, and plain white socks. That was what he had died in. This was what he would look like forever now. He could feel his favorite cap on his head, too. He started to reach up to take it off, but stopped. This wasn’t really his favorite cap. The same way these weren’t really his clothes, and this wasn’t really his body. What if the cap disappeared when he took it off? He didn’t want to lose it. After all... this was all he really had now, wasn’t it?

Fuck. He was dead. 

And yet... he was still here.

Chase looked up into the sky and watched the sun move gradually, letting it all sink in.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Evening came, and the sun soon completely faded from the sky. The city lights turned on, filling the shadows with artificial brightness. For most everyday citizens, these were the quiet hours of the day. But for some, the city really came alive at night.

One such person was Jackie Sheach, who was walking through the downtown streets with complete confidence. Jackie wore his favorite red hoodie today, along with one of his many pairs of ripped jeans. His brown hair is messy, his face partially hidden by a dark beard, but his blue eyes seemed to shine in the darkness, like they were reflecting what little light there was. He was currently talking on the phone. “—No yeah I’ll be back before midnight, I promise,” he said.

“You better,” said a female voice on the other end. “You stay out way too late, Jackie. Your sleep schedule can’t handle it!”

“My sleep schedule?!” Jackie laughed. “Lily, c’mon. Do any of us have consistent sleep schedules? It’s kind of part of the whole thing, isn’t it?”

“We’re going to set a good example for Bryson,” Lily said firmly.

“The new guy?”

“Yep. You remember how it can be an adjustment. The least we can do is provide a solid foundation!”

“You sound like a youth leader,” Jackie commented.

“I might as well be a youth leader with all of you acting like children sometimes!” Lily said. “Do youth leaders even still exist? I haven’t seen any, like, youth hangout centers in years.”

“Who knows?” Jackie shrugged. “Anyway, yeah, I’ll be back by midnight. Schneep’s responsible, he’ll make sure I stick to my word. Speaking of which...” He could see his destination coming up. A hanging wooden sign with the image of a crescent moon and the words “The Harvest Moon” burned into it. The sign dangled over a plain wooden door, sandwiched between two businesses with flashing neon signs. It would have been so easy to miss it. “I’m here. Don’t want to keep him waiting.”

“See you later, Jackie,” Lily said.

“See you.”

The door to the Harvest Moon was plain, and there was no sign to say that the business was open. But there didn’t need to be. If you were here, you knew the hours. Jackie opened the door right up, revealing a staircase heading down. He walked down the twelve or so steps and arrived at a glass door that had the same moon logo as the sign. In front of the door was a Welcome mat. “Heeeere we are,” Jackie said to himself, pushing the door open. A chiming sound rang out—not a bell, more like soft wind chimes.

The Harvest Moon was a small establishment, its walls made of exposed red brick with pale wooden columns painted with some decals and covered in posters. Bar-shaped light bulbs dangled from wooden rafters. To the left and right, when walking in from the entrance, were long pale wooden tables and chairs, taking up most of the dining area. A bar was pressed against the far wall, and next to it was an open entrance leading to the wood-paneled hallway that led to the bathrooms and kitchen. Jackie could smell the mix of various pub dishes and alcoholic drinks in the air.

This time of night, the Harvest Moon was fairly empty, since it was still early for many of its patrons. Jackie walked past the tables, taking note of the few customers in here. There was a trio of younger, college-aged guys that he hadn’t seen in here before, talking casually over a plate of fries. Beneath the fried smell of the food, Jackie could pick up on a bright scent, clear and bringing to mind something that sparkled. There were two girls around Jackie’s own age, each nursing a fruity cocktail. One had the scent of ash and burning, while the other had a familiar sort of musk—though he knew she wasn’t part of Heartwoods, so maybe she was in some other pack. There was a person wearing a dramatic-looking black cloak in the corner, not eating anything. The scent coming from that direction was a mix of old books and freshly-mown grass.

And there was one more person sitting at the bar, checking a watch on his wrist. Jackie slid onto a stool next to him, recognizing the scent before he even recognized the person. Something salty, like an ocean breeze, but missing the undercurrent of blood and sweat that most creatures had. “Hey, Schneep. Sorry I’m late.”

The man turned to look at him. “I went to so much trouble to get here early just for you, you know,” he said with a scowl. He had a passing resemblance to Jackie, with his brown hair and blue eyes, but his hair and beard were much neater, his features slightly more angular. His skin had a slight gray tinge to it—just enough to notice. He wore a long black coat over a pale brown sweater and darker brown dress pants. “Do you know when I had to wake up? Sunset! And you are late?! I could have slept in.” His voice was tinged with a German accent.

“Yeahhh, sorry,” Jackie hissed. “I had a last-minute delivery I had to do. Who orders food at eight o’clock at night?”

“A lot of people I know,” Schneep muttered. “And not all of them walk in the shadows. Some of them are just night people. Did you get it there in time?”

“Uhhh... yeah?”

“Why is there a question mark at the end of that answer?”

“I mean, I got it there,” Jackie said. “But I thought it would’ve been faster to shift and run. Turns out it was not. Because people noticed and I had to take the long way to lose them.”

“Hmm.” Schneep reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, opening up an app. “That explains this.” He showed Jackie his screen. On it was a blurry photo of some giant dog-like thing running across a city street with a bag in its mouth. The photo was clearly posted on social media.

Jackie groaned. “Lily is gonna kill me.”

A woman approached them from the other side of the bar, with dark skin and a head of black curls. She wore a green button-down shirt with short sleeves and a name tag, but Jackie had been here enough to recognize her face and her petrichor scent. “Welcome back again, you two,” she said. “The usual?”

“To start with, yeah,” Jackie said. “Thanks, Dolores.”

“Yes, thank you, Dolores,” Schneep said.

Dolores nodded and smiled and turned around. She pointed at several bottles on the shelves behind the bar, and they started to move on their own, pouring into cups and mixing together. A minute later, she turned back around and deposited a glass in front of each of them. Jackie’s was a lowball glass filled with a purple-blue drink, and Schneep’s was a martini glass with a red liquid inside. “Enjoy. Are we going all night or do you have work, doc?”

Schneep shook his head. “It is my night off.”

“I, uh, need to be back home by midnight,” Jackie mumbled. “I promised Lily. She wants everyone to start having consistent sleep schedules.”

Schneep raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t it hard to get a consistent schedule with the moon situation?”

“That’s what I said!” Jackie took a drink from his glass. “But we have this new guy, Bryson. She wants us to be good examples for him.”

Dolores chuckled, leaning on the bar. “New guy? You make it sound like it’s a job.”

“Well I mean... it takes up as much time as a job does,” Jackie said slowly. “Technically?”

“It does not,” Schneep muttered.

Jackie nudged him.

“Do not be like that!” Schneep said. “It is true! A transformation like that is so much more than a job. It is a change in your lifestyle.” He took a sip of his own drink. “Well, ah... how is your new guy adjusting?”

“Better than most people do, to be honest,” Jackie said. “He says he had trouble making friends before so he’s grateful that we’re all being so friendly. His only complaint is that he’s not sure how to explain it to his mom.”

Schneep chuckled. “Well, that is a relatively small problem to have in the scheme of things.” Another drink. “He is lucky to have found your pack. You are good people.”

“Daww, really?” Jackie grinned.

“Really.” Schneep nodded. “Sometimes I wish we had packs, too.”

“Dude, nothing’s stopping you guys from forming one. They’re not special to wolves. Any group of close people is a pack. But it’s just not called that, it’s called a friend group or something. But if you want a cool name, you could call it a... uh...” Jackie hesitated. “What’s the word for a group of bats?” He took his phone out of his hoodie pocket to google it while Schneep and Dolores laughed.

Before he could open up his browser, though, a notification appeared on his screen. A text message from a contact named “Medium at Large,” in a group chat. Hey do you know driving directions to Marvins place?

Jackie made a face. Schneep leaned over to look at him. “Oh? Something happen?” He looked down at his own phone, having also received the same message in the same group chat. “Ah, I see. Jackie, you should not be so unkind to Marvin.”

“I’m not unkind to him,” Jackie growled—actually growled, a rumble deep in his throat. “I consider him a friend. I just... don’t trust the smell of his magic.” Witches, like Marvin, drew power from various sources. Dolores here was an earth witch, that group of college guys from earlier were probably star witches, that woman who smelled like ash was likely a fire witch, and so on. Plant witches, river witches, love witches, chaos witches—there were all sorts of sources for magic, and all of them smelled different to Jackie’s keen senses. He liked Marvin. He really did. But he’d never smelled another witch with a magic scent like that. Something sour, almost acidic. It was strange. And Marvin had never explained what it was.

“Mm-hmm. If you consider him a friend, you should trust that he knows what he’s doing,” Schneep said, narrowing his eyes.

“I do! I trust him. I don’t trust that magic.” Jackie sighed. “I just... hope everything is... okay with it.” He shook his head. “Anyway.” He sent a reply text to the chat. Sorry Jack. You know i dont drive.

Schneep also texted a reply. Didn’t you JUST get your license? 

Jack responded instantly. Yeah which is why I need the practice. Ill need to drive to Marvins place eventually, wont I?

Well I do not have a license at all, Schneep said. So I don’t drive. So I am no help. Look it up on your GPS.

Jackie chuckled. “How old are you? In all those ages, you haven’t learned to drive?”

“I am only forty-five!” Schneep snapped. “Don’t say I am an old man!” Despite claiming that was his age, he didn’t look much older than Jackie, who was thirty.

“That’s plenty of time to learn to drive.”

“So is thirty years!”

“Hey, I’ve gotten along enough with a bus pass,” Jackie said.

Dolores raised an eyebrow. “Might be easier to deliver food to people if you had a car, y’know.”

Jackie made a face at her.

Jack replied in the chat. Fine Ill use Maps. 

Whyre you going to marvin anyway? Jackie asked. Just a visit?

I think I found someone interesting at work today.Tell you two about it later.  I want Marvins help with something first.

Jackie raised an eyebrow. He glanced over at Schneep, who looked similarly intrigued. “It is probably a ghost, yes?” Schneep asked.

“Yeah, probably.” Jackie closed out of the texts and went back to his browser. A minute passed in silence. “Oh hey, apparently a group of bats is called a colony.”

Schneep burst into laughter.

The next few hours passed with idle chatter and more drinks. The Harvest Moon gradually filled up with people, and some more workers arrived to help with the nighttime rush. But true to his word, Jackie left before midnight... mostly because Schneep dragged him out, insisting that he had enough drinks for the night.

The two of them walked down the street towards the nearest bus stop. In most cities, the buses didn’t run this late at night. But Scuabyrg was different, with such a high population of... those who were awake in the darkness. There were enough everydays who knew about them to keep things running normally.

“No no no, III’m good t’walk, I can do it on m’own!” Jackie said, leaning heavily on Schneep. 

“Alright. Go on and do it, then.” Schneep stopped walking, pushing him off a bit.

Jackie took a few stumbling steps forward... and then stopped. “I think... I was wrong.”

Schneep grinned. “At least you’re sober enough to be aware of it.”

Jackie snorted and rolled his eyes. “You an’ yourrrr... vamp tolerance. Why don’ you guys get... get it easily? Y’know.”

“It can’t pass the blood barrier,” Schneep said, his face totally straight.

Jackie laughed. “Blood barrier, that’s funny.”

“No, I am being serious. Well, partly. We cannot digest or absorb most things easily, and that includes alcohol and other drugs...”

Jackie tuned out the scientific explanation that Schneep went on. Not intentionally. He just got distracted, thinking about how different Schneep looked after some drinks. His skin was more flushed, its gray tint basically gone. And his personal scent was overwhelmed by the smell of blood. Jackie inhaled, trying to smell that oceany scent...

And picked up on something else instead.

Jackie stiffened, trying to concentrate through the drinks clouding his thoughts. Where was that smell coming from? And what was it? It was... a being, of some kind. He could tell that much. Whoever it was, they smelled almost overwhelmingly of some chemical scent—like formaldehyde. That stuff that was used to preserve dead bodies. Jackie wrinkled his nose in disgust, looking around for the source of the scent... 

And then he looked up. And saw a figure crouched on the top of a lamp post. They tensed the moment he noticed them, and then lunged.

“Schneep!” Jackie shoved him to the side, just in time to avoid the figure. Schneep yelped in surprise, and Jackie whirled on the figure, who was moving so fast. He jumped at them and halfway through the jump, he shifted. In between one blink and the next, Jackie was no longer a human, but instead a giant wolf, his thick fur colored varying shades of brown. His teeth snapped at the figure, and probably would have bitten them—but the drinks still affected him in wolf form, and his sharp reactions were a bit too slow.

The figure tackled Schneep to the ground. He cried out, and reacted instinctively, biting onto the figure’s arm. The figure pulled back, leaving the light from the lamp post behind, and—and disappeared.

Jackie stared at the spot where they’d been in shock. Then he turned to Schneep. He whined, nudging him with his snout.

“I am alright, Jackie,” Schneep said, sitting up. Some blood coated his lips, and his fangs were now visible, elongated canines on the top and bottom row of his teeth.

Jackie tilted his head, ears twitching.

“I promise I am fine.” Schneep got to his feet, patting himself down... then froze. “Son of a bitch! That motherfucker stole my wallet!”

Jackie let out a series of barks that sounded similar to laughter.

“Hey, I had about fifty pounds in there, this is not funny!” Schneep said.

Jackie rolled his eyes, a human expression that looked so strange on his wolf form’s face. Who carried cash these days?

“Oh shut up,” Schneep said. He sighed. “At least we know something.” He wiped his mouth on his black coat sleeve. “That was probably another vampire who attacked me. One with a distinct bloodtaste. So, that means I will have to report petty theft to the Night Council. Great.”

Well. That was surprising. But it was getting closer and closer to midnight. Jackie continued walking to the bus stop.

“Change back, Jackie, even the night buses will balk at a giant wolf,” Schneep said.

Jackie shook his head. It was easier to walk on four legs when drunk than two.

“Jackie,” Schneep said in a warning voice.

Jackie broke into a loping run.

“Get back here!” Schneep shouted, running after him. “I am not going down as the man who got on the bus with a giant wolf!”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was a slow night at the shop so far, just like most nights. Which was good. Marvin owned and ran Magnificent Magics by himself, if things got too busy here he’d have to hire more people, and that wasn’t in his nature. He knew where all his wares were, and had an exact way of organizing things that an employee might not follow. Though he did sometimes consider hiring someone to take care of the cats that showed up...

“Higgins, no.” Marvin picked up one of the cats in question, who was staring at a second cat with his tail flicking wildly. “Leave Fluffington alone.” Even though there were about five to eight cats in the shop at any point in time, he only actually owned two of them. Higgins was one, a round white cat with gray patches on his coat. The other was Sam, a black-and-orange tortoiseshell with big green eyes. She was upstairs right now, and not bothering the other cats. Marvin was not sure why so many cats showed up here. But he was happy to take care of them whenever they stopped by.

Sometimes he thought his shop was more like a cat cafe than an actual shop. But in reality, the only cat decorations were the trees in the corner of the rooms. The rest of the shop was a combination of a bookstore and a witch’s hut. Bookcases lined the walls, filled with all sorts of books. Paper cover, hard cover, leather cover. Various trinkets also sat on the shelves. Candles and crystals and bottles and incense and more. More things hung from the ceiling, mostly bundles of plants. There was a counter at the back of the room with more of these trinkets, and a cash register for purchases. Two doors sat in the wall behind the counter, one leading upstairs to Marvin’s apartment, the other leading to a bathroom/cat caretaking room. The main body of the shop was filled with small round tables, all covered with silky tablecloths in various jewel tones. Some of them had more books or trinkets, but some were empty, meant for the customers to sit at.

“Here you go.” Marvin sat Higgins down on the nearest chair, bending down to drop him on the cushion. Higgins started batting at Marvin’s hair that dangled around his face, and Marvin jerked backwards. “Come on, Higgins.” He pushed his hair back. “It’s not even that long.” The cats were the reason he kept his hair shorter than usual, and done in a half-up style. To minimize cats messing with it while still looking stylish.

As Marvin dealt with Higgins, another cat, Draco, hopped onto a table, climbed onto a stack of books, and used it as a springboard to jump to a bookshelf. The book stack toppled under the force of the jump.

“Hey!” Marvin whirled around, taking Draco off the shelves. “I know you like to be tall, but you have to be careful getting up there.” He put him on the floor, then gathered up the books that Draco knocked over.

As he restacked the books, he heard the shop door open behind him. “One moment!” he called, finishing up the stack before he turned around. He grinned. “How can I help you?”

The man who walked in was unfamiliar to Marvin. A new customer, how fun. He wore a fancier outfit: a white button-up shirt with frilly cuffs, over which was a blue vest with faint, darker blue patterns. There was a neat bow-tie around his neck, holding up a high collar. His dark brown hair was neat and straight, and he had a dark mustache that curled at the end. Blue eyes looked around the shop with curiosity. As Marvin observed this man, he noticed the gray tint to his skin. A vamp, for sure. Maybe one of the older ones, judging by the style he dressed in. 

After a moment of awkward silence, the man walked up to Marvin. He reached into his pocket and took out a small spiral notebook with a pattern of stars on the cover, as well as a pen. He wrote something down and showed it to Marvin. Hello. My apologies, but I am unable to speak. Can you tell me more about this shop?

“Oh! Alright.” Marvin nodded. He raised his hands and started to gesture: speaking in British Sign Language. Can you understand this? Do you want to speak this way?

The man looked surprised, then laughed silently. He set the notebook and pen down on the nearest table, and began to sign with a bit more flourish than Marvin did. I can hear you fine, you do not need to sign as well. But thank you for asking.

“No problem.” Marvin flashed a smile. “Ayway, uh, yeah, I can tell you about the shop. This is my place. We sell all sorts of magical supplies. Mostly stuff that’s useful for witches, I’m not sure if there’s much a vampire would find of use. Oh! But I do sell blood remover and potions.”

The man nodded. He wandered around the edge of the shop. Some of the cats walked up to sniff at him. He looked down at them and smiled a friendly, closed-lip smile. Most of them hissed and ran off, but Higgins kept sniffing him.

“Sorry, most of them aren’t vamp-trained,” Marvin said. “And, uh, Higgins isn’t for sale.”

They’re for sale? the man asked, interested.

“Only as pets,” Marvin said firmly. “I don’t do blood here.”

The man looked horrified at the implication.

“Oh, you’re offended! Good.” Marvin laughed. Vampires were tricky to deal with, morally, given their diet. “So you’re a blood bank person? Not an animal person?”

The man nodded. When possible. You know how it is.

“Hmm. I probably don’t. I haven’t lived like you have.”

I see. Well, sometimes there is... desperation, the man said. But I try to avoid that.

Marvin nodded slowly. 

May I have your name, sir? The man asked.

“I’m Marvin. Marvin Fletcher. I’m the owner.” Marvin gestured to himself. He was wearing one of his favorite outfits today. An open button-up short-sleeved shirt with an art nouveau flower design on it. Underneath was a sleeveless black turtleneck. He hoped that this was making a good impression on the new customer. “And you?”

The man picked up the notebook and pen again, writing down his name and showing it to Marvin. Jameson Jackson. Some people call me JJ.

“Alliteration! Nice.” Marvin grinned. “Let me know if you need anything, Mr. Jameson Jackson.”

Jameson nodded. He continued to look around the shop, taking an interest in some of the books. Marvin took care to have a lot of variety for purchase. A lot of them were spellbooks for witches, but there were also studies on magical creatures, histories of the shadow world, and some popular fictional stories set in the shadow world, just for fun. Jameson flipped through some of the books, reading the first couple pages or the blurb on the cover before putting them back.

The shop door soon opened again. “Marvin!” A man walked into the shop, wearing a black T-shirt and jacket. “I have something I—”

Jameson suddenly dropped the book he was looking at, staring at the newcomer in... what can only be described as surprise and fear.

“Hey, Jack,” Marvin said, then looked at Jameson. “Don’t worry about him. This is Jack, he’s a meddie, and a friend of mine.”

“Uh... hi,” Jack said slowly, looking at Jameson. “Didn’t mean to freak you out.”

Jameson shook his head. He bent down and picked up the book he dropped, returning it to its place on the shelf. It’s alright, he said.

“Oh, BSL, huh? I’m not as fluent as Marv is, sorry.”

“He just said it’s alright,” Marvin translated.

“Yeah, I got that.”

“Well, anyway.” Marvin decided to move on. “What brings you to my shop now? I know this is regular hours for me, but it’s starting to get late for you.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “It’s only nine o’clock. I would’ve been here sooner, but I took some wrong turns.”

“Wait... did you drive here?” Marvin blinked. “I thought you still only had a permit.”

“Nope! I got my license on Tuesday, remember?” Jack beamed proudly.

“Ah. A whole three days ago. Good. Good good good.” Marvin nodded slowly. “Well, uh... what’s so important that you had to drive here?”

Jack walked over to a table at the back, talking as he went. “I had work today. Apparently there was a death down on Gold Sky Street, so you know, of course, I have to check it out.” He pulled out a chair and sat down. “Kind of a sad scene. The guy who lived there had probably been gone for a while, Jenkins estimates at least twelve hours, and nobody had realized he was gone until a solicitor came trying to sell stuff and saw the body through the window.”

“God,” Marvin muttered. He noticed Jameson listening in with curiosity, though Jameson was clearly trying to hide it. “So was his ghost there?”

“Yep.” Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out a cloudy glass sphere about the size of a golf ball. “And he was a pretty strong ghost. Full-body apparition without even trying. Knew right away he was gone and, uh, freaked out about it. Generally acted really alive.” He set the sphere on the table. “I did the touch test with him, too, and he got it right away.”

“Really?” Marvin tilted his head, curious. Jack had talked with him about the ghosts he sometimes encountered on his job before. Enough for Marvin to know that this was a very rare occurrence.

“Yeah, and something else weird. The guy didn’t remember his death.”

“And that’s... Why is that weird?”

“Even weaker ghosts know their death,” Jack said. “Even if they die in their sleep or die when somehow drugged. They instinctively know the details. This guy—oh, his name is Chase, by the way—didn’t know who killed him. Most murdered ghosts know that.”

Jameson started in surprise. You were at a murder scene?!

Marvin laughed. “Yeah, Jameson. Jack works for the forensics, he gets called out to murder scenes all the time.”

“Well, uh, the detectives don’t think this was a murder scene,” Jack said slowly. “They think that Chase got super drunk and uh...” He made a finger gun and pointed it at the side of his head.

“Oh god,” Marvin whispered.

“But Chase is insisting he didn’t do that,” Jack said. “And if he really did get blackout drunk and do that, he would know that’s what happened. But he doesn’t know anything else, either. So maybe he did and something is fucking with his memory? I don’t know.” He tapped the glass sphere. “But that’s where I wanted your help, Marvin.”

“You got some of his essence in the sensor?” Marvin asked.

“Mm-hmm. Can you tell me if there was... anything magical about his death?”

“On it.” Marvin walked around the counter at the back of the shop, picking up something he’d left behind there. A white mask shaped like a cat’s face, with some markings on it. The four card suits—heart, club, diamond, spade—were drawn on the forehead in black, while the ears of the mask were filled in with green and there was a black nose and six curvy green whiskers. When he tilted it in the light, it seemed to shimmer with more green markings, but they were hard to read. He walked back over to where Jack was sitting and sat down at a chair across from him.

Should I leave for this? Jameson asked, looking a bit nervous.

“No, don’t worry, it’s not like this is a secret spell or anything,” Marvin laughed. He put the mask on his face, adjusting it so it was comfortable. “You could watch, even—if you’re okay with that, Jack.”

“Yeah, why not?” Jack shrugged.

“Great! That’s be fifty pounds to observe, then.”

Jameson made a choking sound. Are you serious?!

“Absolutely not.” Marvin grinned.

Jameson stared—and then laughed. It was a strange, wheezing sound, clearly genuine but with no voice behind it. You’re a right funny man, aren’t you?

“I can be.” Marvin stretched his arms, wiggling his fingers and loosening up for magic. His short sleeves left his forearms and hands bare, showing off the tattoos he had. Celtic knot-like designs wrapped around his arms, like he was wearing four bracelets on each arm, from elbow to wrist. On the back of each hand was a unique design: a spell circle on his left, and an eye design surrounded by swirls on his right. Green light flickered over all the visible tattoos, like oil on water, and then the eye design on his right hand began to glow a solid green. He concentrated, passing his right hand over the sensor.

Can I ask what this is? Jameson asked, not bothering to hide his curiosity.

“This glass ball? It’s a sensor,” Jack said. “If there’s a ghost in an area, you feel it get unnaturally cold. And if a ghost directly touches it, it absorbs some of their essence. Not enough to cause any trouble for the ghost, of course.”

While he talked, Marvin muttered the appropriate spell words under his voice. His eyes flared green as well, bright as the glow coming from his tattoo. His vision blurred for a moment, and then cleared up. He could see lights in the cloudy glass of the sensor now. Most of them were faint, barely there, really. Leftover essence from other ghosts that Jack has used the sensor on. But most of the sensor was taken up by a bright yellow-green light. “Whoa.” Marvin blinked, leaning backwards.

“What is it?” Jack asked.

“There’s definitely some magic involved with this,” Marvin said. “This ghost’s essence is strong, alright. And there’s something different about it... What did you say his name was? Chase?”

“Yep. Chase Brody.”

“Was he an everyday or something else?”

“Uhhh... far as I could tell. I mean, if you’re not an everyday, you’re less likely to be surprised when you die and become a ghost,” Jack figured.

“You wouldn’t be surprised,” Marvin pointed out.

“Well I’m special. Can you tell what’s different about his essence?”

“Hmm...” Marvin frowned. “Judging by the color... maybe there’s some necromancy, of some kind? The shade is a bit off. You don’t normally get an in-between color like this. It kind of looks sickly, which is why it might be death magic...”

Jameson looked at Marvin. So... you’re a death witch? he asked.

“Huh? Oh, nope.” Marvin looked up at him and grinned. “You don’t need to be a death witch to do this spell, to look at ghost essence. You don’t even need to be a death witch to do necromancy, but it makes it much easier.” He turned his attention back to the sensor. “Hmm... I... don’t know the specifics of this magic, though. There’s not enough of a sample for me to figure it out.”

“Well that makes sense,” Jack said. “It was only in contact with him for like, three seconds total at most.”

“Really? And it left such a strong imprint?” Marvin looked at the sensor again in a new light. “You weren’t kidding about him being a strong ghost. Hmm...” He bit the inside of his cheek, thinking. “I don’t know what’s going on with this guy, but I’m sure that some sort of magic has fucked with him in some way.”

Jack nodded. “Weird. Do you... think we’ll need to report it to the Night Council?”

“I dunno. Depends on what spell it is, and if it was done with consent.”

Jack frowned. “Well Chase doesn’t remember what happened, so I doubt he wanted this to happen. Otherwise he would’ve made sure he remembered after he fucking died. But that’s not exactly proof, is it?” He went quiet for a moment. “I think... I need to help him.”

“You help a lot of ghosts, Jack,” Marvin pointed out.

“No, I mean... more than I usually do. The guy’s lost. He says he really cares about his family, but he lived alone, and his house, uh... wasn’t in the best condition. Not to mention this weird magic you just found.” Jack paused. “I want to see what I can do.”

Marvin nodded. “Alright. Well, let me know if there’s anything else I can do. Be happy to help.” He pushed his mask back onto his forehead.

A cat jumped up onto the table and sniffed the sensor for a moment before slowly reaching out with a paw—

“Luna, no.” Marvin grabbed her, pulling her back into his lap.

Jack laughed. “That’s a new one.”

“Want her?” Marvin held up the black cat. “I’m calling her Luna Void but you can change that if you want.”

“Nah, my apartment doesn’t allow pets.” Jack paused. “Though I was wondering about getting a new place.”

“Hmm. Fair.” Marvin looked over at Jameson, who was standing idly nearby. “Want a cat? I know I said they weren’t vamp-trained earlier, but I could put in the effort.”

Jameson smiled softly. No thanks. My roommate probably won’t take kindly to an animal.

Marvin raised an eyebrow. A roommate, huh? “Well good to know.” He put Luna Void down on the floor again. “A question for you, by the way, Jameson Jackson. Are you new in town or what?”

I’m fairly new, yes, Jameson said. Only been here for about a week. I’m getting to know the layout of the city. How did you know that?

“Between me and Jack we know a lot of those who walk in the shadows in Scuabyrg. So you were either really reclusive, or you just arrived.”

Jameson laughed silently. Clever.

Jack stood up. “Well, uh, I’m gonna head home now, Marvin. Nice to meet you, Jameson. If you ever need help with stuff, you can reach out to me. Uh, hang on. I have cards for this.” He tapped his pockets, then pulled out a card and passed it over. “My phone number’s on that. Do you have a phone?”

Jameson reached into his pocket and pulled out... a phone that looked like it was from the early 2000s. The kind that slid open to form a keyboard. Marvin held back a laugh.

“Yeah, that will work,” Jack said. “Anyway, I can help with a lot of different stuff. Other everydays tend to listen to me, and I can help with ghost stuff of course, and anything else you might need my meddie powers for.”

Thank you, Jameson said, and gave another close-lipped smile.

“You can stop by here anytime, too,” Marvin said. “As long as you’re not a dick about stuff, but you seem chill enough. I can do spells and card readings for a price, but I don’t do the French or Thoth arcana, only traditional cards and crystaleye.”

I’ll keep that in mind. Lovely to meet you. Jameson tilted his head. I think I’ll leave for the night but maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.

“See you!” Marvin waved, and Jameson headed out. “Bye, Jack!”

“Goodbye!” Jack also waved as he left.

The shop was empty again. Well... except for the cats. Marvin had barely a quiet moment before he saw two of them bolt across the floor, the smaller one jumping on the bigger one. “Bee, Ragamuffin, no!” he shouted, getting up. “Not by those shelves, you’ll break stuff!”

A few more customers dropped in as the night wore on, but there wasn’t much notable. Marvin closed the shop at one am, as he always did, then headed upstairs to relax a little before going to bed.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Scuabyrg seemed like a lovely city so far. Its name was a bit peculiar—he didn’t realize it was pronounced ‘skya-berg’ until tonight—but Jameson had heard stranger names in his long life. He’d spent the past couple nights exploring the area, getting to know the shadowy haunts before returning to the place they were staying in the early hours of the morning.

Tonight, it was about four thirty when he made his way back. Their “home” was one of many identical townhouses on Steward Street, an area in the northwest of the city that was very old. They dated back before the days when England had a window tax: the more windows a building had, the more property tax the owners had to pay. So many people bricked up their windows to avoid paying what they couldn’t afford. It wasn’t a pleasant place to live for most people, but Jameson wasn’t ‘most people.’

JJ walked up to a three-story brown brick house with two metal letters on the side designating it number 77. The window frames persisted, but they were filled not with glass, but with identical brown bricks. Jameson reached into his pockets and pulled out a set of brass keys, unlocking the door and heading inside.

It was dark, but JJ was used to seeing in the dark. Even so, he turned on the lights for comfort. The furniture in the living room was old, with peeling upholstery and worn wood. In the corner was a small kitchenette with stained appliances. The stove was covered with dust, but the fridge was good as new. He made a detour to grab something from it, then headed up the stairs.

As he passed by the second story landing—

“Think fast, bitch!”

There was a blur of motion in the corner of his vision. Only the warning shout kept him from being smacked in the head, as even his supernaturally fast reflexes barely gave him time to duck. The small item hit the wall then fell to the ground. A voice laughed. “Oh shit, JJ, you did it! Wasn’t expecting that!”

JJ looked over at the laughter. Standing in an open doorway was a man with wild brown hair and grayish skin, his wide eyes blue with a ring of green around the middle of the pupil. He was wearing one of his favorite outfits: an overly large black leather jacket, a black tank top with the words “Bite Me” written on it in red, black jeans held up by a belt with a silvery buckle, and tall black boots with inch-thick soles. He leaned against the doorframe, grinning wildly to show off his fangs. JJ froze for a moment, then forced himself to relax. Hello, Anti, he said in sign language.

“Aw, you seem so sad to see me!” Anti’s grin widened. “Were you worried I would leave you?”

No. No, he definitely wasn’t worried about that. Where have you been? JJ asked calmly. For the past three nights, Anti hadn’t come back to the townhouse at sunrise. He would think that Anti had been caught in the sunlight, but he knew better to think that Anti would be so foolish. He was probably getting to know the city his own way. And honestly, Jameson had enjoyed the nights without him.

“None of your fucking business, JJ!” Anti laughed. “Hey, look at that.” He pointed at the thing that he threw at JJ’s head. 

Jameson looked down at it, then slowly bent over to pick it up again without fully turning away from Anti. It was a dark brown leather wallet.

“Got that from some vamp fucker earlier tonight. He had fifty pounds in there!” Anti was suddenly holding a handful of bills, pinching them between two fingers. Then, just as quickly, he put them back in his pocket. “Fucking moron. We should go out to eat soon.”

JJ raised an eyebrow. Then he looked down at the wallet, examining it for anything else. There was a debit card in there—Anti didn’t like those, said they were too traceable—and some other card. He took that out. This was some sort of work ID, for a place called St. Damian’s Hospital. The blurry picture on the ID showed a man with brown hair and glasses, and the name identified the person as Dr. Henrik von Schneeplestein, of the Haematology Department. So that’s who the wallet belonged to.

“What? Wanna keep it?” Anti asked. “Go for it. Fucking useless things, anyway.” He shrugged. “Anyway. What’ve you been up to?”

Exploring the city, JJ said.

“Find anything fun?”

Not your type of fun.

Anti narrowed his eyes. “Oh? What’s that supposed to mean?”

JJ looked at him. You know we don’t enjoy the same activities.

“And what’re you implying?” When JJ didn’t say anything, Anti growled. “Fine. Shut up, then.” His eyes momentarily shifted color, his irises becoming bright red. “It’s getting early, go to bed. See if I fucking care.”

Jameson felt his muscles tense. Without another world, he turned and continued up the stairs to the third floor.

Even though this was the nicest story out of all of the floors in the run-down old townhouse, Anti had elected to claim the second floor instead—the story with a hole in the wooden floor, a smaller bedroom, and water-damaged walls. Jameson hadn’t said anything about it, just in case that would prompt Anti to say something like “hmm, that’s a good point, I do deserve the best floor!” and kick him out.

The third floor had a central living area, with soft sofas and sheer white curtains framing the bricked-up windows. There was no central lighting, but Anti had ‘acquired’ some lamps when Jameson commented on how they should have them, if just for show if nothing else. There was a nice desk tucked away in the corner, with tall dark wood bookshelves on either side. Jameson hadn’t yet been able to fill them with any trinkets or books, but maybe he could pick up some from that shop he found earlier in the night. Maybe he’d be able to actually hang onto the books this time, instead of being forced to leave them behind when they moved.

The one room on the third floor was the bedroom. He headed straight there, despite not being all that tired, opening up the door and ducking inside. There wasn’t much in here, just an old claw-footed dresser, a four-poster bed in the center, and a standing mirror. A mirror that must have had a silver backing, because Jameson wasn’t able to see his reflection in it.

He changed out of his outfit and into a set of matching pajamas—one of the few things he’d been able to grab when Anti suddenly decided to move them from their last city. Then he climbed into bed. The blue comforter had not been taken with them from the last city. It had also been ‘acquired’ by Anti, along with some pillows. Jameson had no idea why Anti listened to his requests for things to put in their house. Not when he didn’t listen to anything else Jameson asked. But he was going to take what he could get, and not question it.

Jameson stared up at the ceiling, eyes tracing the pattern of stains on the old plaster. He wasn’t tired yet. But the sun would be rising soon. So he might as well try.

He could hear Anti walking around on the floor below, doing who-knows-what. But he tried to put him out of his mind. He tried to think about other things. Like... like that little shop he’d stumbled across. Magnificent Magics. He hadn’t been in a witch’s shop in a couple decades, they had changed so much. Maybe... maybe he would be able to visit again some other time. Maybe he could finally have someone else to talk to.

[endlessnightlock]

From the Random Writing Prompts, 59 please!

"H-how long have you been standing there?"

The third part of this series:

You've never even touched yourself?

Are you trying to turn me on, or are you really that oblivious?

From 150 Random Writing Prompts

Katniss checked the time on her phone for a second time, too distracted to register what it said the first time she got it out. 4p.m. She stuffed her phone inside her back pocket and sighed.

She shouldn't have left the house in such a hurry. Peeta wasn't due to meet her here for another ten minutes, so she was in limbo outside the movie theater, avoiding eye contact from Haymitch Abernathy, maintaining his post at the ticket window. He tended to glare at loiterers. All was forgiven once you had your tickets in hand.

She had to get out of the house, though. Their mom was at work, and she wasn't ready to face Prim alone. Her little sister already knew something was afoot after coming within seconds of catching Katniss and Peeta making out in her bedroom. Ever since finding them both red-faced---and Peeta strategically covering his lap with a spare pillow---Prim's been eyeballing her in a way that scared her a little. Katniss had enough on her plate. She'd deal with her later.

She thought of going to the dollar store across the street to grab some candy for the movie, but her bag was at home, and those boxes were hard to hide if you weren't wearing a sweatshirt or something bulky. Everyone in town knew the movie theater struggled to stay open, and she'd feel like a real asshole if she strolled past Haymitch with an obvious box of Reece's Pieces poking out of her pocket. Plus, she wasn't hungry. The only thing she actually was was nervous. She scuffed her foot along the ground. It wasn't like her to fidget

She was ready to pull her phone out to check the time again when she caught a glimpse of him coming up the street from the city lot, where he must've parked his car. When he caught her eye, her hand shot up in a wave.

"Hey, how long have you been standing here?" Peeta asked, reaching her side.

"Not long," she said

"I should have picked you up," he said as they headed towards the theater.

"Nah. It's nice out. You know I like to walk."

Peeta ran a hand through his hair when they stood at the ticket window. He stepped up first, and Katniss was still reaching in her pocket for the twenty she'd grabbed when he asked Haymitch for two tickets for the movie, quickly shoving his debit card through the opening at the bottom of the plexiglass window.

Haymitch studied the two of them behind the curtain of shaggy grey hair always hanging in his eyes before taking the card and swiping it through the ancient card reader. The machine beeped two or three times before slowly printing out a receipt. Katniss found herself fidgeting again. She felt like something was going on that she couldn't quite grasp. Finally, Haymitch slid the card and the yellow copy of the receipt back out. "Enjoy the show."

"You didn't have to pay; I brought money," Katniss said as they walked away from the counter.

"I wanted to. Do you want any snacks?"

"I'm alright."

"Awe, come on. I know you want some popcorn, at least," Peeta said. He placed a hand at the base of her spine to herd her in that direction. Warmth flooded through her body. Her thoughts immediately went to the other day and the way his hands felt on her hips before flipping them over on her bed.

They were standing at the concession stand when a thought came to her. "Is this a date?" she blurted out while the worker behind the counter squirted butter on their large popcorn.

Peeta started laughing, and the concession girl paused mid-squirt to look at them. He still hadn't gotten himself under control when she handed him the bag, letting kernels tumble out on the countertop. Katniss snatched the box of Reece's Pieces he bought her, embarrassed. It wasn't a dumb question.

"Let's talk when we get inside. They always show like half an hour of previews anyway," he said.

Katniss held her tongue until they were settled in the back row (weird because they usually sat mid-theater) against the wall. The theater wasn't packed or anything, not unusual on a Tuesday afternoon, so they had the back to themselves.

"So?" she asked.

Peeta smiled. "I don't know. Do you want this to be a date?"

Katniss frowned at him. "Why are you putting this on me?"

"I don't know. I'd just like to hear you say what you want."

"You didn't ask me on a date," she stared down at the box of candy in her hands. "I guess I just want to know what this is."

Peeta fixed his eyes on her. He leaned in close. When she looked up he put his finger under her chin and tilted it up. He kissed her. She sucked in a breath before drawing him in deeper.

He never did answer her, but the popcorn got cold, and the Reece's Pieces went uneaten. She couldn't remember a thing about the movie after. And she definitely wasn't ready to face her sister. Peeta was just too damn distracting.

[goldenblu]

hold your fire (by the throat) - chapter 6

One Piece | Zosan | Post-Wano AU where Sanji slowly loses his emotions

Chapter 6: a word you’ve never heard

Beside him, Sanji taps his cigarette against the wood, ash crumbling and falling into the roiling seafoam below. Jinbe tries to guess what exactly he’s thinking but is ultimately unsuccessful. In a jarring sort of contradiction, despite how Sanji seems to wear his heart on his sleeve, he can also be an extremely hard man to read.

Preview:

Although they leave Quarry Island behind them the next morning, it lingers in Jinbe’s mind. In everyone’s minds, really. It’s apparent enough that they’re all worried for Sanji. Chopper spends all his time working on a cure, Robin watches from a distance with concern, and Usopp even eats his mushrooms without complaint. Sanji himself tries hard to pretend like everything’s fine, but he can’t hide the occasional moments where something changes and he acts just a touch colder than usual, his smile lacking its typical warmth.

The next two days pass by in this fashion. On the third day, when Jinbe goes out onto the covered deck behind the aquarium, he finds Sanji glaring at the ashtray like it’s personally offended him.

“Sanji,” Jinbe ventures, stepping closer. Sanji twitches under his scrutinizing gaze. “Is everything okay?”

“Don’t be stupid, what do you think?” Sanji snaps, an edge of a growl in his voice. Then he reins in his temper, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. The end of his cigarette glows brighter, then dims. “What are you doing here?”

To be honest, Jinbe had been looking for a bit of peace and quiet away from the antics of the rest of the crew. Not that he has anything against it or anything, it’s just not quite the environment he’s used to yet. Then he’d seen Sanji through the portholes of the aquarium bar, smoking his way through a pack of cigarettes, looking contemplative and morose and so, so alone.

Jinbe had felt compelled to join him out here and perhaps extend a listening ear if welcomed, even despite the fact that he’s now feeling a little out of his depth. He still hasn’t fully grasped the dynamics of the crew, unsure of how he integrates into this odd tapestry of mismatched yet extraordinary threads. Someone else would be better for this, someone more familiar with the twists and turns of Sanji’s moods. But it’s just Jinbe here, and well, he has to start somewhere, doesn’t he?

“It’s quiet here,” is what he settles on.

“Yeah.” Sanji throws an indecipherable glance at him, leaning against the wooden rail. “It is. Guess that’s also why I’m here.”

Jinbe attempts to figure out if that’s an unsubtle hint for him to shut up and leave Sanji be. It must show on his face, because Sanji takes one look and smirks briefly. “Stop looking so awkward, I’m not going to kick you out. This is your ship now, too.”

That’s—that’s not quite the response Jinbe was expecting. “Ah. I appreciate it. The others can be overwhelming sometimes, so this is a nice spot to get away from it all for a second.”

Sanji nods and blows out a puff of smoke. He stares at the ocean, that singular lock of black hair stark against the blond of his bangs. Jinbe wonders what he’s looking at—the orange cast to the water from the setting sun, the white crests of the rolling waves, perhaps the sunlight shining through sea spray to form little prisms of color?

“Would you like to know something interesting?” Jinbe asks. “A bit of Fishman philosophy.”

Sanji hums noncommittally and Jinbe takes that as a sign to continue. “Most people believe that water has no memory. They think that because water flows and reforms, always in flux, it cannot hold a shape permanently.”

“But…?”

Distantly, Jinbe hears a loud crash, followed by Luffy’s high-pitched laughing. As secluded as they are, the sound is muted and half-covered by the sound of waves crashing and breaking against the ship.

“At Fishman Island, we have a saying. Every wave leaves a mark, a memory. The surface of the ocean is constantly shifting, constantly changing. The tides, the currents—all of it. But even when a wave rises, falls, and is then returned back into the vastness of the ocean, the water persists. It remembers. It carries with it the experience of its journey, the imprint of its essence, even if it can no longer take that form.”

“Huh.” Sanji flips his cigarette through his fingers, heedless of the risk of burns. “I’ve heard something like that before.”

(continue on AO3)