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shimmershaewrites · 7 years ago

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Waltzing's for Dreamers, Chapter 4 (a Walking Dead story, Caryl AU).

Title: Waltzing's for Dreamers

Rating: Hmm. Maybe PG-13?

Warnings: Adult language.

Characters/Pairings: Daryl Dixon, Dwight, Axel, Oscar, Big Tiny, mention of the Morales family, mention of Sherry, Merle Dixon, mention of Carol Peletier and Sophia Peletier, and a couple of other little Easter eggs for those of you paying attention, lol.

Don't mind me. Just having some fun remixing these characters.

Sorry about the delay in posting this chapter. Work kicked my ass and took some names this week and it took me all day yesterday to pull said ass out of my all-consuming exhaustion. Hence, I'm posting today instead of yesterday when I really wanted to.

Anyway. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Off to work on the next one. Fingers crossed I get it finished in time to post later tonight.

Waltzing’s for Dreamers

More than six years after Vegas. Early Summer.

“90 degrees in the fuckin’ shade out there,” Dwight mumbles around his nub of a cigarette.

Beneath the hood of the Morales’ Suzuki, Daryl inwardly sneers. I’ll match the sweat rings around your scrawny neck and raise you a couple of stank-ass armpit rings, Asshole. The words never leave his lips, though. All he gifts the sonofabitch with is a noncommittal grunt. In the interest of keeping things civil, of course. Axel’s okay by him, handed over the keys to this Bakersfield shithole like it weren’t nothing and gave him and Merle a chance to start over when they’d up and moved themselves clear across the country trying to outrun the demons of both their pasts. The man’s harmless, not much left knocking around in his pharmaceutical soaked brain, but his piece of shit cousin is another story altogether, and it’s really too bad they have to keep pretending to coexist peacefully because Daryl can’t really put his finger on it but something about the guy makes his skin crawl. Oscar’s too, apparently.

“Man, put your shirt back on. You lookin’ like some starved feral ass cat.”

Big Tiny stops swaying with the oscillating fan in the corner of garage only long enough to snicker an agreement. “Oscar ain’t wrong.”

“Probably is,” Axel puts in his two cents, his handlebar mustache twitching with each word. “Starved,” he elaborates, as if anybody had any lingering doubts. “Sherry don’t like to cook. Can’t say as I blame her considerin’ she only sees daylight from the inside of that diner. Poor woman,” he shakes his head. “Works her pretty little fingers to the bone.”

“Might be you should take some pointers from her,” Oscar suggests dryly. “That wagon ain’t gonna up and fix itself and the way I remember it, those two flower children be thinking they’re getting it back first thing tomorrow.”

“Might be,” Dwight spits as he jerks his arms back through his dingy, oil stained shirt, “you can mind your own goddamn business for once.” He skulks back to his designated corner of the shop, grumbling beneath his breath with every step.

“What bug done crawled right up his skinny ass?”

The question is drawled right into his ear, and Daryl nearly jumps out of his skin. Swears and rubs at the bump he can already feel forming on the back of his head. Slams the hood of the Suzuki shut and scowls at his brother, who brandishes a popsicle in his hand like it’s some kind of sword. Or a peace offering of sorts. “What the hell?” Daryl growls, snatching the damn thing and ripping the wrapper impatiently. “How ‘bout a fuckin’ warning next time?”

“Used to be, you didn’t need no warning,” Merle pointedly reminds him, sucking his own orange popsicle back between his lips as only he could, in a manner bordering on the obscene.

“Got any more of those?” Big Tiny asks longingly.

“Why?” Merle leers with a wink. “Ole Merle makin’ you hot?”

Flustered, Big Tiny groans. “You nasty. Anybody ever tell you that?”

“See now,” Merle trots out his trademark coat hanger grin. “That’s all a matter of opinion. The ladies don’t seem to think so. In fact…”

Before he can go any further, Oscar interrupts him, “Little E on deck.”

It’s not a moment too soon, and Daryl’s grateful for the reprieve. His brother might have come a long way, kicked his own drug habit and put his life in some sort of order. All thanks to a little rude awakening and the kid that’s joined them, bearing a whole box of sweating popsicles like a gift from the Man Upstairs on this sweltering summer day. But the one thing he ain’t cleaned up is his mouth, especially when it comes to women and his supposed prowess with them. And he’s far from the only one in this establishment could grow weeds out of his mouth with as filthy as it is, Daryl’s own included. He gives Oscar a subtle nod of gratitude and leans against the Samurai’s bumper, takes in the scene with an air of wistfulness he couldn’t shake if he wanted to, and damn. Does he want to.

Big Tiny relinquishes his primo spot in front of the fan to lumber over to arguably one of his favorite people—and not just at the moment. “Got one of those for me, Angel-face?”

“Grape?”

“There any other kind?”

Daryl smirks. Watching when his niece presents the big man with his preferred flavor popsicle and he bows clumsily at the waist in thanks, getting himself a coat hanger grin in response that’s undeniably reminiscent of the one his brother wears much more often these days, although the kid’s is much harder won. The irony don’t escape him. Couldn’t if it wanted to. If somebody’d told him have a dozen years ago Merle would find his happiness just as Daryl’s own life went to absolute shit, he’d have accused them of bald-face lying. That’s what he would have done. He don’t begrudge him, though, because God and the Devil both know. If circumstances were different, if he weren’t such a no-good fuck-up not worth the heartache he knows he’s done caused Carol and her little girl, well. He don’t resent his brother a moment. Not at all.

“Thank you kindly, Little Miss,” Axel charms as he receives his own popsicle. “Need me some of them there boots you’re wearing,” he says, openly admiring the black combat boots that are about the biggest things on the eleven-year-old’s ever-growing feet.

“Them’s ass kickers,” Merle crows proudly. “For my ass-kicking girl.”

Daryl huffs out a laugh and crumples up his wrapper when his brother’s version of praise earns him a sassy purple tinged tongue, tosses it in the general vicinity of the trash can.

“Still like ‘em,” Axel shrugs his skinny shoulders. “Might even go find me some.”

Oscar’s lips twitch before breaking into a grin full of shark-like teeth. “Man, you couldn’t even kick your own ass.”

“Might be you’re right,” Axel agrees amiably. “Just sayin’, though. Them’s some mighty fine boots.”

“Yes, Ma’am, they are,” Big Tiny chimes in. Holding out his mammoth paw, he bashfully bargains, “If I show you the car your uncle’s been working on, you think there might be another grape popsicle in it for me?”

“All that’s left is cherry.”

“Cherry just happens to be my second favorite,” Big Tiny tells her as his palm all but swallows up her small hand. “It’s a ’67 Impala. Like the one in that show you like so much with the brothers. He’s fixing it up for the coach at the high school. Be glad you haven’t met him, Angel-face. Man loves to hear himself talk.”

“You look at that,” Merle remarks as the unlikely pair disappear into the back of the garage, Oscar and Axel trailing not far behind them. “Girl’s got him wrapped around her little finger.”

“Ain’t the only one,” Daryl points out as he bends to retrieve the garbage that’d fallen just short of its mark and drops it into the can. “Reckon you’re going to be lost without her when her and her mama move to Jacksonville come the end of July.”

“About that, Baby Brother.”

Merle scratches absently at the prosthetic on his right arm in a gesture that makes Daryl straighten and study him with a more critical eye. “Merle.”

“I should have told you a long time ago.”

“Told me what?”

“When that girl leaves? I’m going with her. And I want you to come with me. It’s high time, Boy. High time.”

#The Walking Dead #Caryl fanfiction #Caryl #Carol x Daryl #stuff that I write #Waltzing's for Dreamers #aka What Happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas fic #Daryl Dixon #Dwight #Axel #Big Tiny #Oscar #mention of Morales family #mention of Sherry #mention of Sophia Peletier #and a couple of other Easter eggs for those paying attention

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georgiapeach30513 · 2 years ago

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Kinktober 2022 Teaser

Yes, this is a teaser, and I'm SORRY. I am trying to get on top of this. But just for funsies, what character do you think is going to have what kink? AND this year it's going to be littered with Easter eggs...well, we'll call them Jack-O-Lanterns. Let's see if you can figure it out before the 31 days are up??

I've been brainstorming with @tis-thedamn-season on these one shots for a couple of weeks, and she came up with the most genius idea, but I can't tell you 🤷🏻‍♀️ this year is going to be a blast, but if you look at some of these kinks, they will get a bit dark, so PLEASE read ALL warnings ahead of time, you're the one that's responsible for what you consume on the internet. There will be a bit of an underlying theme in each of these, just pay attention. I'll be curious to know if everyone can find some Jack-O-Lanterns. And this is going to be a bit of a way for me to kinda explore a trope I've been wanting to tackle 😏

Keep in mind, these will have more than just those kinks specifically in each of them. So there will be more fun for other things in each part! I can't wait to have fun with these yummy men! It's going to feature characters portrayed by Chris Evans, Sebastian Stan, Henry Cavill, Chris Hemsworth, Charlie Hunnam, Clayton Cardenas, Jensen Ackles, and Jared Padalecki. And with there being a total of 34 guys and only 31 days, clearly we're going to be getting more than one on a few days!

Also, I do want to do something similar for December, 25 Days of CHRIStmas...but I want it to be about the current stories I have going on. I may eventually do a poll of which couples/throuples you want to see, and it won't just be limited to series. There's a few one shots I wouldn't mind re-exploring (Frank/Piper/Fisher, Johnny Storm/Firefly, etc.) just let me know some ideas, and I'll get a poll out after Kinktober. I'm so in the mood for SPOOKY season because I saw pumpkins on the shelf 😂😂

#kinktober #kinktober 2022

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optimistic-dinosaur-nacho · 5 years ago

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Eat Sh*t, Or That

Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader

Warnings: [SPOILERS TO KNIVES OUT] Vomiting, Blood, Language, Mild Physical Abuse, Attempt Murder, Dark!Ransom, Slight Sexual Content (Men should not put his hands on another woman, this is a warning but this should not have the right for someone to put their hands on someone like this)

Summary: You and Ransom are a toxic couple, you treat him the way he treats you. You find ways to get rid of him, but either you or him keep crawling back to one another. At the end, you find the true side of him.

Author’s note: Just like I said, either way this is a warning and that this won’t stop a man from putting his hands on a woman, he should never do it in the first place. If abuse is not your taste. You may abandoned this story and never come back to it cause I care. That’s facts. By all means... Didn’t proofread it, I’m sorry if there are a few mistakes

Love you! Word count is 4800+

~~~~~~~~

Easter Day 2019

The big family was having a big Easter hunt, of course, they didn’t have much of little kids, Jacob and Meg were the younger two. Linda made it special for some of them, hiding plastic eggs either with candy or money. Jacob didn’t participate in it, he sat in the corner on his phone. Trolling his way through his expensive device, Meg was with her mother Joni throughout the whole family gathering.

Her father Neil died and so she was left with her mother. Joni was sister-in-law with Linda and Walt. Those two were the remaining children of Harlan Thrombey. Walt was the father of Jacob along with his wife, Donna. Linda was married to Richard Drysdale, then they had their son, Hugh Ransom Drysdale. A bratty playboy who managed to have a toxic relationship with Y/N L/N.

The whole family would see them come in without holding hands, usually Linda would see Y/N come in first before Ransom followed behind her, furious as ever.

Linda would have small talk with Y/N about her son. Understanding her son is a rich-cocky-dumb-sweater-asshole who can’t keep up with a relationship. He kept coming for her, he would threaten her about her job and say she will be fired.

Then there was Harlan’s nurse who comes very often to take care of him. Harlan met Y/N the first time Ransom hadn’t introduced her to him, she went up and greeted him herself. After that long conversation with Harlan and Y/N, Ransom had a heated argument about that with her after the small get together on their way back home.

Every day when they drive anywhere, everything goes downhill. Every to him becomes a problem. They at least go at it three times a day. It’s gone to the point where he threatens to hit her. Yes, he got in a few but he knew she threw it harder ones.

Dogs in the backyard will go at it when they’re screaming in another room.

And that’s what was going on today. Y/N and Ransom screaming at each other in Harlan’s office. Luckily Harlan was in the living room with his family, almost half the family was listening to their heated conversation. Jacob was tempted to record.

“I’m warning you!” Ransom shouts.

Y/N threw her arms out, her scarf flying up before falling back down at her out burst. “Don’t think I don’t know what you do when I’m not home!” She shouts.

He placed his hands on his hips and he grins, “And what’s that?”

“You’re fucking other girls! What? Am I too soft for you? Am I such a dumb baby that you don’t wanna fuck? Is that it?” She shouts, emphasizing the ‘dumb baby’ the nickname he calls her when she’s acting up like this.

His teeth grit against each other, she saw the tension in his jaw. “Believe me or not. But I’m sure I didn’t buy pink panties with cherries on them, pig!”

His eyebrows raise, “Pig?” He asked. “Yep!” She pops the ‘p’ with her hands on her hips. Her long white coat was hanging half way down her thighs. An outfit his mother Linda bought her for Christmas last year.

He laughs, his body turns the slightest before she sees his arm swing out and her head turns. The impact causes her cheek to sting. The tears never stung her eyes either, she was pissed. The first time he had hit her, she did cry. More after that, she grew familiar to his girl-like smacks.

She laughs lightly, her finger touching her lip to see if she bled from there. Nothing. Asshole. “You’re a fucking asshole, Hugh.”

“Don’t call me that,” He scrunches his face up almost in disgust. “Was Pig better?” She snapped. Ransom turns her head to her and grabs her coat, tugging her forward.

Her hands immediately shoved him off and she whacks her palm across his cheek. A loud groan came from him. Yeah. That hurt like a bitch didn’t it?

He held his hand to his cheek, glaring at her. “You’ll pay for that.”

“I’ll gladly pay it for another slap or a damn kick to that friend that hides between your damn legs like a puppy and its tail.” Ransom never budged. Y/N took this advantage and picked up her scarf that slipped off her neck. “I’m walking home. I’ll be sleeping on the couch as well. Don’t bother, asshole.” He watched her walk out the doors and she said goodbye to the family before passing the door again and left the home.

Panting heavily, his fists clench and Ransom storms out of the office, heading into the living room for his coat. “Ransom, what happened? Where are you going?” Linda asked, Ransom doesn’t reply and snatched his coat from the chair.

“Ransom!” Linda calls.

“I’m going out to drink,” He says, completely irritated. The next thing they heard was the slam of the front door. Silently, the family looked at each other. Easter didn’t turn out so well. But maybe fourth of July would turn out better.

Maybe.

Fourth of July

Yes. This didn’t turn out as good as Linda hoped. After a few months after Easter, Ransom and Y/N never really contacted the family to apologize for what happened on that day. Linda invited the two again, this time, Y/N was quiet throughout the whole party. Every now and then, she would go and grab a glass of wine, even get Jacob some juice. Y/N slightly chatted with Marta, who was hanging off to the side.

Linda offered Y/N and Ransom to sleep in one of the guest bedrooms in the house. Y/N agreed to do that just after Ransom rudely declined but he had no choice. I mean, he could leave Y/N in the bed alone and just go out for a drink again. He was pissed to hear that Y/N wanted to be with this family. Maybe she wanted to stay away from him.

She didn’t want to argue about some stupid spend-the-night-with-family. So, she ignored Ransom much as possible. The Thrombey and Drysdale’s all laughed and chatted. Ransom was sitting on the couch with his uncle, Walt and his wife, while Y/N was sitting in the one chair with a small table that separated the toxic couple.

Ransom would glance at her, watching her fingers drag along that glass of wine. Oh, how he loved those fingers wrapped around his-

“So, Ransom,” Linda cuts his thoughts, “We haven’t heard from you two since... Easter? How’s it been?” Linda asked, “Was it the job?” Ransom turned his head to his mother. “No. I just...” He looked over to Y/N who wasn’t even gonna help him with this. Everyone knew they probably argued through those whole months.

“We just wanted some time on our own. You know? We went out to the store, went out for walks. Right, babe?” The way he said ‘babe’, Y/N knew he wanted to get her attention but also a warning tone to let her know, if she mentions something to the family, she’ll end up somewhere.

Her eyes look over to him in the most annoyed face that he would’ve knocked off her face. She smiled at his mother, “Yes. He bought me these boots,” She lifted up her ankle to show off the dark brown leather boots that went with her dark jeans, a sweater and a tan coat.

To be honest, she felt disgusted to be twinning close with Ransom’s outfit.

Linda smiled at them, “How lovely, Ransom. You have taste.”

“She gets what she wants,” He says in a monotone, taking his gaze back to her once again. Y/N looked at him, seeing the cold stare that she had given it back at him. Silence fell between them again and Linda changed the subject with Walt’s family.

Y/N wanted to go to bed at that hour, now. Not wanting to hear his stupid voice and have her name slip past his lips again. She went for her glass but realized it was empty and she stood up. Catching her stand up, Ransom watched her head into the kitchen. He then stands up and follows her, excusing himself as he makes his way over.

Y/N dug through the wine cellar shelf, looking over the bottles and pulled the one she wanted and turned to the counter, only to face Ransom on the other end of it.

She pulls out a corkscrew and twisted it into the cork. “What do you want now?” She asked, blankly. Ransom tapped his fingers on the counter and walked around. “I know what you’re doing,” He says. Y/N pops the cork out and drops it on the counter.

“Oh, yeah?” She pours the wine into her glass. His body was now standing behind her.

“You think being with my family can stop me from taking you here right now,” Y/N felt the belt of his pants catch hers, his lower half on her behind. “Stop.” Y/N placed her hands flat on the counter, the warning tone tied in her voice. If he urged more, a bit more, she would slap him into the pits of hell.

His head lowers, “Stop is just tempting me, honey.” His hand reaches under and grabs her throat, turning her to face him, her glass falls to the ground with a shatter. The dark red liquid spreading across the wooden floor as Y/N gasped.

“Y/N? Ransom?” Linda called. Ransom kept his grip on her neck, Y/N’s breathing was getting shaky. “Ransom, let go,” She grabs his wrist. Ransom didn’t release because of her plead, he lets go from Linda’s voice getting closer.

“Y/N, darling, what’s-? Oh, my goodness,” Y/N whips around to face Linda while Ransom takes his steps over to the other side of the counter. Linda goes for the broken glass as Y/N kneels down. “Linda, I’m so sorry. I just bumped it and I-”

“It’s okay. We have lots of these glasses, I’m not complaining.”

“If it were the wine, it’d be a completely different story,” Y/N manages to joke, Linda laughs lightly as the two pick up the glass. “Let’s get this cleaned up,” Linda said. Y/N looks up to Ransom who stood behind his mother a few feet away, staring at Y/N.

Y/N could see the cold stare behind his eyes as it sends chills up her spine. He then walks out of the kitchen, leaving you and Linda to clean up the mess. Another bad family get together with the asshole.

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving was more special to anyone else. It was something to be thankful of. Fuck that. Y/N wasn’t thankful for that asshole. She wanted to be there, even Harlan’s 85th birthday was coming up.

If Ransom picks up another damn fight, he’ll be stuffed with anything Y/N sees on that table. She’ll cut him up like a turkey, find a wishbone and wish for something better than him.

Complete asshole.

He forcefully had to have her in his arms on their way in. Hands laced in each other, she wanted to bite off his pinky finger, maybe shove that stupid metal ring down his throat as well.

Linda gently greeted the couple, saving Y/N from behind held hand in hand with Ransom as she gave her a hug.

Just after the chatting, Y/N and Ransom sat next to each other at the table with the family. Meg sat next to Y/N with her mother, Joni. Jacob and his parents on the other side with Marta and Harlan. The table was long and Richard sat at the end of the table across from his wife, Linda.

“How ‘bout we say what we are thankful for?” Linda asked. Ransom and Richard both groan, “Honey, no-”

“Mom, that whole thankful thing is just old, can we just eat?” Ransom says, Y/N rolls her eyes. Linda sighs. “I’m sure you’re thankful for what you have, Ransom,” She says. Ransom looks at Y/N with a blank expression. “Yeah...” Y/N looks at him. “Very,” He says.

Y/N reached for the salad dressing across from her, reaching for the spoon, she felt her chair jerk and she felt her arm rub against Ransom’s sweater. He had scooted her chair closer to him. He was keeping his eyes on his plate as he ate away.

Rolling her eyes, she reached for the dressing once again and managed to get it on her salad before digging in for the mash potatoes. Adding/Not adding the gravy, she dug in, maybe added some turkey to her plate. She poured herself some champagne as everyone ate and talked. Some laughter came out of the family, some gossip about a few people who weren’t in the family.

Y/N would kick Ransom’s leg once in a while when he placed it by hers very closely.

An hour had passed and only a few had finished their meals. Some even having a second plate. Y/N was still eating her due to the talking that prevented her from eating it. She felt Ransom’s hand reach up to her knee. She flinched away and faced him.

She saw his hand retract and she fixed her position in her seat, keeping her legs close. Another try happened a few minutes after the first. She felt his hand on her knee and before she could move it, his heel jabs into her shin. She hisses under her fork and glared at Ransom.

“You okay, Y/N?” Linda asked, peeping over to look at her. Y/N nods, “The turkey... it’s a bit hot,” Y/N laughs softly. Ransom dragged his hand up. This asshole can’t get a fucking hint that she clearly doesn’t need this right now.

Fuck off.

She felt her dress lift up and she immediately jumps up from her seat causing the conversations to pause. She swallowed thickly, “Sorry.” And with that she scattered for the bathroom. Ransom tried to look confused and gently stood up, “Sorry. She’s usually not like this, I’ll be back, mom,” He stands up and walks out.

Once he left the room, his face darkens and darts for the bathroom she scattered off to.

Y/N stumbled on her heels and stopped to pull them off. Quickly, finding the bathroom and opens the door. Closing it, the door catches something and she looks down to see Ransom’s foot and he pushes the door open. Y/N backs up as he closes the door and locks it.

“Ransom-” She gasps when he grabs her wrist. “Let go of me, Hugh.”

“Don’t call me that!” He shouts. Y/N shoves him forward, pushing him against the wall, she throws her fist towards his face. Returning it, he clenches his fist and hits back. Y/N falls onto her knees, facing away from him as she gasps for air.

Her jaw felt awfully painful. She spits and blood splatters onto the ground. That’s the first time she’s seen blood caused by him. She stands up, turning to him. His eyes burning in flames, he noticed the blood on her lips.

“You’re an asshole,” She chokes out, his shoulders drop slowly, “You always were.” Y/N pushes passed him and unlocks the door, allowing her to leave, he stood there in the bathroom. A minute later, he turns back. Y/N rushes down the stairs to see Linda, “Darling, what’s going on? Are you okay?” Y/N walks by her.

“I’m okay, Linda, I’m gonna head home.”

“But will you be there for my father’s birth-”

“Y/N! Get back here!” Ransom shouts, he storms down the stairs. Y/N drops her heels and runs, the dogs barking as she walked out the gates and Ransom stopped at the porch. “Y/N!” He shouts. Jaw tensed in anger, he growls, going to his car. “Ransom, tell me what the hell is going on!” Linda calls to him. He ignores her and jumps into his car. “Ransom!”

He drives off, going on the search for Y/N.

Of course, he didn’t find her. Weird how she just left and just a minute after she had already ran miles. He gave up and drove back home. Y/N would return eventually, she had nowhere to go. Her family was on the other side of the state. The only money she could get was from Ransom. He made them share bank accounts. Which was stupid.

Fuck.

She had to go back. Maybe not go back to Ransom but to his family. No, no. That’ll make them ask questions why Ransom had hit her. She heard a honk and turned to see Marta’s car.

“Y/N? Where’s Ransom?” She asked, Y/N swallowed and sighed. “I need a place to stay.” Marta sat in the car to think, a few seconds later, she nods. “Okay, get in.”

Y/N opens the door and steps in.

Thanksgiving was not so good either.

A few months later

The family was all back together. This was the worse one yet. Harlan was reported that he committed suicide in his own room but Detective Blanc suspected it was a murder.

Y/N was put into this since she knew Harlan, she even was there at his birthday. If you were wondering, she completely ignored Ransom. Luckily, he kept his distance and then argued with his grandfather in their office.

“Miss L/N, can we speak to you for a moment?” Blanc asks, Y/N glanced up at the three men while Ransom loudly crunches the crackers he had in his hand. She stood up and walked over to the other room for the interrogation.

“So what is your full name?”

“My name is Y/N M/N L/N,” She replies. Blanc looks down at his hands, “What was your relationship with the family?”

Y/N sits up straighter and sighs, “I’m Ransom’s girlfriend.”

“Mhm. How long have you two been together?”

“We’ve work in the same business for about 3 years but in our partner relationship, about a year and a half,” Y/N says. Blanc nods, “Have you and Mr. Drysdale been into a lot of arguments?”

“Yes, I’m afraid we’ve had our disagreements,” Y/N said. Blanc rolls up his sleeves and leans forward. “Has Ransom ever laid a hand on you?”

Shit. What did the Thrombey’s say to him?

“We are just asking,” Blanc holds his hands up. She had to say something. If she said yes, it would go bad. “No,” She said. Blanc cranes his head, she shakes her head, “No, he would never do that.”

Blanc nods slowly, “How much did you know about Harlan? Have you spoken to him before?”

“When I first met him, Ransom never really introduced me to him so I did myself. He was such a sweetheart.” Blanc nods once again, “Where were you on the day of his death? The day of his 85th birthday.”

Y/N swallows, “I was currently in the kitchen, getting myself some wine while Ransom was having a conversation with Harlan. After that, he stormed out of the house, leaving me behind.”

“One way to treat a woman like that,” Blanc says. Y/N nods. “Yeah.” She looks over to the hall where the family was at. Spotting Ransom’s head peaking over the chair before he turns his head away.

Y/N sighs. “Well, thank you, Miss L/N for your honesty. I’m sure you’ll be okay,” Blanc shakes her hand. “Thank you, Detective.” Then she was on her way. Walking over to the room with the family, she began to walk around Ransom, till he catches her arm.

“Come sit here,” He bounces his leg and Y/N stared at him. He looks around. “All the other seats are taken.”

“Ransom, leave the woman alone,” Linda says. Ransom looks over to his mother and dramatically lets go of her wrist as Y/N stood further away from him as he eyed her up and down.

The day continued at the Thrombey’s home. The family had been asking about the inheritance, everything, the money, the house. It all comes down to this. Y/N shouldn’t be here.

She doubt that she wouldn’t get this inheritance. Sure she loved Harlan, made a few jokes and chatted with him more than she did with the others. But she wouldn’t get this money. She wasn’t in the family.

Harlan’s lawyer cuts open the file of what Harlan had place the name of the new owner of his inheritance.

The family all waited, holding hands or hoping in their mind what the cut they’ll get out of it. Each family member has some beef with Harlan. Walt being fired, Joni begging for money for Meg, Richard who knows what along with Ransom. Y/N didn’t know the Drysdale men’s deals with Harlan.

She could care less.

“Oh, wow... this is not too complex, this will be quick,” The lawyer says, causing Linda to make a ‘hmph’ sound. “I, Harlan Thrombey, being of sound, mind and body, ya-da-ya-da-ya-da...” Y/N was leaning on the door next to Marta. Ransom sat in the corner with his chin resting on his palm.

“I hereby, direct, that all my assets both liquid and otherwise, I leave the entirety to... Martha Cabrera and Y/N L/N.”

Holy shit. Marta and Y/N look at each other in disbelief. Y/N knew she wouldn’t be involved with Harlan’s inheritance because she barely knew him. Unless that one day.

“Is Ransom treating you well, Miss L/N?” Harlan asked, she sighs, “It’s getting there. We get into fights a lot and it worries me cause if he were to leave, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

Harlan gives her the gentle smile, “I’m sure if that happens, you’ll be in good shape.”

He really gave her half of what the inheritance was with Marta. Y/N didn’t even realize the family began to look at her and Marta in disbelief. “What?” Joni asks. Walt stands up, asking for the paper. Y/N looks at Marta and they both share the same glance.

How could Harlan do this to them? I mean, Marta was living in a small home and she barely had money for her family together and Y/N wasn’t like Marta but did Harlan feel guilty of having Ransom being with her?

Ransom chuckles at the family who all scattered around the lawyer for the truth, which Walt read, Y/N and Marta’s names were printed on that form.

Ransom then cackles as he stands up, walking over towards Y/N but she watched him pass her, laughing on his way out. “Alan, you can take this piece of paper and shove it right up your ass and get out!” Linda turns to the cops. Y/N couldn’t handle the screams.

Oh no. She deal with it any longer.

Linda loved Y/N in the family, now she just turned sour in front of her.

“We are the Thrombey’s, god dammit! This is still out house!” Linda pauses as the whole family stares back at Alan who flinched. “Oh... and I leave this house to Marta Cabrera.” Y/N’s eyes widen as Linda gasps. “You little bitch!” Linda growls, Y/N couldn’t handle that much clamoring from all of them and ran out of the house.

Rushing to her car, she pulls out her keys and began to unlock her car. Someone pushes her into her car, “You give me that money you just earned from my grandfather and maybe I’ll give you a deal, give you anything you want.” His hands grip her waist, “Anything.”

“Get off!” She elbows him and gets into her car, closing the door. “Y/N!” Ransom bangs on her window. “Open this door, now!” Y/N turns on her car and drives out of the driveway and down the road.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, everything was too much. Harlan shouldn’t have done that. He pitied for her. Ransom was an asshole, yes, but Harlan didn’t have to give that money to her.

All she needed was a damn drink.

An hour had passed and so far no one had bothered to look for her. Soon if Marta would need her, she would call. Y/N regret thinking about that cause now her phone was buzzing. Opening her phone, she sees a text message.

Marta: Ransom’s been taken by the police.

Y/N lifted from the stool and immediately called. “Marta? What the hell happened?”

“What?” Y/N asked.

Blanc walks forward towards Y/N, “That’s right. Ransom had swapped the contents of Marta's medication vials so she would kill Harlan with an overdose of morphine, making her ineligible to claim his inheritance according to the aforementioned slayer rule,” Blanc says.

Y/N looks over to Ransom who just glared at the detective, “However, Marta, an experienced nurse, administered the correct medicine without reading the labels, and is thus innocent of Harlan's death. After the death was reported as suicide, Ransom anonymously hired me to discover Marta's guilt,” Blanc points.

“Fran later saw Ransom swapping the vials back on the day the funeral for Harlan happened, leaving you, Y/N alone that day. Fran sent him the blackmail note. Ransom soon realizing that Marta had given Harlan the correct medication, Ransom passed on the blackmail note to Marta, removing the address and time. He destroyed the evidence of Marta's innocence by burning down the medical examiner's office and burning Fran's copy of the toxicology report. He drugged Fran with morphine and emailed her location to Marta, planning to frame Marta for Fran's murder. But Marta saved Fran’s life, with a good heart. Not once did she play your game.”

Y/N glanced at Ransom once again, seeing his eyes land on hers in a cold stare.

“Fran’s alive?” Ransom asked. “Oh, yes,” Blanc replies, “Fran who will confirm this very story...” Y/N turns to hear Marta’s phone buzz before she turns and answers the phone.

"Yes?"

Everyone draws their eyes to her. "Doctor, that's great news," Blanc fixes his tie out of his shirt. "We'll be there soon, thank you." Marta turns around, almost happy about something. "She's okay," She's referring to Fran, "She's ready to talk." Ransom seemed to get darker by the second.

"Trooper Wagner, if you could-uh keep Mr. Drysdale in custody while Lieutenant Elliot-" Y/N’s mind goes to Ransom who is completely grudged about one thing in the case. He seemed to feel very upset of something. As if he wanted to say one last thing.

"All right. Up, come on," The officer says, Ransom stands up from his seat and went to reach for his coat. His eyes go to Marta once again. "I'm gonna say this just to you. No cameras. No courtroom. Just you, cause you know it's true," He walks up to Marta, "We allowed you into our home. We let you watch our granddad, we welcomes you into our family. And you think you can steal it from us? You think I'm not gonna fight to protect my home? Our birthright? Our ancestral family home?" Blanc begins to laugh causing you all to look over.

"You bought this place in the '80s from a Pakistan real estate-"

"Oh! Shut up, Blanc. Shut! Up! With that Kentucky-fried-foghorn-leghorn-drawl!" He drags out the drawl, "Yeah, I killed Fran, but I guess I didn't. So what do you have on me? Nothing-what? Attempted murder? I get arson for the building and a few other charges, with a good lawyer-Which I have! I'll be out in no time."

Marta again. "And then we'll see, just how much hell I can reek on your life, you vicious little. Bitch," He glares at Marta. “Eat shit, Ransom,” Y/N snaps. Ransom turns to her.

Standing just a feet away from Marta, the couple hear Marta’s stomach rumble, her throat clenches and Y/N know what happens next. Ransom drops his face into confusion and seconds later she vomits right in his face. Everyone jumps up, Ransom backs up as Y/N kneels down to help Marta but she holds her hand up.

"Oh!" Ransom groans, "What the shit?!" He completely blind but tries to open his eyes. Y/N gasps, “Or that.”

"That means she's lying!" Trooper says. "Yeah. Yeah, we know..." The other one says. "That's right," Marta says, "Fran's dead."

Ransom looks over, mouth agape as Marta looks up at him. "And you just confessed her murder." Marta stands up as Y/N helps her.

Ransom laughs, "Well..." He wipes his nose, "In for a penny."

Y/N see Ransom reach for one of the knives, attempting to kill once again. Y/N was quick enough to shove Marta away. "No!" His hand grabs Y/N’s shoulder and her hand grabs his wrist. Ransom had them fall back as the blade inches closer to where her heart was. The group hears the knife sink down, Ransom's body on top of hers. Y/N’s eyes blown wide in fear and shock, her breath was held in for a horrified scream.

She could smell the stomach acid on his face but she was more worried about the blade but nothing felt like it seeped out. Unless the woman was too shocked and felt numb below the neck.

His brows furrow, not seeing her eyes shut close or her body slowly dropping the tension in every muscle. His breathing slowly became less heavier. Y/N finally took a breath and it confused him more. He looks down to where the blade should've been. He lifts the knife slowly as it makes a grinding sound when a chef sharpens a knife and he pokes it into his girlfriend’s chest, finally realizing it was a retractable stage knife.

He looks up to her terrified eyes before muttering, "Shit." The officers grab Ransom's shoulders and pulled him away from her. Y/N laid there on the ground in fear, hand holding onto the blade. A man who had beaten her, was proven guilty for he murder of Fran.

Marta comes down and gently pulls Y/N up. “It’s okay,” Marta says, she gently held her shoulders. Shaking under her touch, all she did was stare in front of her. Ransom calling out to Y/N bringing the tears down her cheeks now.

An asshole turned out to be a murderer.

Eat shit, Hugh Ransom Drysdale.

~~~~~~~~~

TAGS OF A FEW RANDOMS!: @jtargaryen18 @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @chrisevans-imagines @chrisevans-source

#chris evans #ransom drysdale x reader #dark!ransom drysdale x reader #dark!random drysdale #chris evans x reader #cevans #marvel #knives out #knivesout #thanksgiving #easter #fourthofjuly #clue #steve rogers

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eclecticanalyst · 4 years ago

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Studying “A Study in Emerald”

At my grandmother’s house, stacked together with other books underneath a side table in her office, was a thick leatherbound volume with golden engraved lettering. SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE, it said, in large letters on the cover. And in smaller print: The Celebrated Cases of Sherlock Holmes.

I was eight or nine years old, and as soon as I opened the volume I was hooked. I brought it along as I rode with my grandmother doing errands. I asked her if I could have the book, and with her permission took it home with me. I hadn’t finished it by the time summer camp rolled around, so I tucked it into a suitcase and read bits of it at the end of activity-filled days before going to bed. I hardly even glanced at any other books until I had turned the last page.

Since I have re-read the stories so many times over the years, the solutions to the mysteries are no longer a surprise to me. I had read them for the mysteries, the first time. But now I read them for other reasons—the relationship between Holmes and Watson, the atmosphere of horror and dread that ACD does so well, the breadcrumbs of character arcs in the main and recurring characters, and the way the characters seem both dated and modern, sometimes in the same sentence.

All that is to say, I love Sherlock Holmes. And several months ago I found that Neil Gaiman had written a Sherlock Holmes story. I’ve read a few Gaiman works and was curious to see how he treated some of my favorite fictional characters, so I downloaded it. And read it. And loved it. And in this analysis, I will convey my enthusiasm by explaining just how amazing this story is.

NOTE: this will be a multi-part analysis, with one post for each part of “A Study in Emerald.” (Parts 2 and 3 will be covered in one post.) There will also be some follow-up posts with additional thoughts at the end.

You should 100% read the story before continuing because A) it’s awesome and B) there is a twist that I will be getting into pretty quickly that is much better if you experience it for yourself first.

Part 1: The New Friend

The beauty of this story is that knowing the Sherlock Holmes canon works both for and against the reader. If you’ve read the canon, you will recognize the references to certain characters or details or plot points—but at the same time, those moments of recognition can lead you to draw conclusions that Gaiman fully expects you to make but are in fact inaccurate.

Right off the bat, the title of “A Study in Emerald” is just one word away from the title of the very first Sherlock Holmes story. This, along with the first page or so of the narrative, primes us to approach the tale as a straightforward Sherlock Holmes pastiche, like the countless others that have been written: “Sherlock Holmes in space!” “Sherlock Holmes as a kid!” “Sherlock Holmes in the far future!”, where everything is basically the same, just with a natural transformation of entities to match the “hook” of the pastiche—so instead of smoking, kid Holmes sucks on lollipops or the like. The “hook” of this particular pastiche first manifests with the narrator’s war wounds being the result, not of bullets and fevers as in the canon, but of underwater creatures that suck the vitality out of one’s limbs.

“Okay,” we as readers familiar with Sherlock Holmes say to ourselves. “So Holmes and Watson, but in a world of the supernatural. Got it. Nice twist, Gaiman. I’m ready to see what you do with this.”

As I said, Gaiman uses your Sherlock Holmes knowledge against you in constructing this tale. The narrator has a shoulder wound as a result of his wartime experiences, just as Watson does in A Study in Scarlet—the circumstances of his injury are changed to be more fantastical, of course, but we accept that because we have acclimated ourselves to what we think is the whole of this seemingly straightforward premise (Sherlock Holmes, but with Lovecraftian elements). After all, we have the two men meeting in the university laboratory, both interested in sharing rooms, and we get the iconic line, “You have been in Afghanistan, I perceive.” We get the familiar prospective-roommates-share-vices exchange. It’s not the same as the original, but we don’t read Holmes pastiches for the exact same lines we could get by rereading the original stories. Besides, the exchange hits enough check marks for what we already know about Holmes (since we’re familiar with canon) that instead of the change setting off alarm bells, we’re busy patting ourselves on the back for recognizing references and approvingly nodding in response to Gaiman’s demonstrated knowledge of the stories. After all, Holmes did shoot bullets into the wall once. And he is private and easily bored, and selfish as well at times. These are revelations about Holmes’s character that are shared in later stories, after A Study in Scarlet, but they match the whole of his character that we know since we have the entirety of the canon under our belts, so it’s quite clear to us that this man the narrator meets is indeed Sherlock Holmes.

By condensing the characteristics of Holmes that were originally revealed over the course of several publications into one dialogue exchange, the plot is able to move speedily along while reinforcing our initial understanding of this man’s identity. However, presenting these characteristics in this manner also leads to some contradictions with canon, which means that things are just a little bit off. Holmes is established in later stories as having irregular habits, but in A Study in Scarlet, the specific story that this dialogue exchange is echoing, it’s Watson who “get[s] up at all sorts of ungodly hours.” Here the one who admits to “keep[ing] irregular hours” is the non-soldier, when in A Study in Scarlet Holmes is actually quite regular in his schedule (he doesn’t really maintain that behavior beyond that first story, but still). On a more complex level—and I might be reading too much into this particular point but it is striking to me as someone who has spent several years with roommates—there is the detail that the detective in “Emerald” informs the narrator right off the bat that he will need to use the sitting room to see clients. In A Study in Scarlet, Holmes does not inform Watson of this fact in the initial cross-examination. It’s only after they move in together and Watson starts getting (politely) kicked out of the sitting room on a semi-regular basis that Watson even learns Holmes is a person who has a visiting clientele. This is a rather major thing for a prospective roommate to know. Failing to mention this to Watson while still detailing his smoking habits and propensity for chemical experiments is a rather egregious omission on Holmes’s part, as anyone who has had to get used to a new roommate will tell you. So we have two instances where the information about the detective matches our overall conception of Holmes, but it is presented in a way that goes directly in opposition to how it was originally presented in canon—where what we are reading is both right and wrong at the same time.

Let’s continue on in the story. Our “heroes” move into the same old apartment on Baker Street, which further solidifies the straightforward Holmes in a Lovecraftian world explanation we as readers have formulated for the story. We go through the same “narrator wonders what his mysterious roommate does for a living” steps that we remember from A Study in Scarlet, albeit, again, condensed. And the mystery plot begins as the two roommates eat breakfast, just as in that very first story.

Keen readers might take note of the fact that it is Inspector Gregson, not Inspector Lestrade, who brings the mystery in A Study in Scarlet to Holmes’s attention. Considering that Lestrade made more appearances in the canon and became Holmes’s default police contact, Lestrade’s presence here can simply be chalked up to Gaiman paying homage to the whole of the canon, not just the first story. Alternatively, this is yet another instance of things being ever so slightly wrong when compared to the events we are all familiar with.

You’ll notice that, having successfully (because on first read you are likely not reading as critically as I am now with this analysis) lulled us into a false sense of security regarding the premise of this story and the identities of its characters, Gaiman starts to drop more references to other specific stories besides A Study in Scarlet, as well as more direct hints (which require much less complex analyzing than I have done in previous paragraphs) as to who our narrator and his detective friend truly are.

The first* direct hint is so subtle that I don’t think I even picked up on it the first time I read the story. It’s when Lestrade suggests he talk to the detective privately. The content of the exchange is, once again, familiar to a Sherlock Holmes reader—how many times have we seen Holmes assure a client that Watson can be confided in just as well as himself (see: “A Case of Identity”), or refuse to let Watson excuse himself as a case begins to unfold (see: “A Scandal in Bohemia”)? The hint lies in the description of the narrator’s friend when he dismisses Lestrade’s suggestion: “his head moved on his shoulders as it did when he was enjoying a private joke.” Gaiman can’t show his hand too early, so this hint is extremely oblique. The key is the phrasing: “his head moved on his shoulders” is a rather odd and roundabout description, which could much more easily be rendered as “he shook his head” or something to that effect. But in using this wording, Gaiman ever-so-lightly echoes the description of a certain someone a couple pages into “The Final Problem”:

His shoulders are rounded from much study, and his face protrudes forward, and is for ever slowly oscillating from side to side in a curiously reptilian fashion.

We have some more general Easter egg references to the canon—the detective’s slight dissatisfaction when someone (Lestrade in this case) remarks on the simplicity of his reasoning after it is explained, and the Study in Scarlet-specific “only one in the world” consulting detective explanation. And then we have this terrific bit. Our narrator asks the detective if he really wants him to come along. The detective’s response is as follows:

“I have a feeling that we were meant to be together. That we have fought the good fight, side by side, in the past or in the future...from the moment I clapped eyes on you, I knew I trusted you as well as I do myself.”

It’s terrific because it’s a summation of how Holmes and Watson are viewed by their fans. They belong together. Victorian London, World War II, 21st century New York, 22nd century London, as mice, as dogs, we’ve seen them in countless adaptations, and despite the change in locale or era or gender or species or countless other circumstances, they are always inseparable, always a force unto themselves, incomplete without the other. Of course this is Holmes and Watson. How could these words apply to anyone else?

The detective’s speech here appeals to our Holmes devotee sensibilities much more than canon Holmes’s response to Watson asking much the same question in A Study in Scarlet:

“You wish me to come?”

“Yes, if you have nothing better to do.”

Which is a rather unexceptional start to a partnership for the ages. The way “Emerald” tugs at the heartstrings, however, is dangerous—it pulls us further down into acceptance of the twisted world and characters that surround us.

*I will come back to this in a later post!

#sherlock holmes #a study in emerald #a study in scarlet #neil gaiman #analysis #in depth

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be-dazzled · 4 years ago

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The Art of Falling

Chapter III CONSISTENCY IS KEY

Gray Fullbuster, Juvia Lockser, Gajeel Redfox Alternative Historical Universe Genre: Old World Vibes, Period Romance All Chapters: Click here | Taglist

Writer’s Corner: OKAY so I hid an Easter egg in there. Hint: Anime only, related to Juvia. Can you guys guess? Ahahaha. And, oh, I should put the writer’s corner after the story but oh well, let me know what you think of the couple I added in here. Also, I really hope Gray’s cousin is a character you will all like. I love her! Also, dayum period romance really don’t use everyday conversation english, do they? Show me some love. :*

Masterlist

The morning began with the entire Fullbuster household personally attending to the arrival of Lord Silver Fullbuster's beloved niece and her respectable husband. Gray abandoned his wish to come and pay the Locksers a visit to welcome his cousin, Ultear Vastia née Milkovich. She was travelling with her family: her husband Lyon and their daughter Ur, named after her deceased mother. The Vastia couple frequented the Fullbuster Manor, in the fall, when Mr. Vastia's business affairs lulled; they spend a week or so at the mansion, to keep Lady Mika some company. This fall, they arrived with a welcomed addition to their growing family, a six-month old little Ur whom the Lord and the Lady has taken quite the fondness of.

Lunch was spent exchanging stories of the great adventure that was raising little Ur, who the Lord and the Lady came to know, liked to slumber in the day and refused to allow her parents any sleep in the night. So, as soon as the little one awakened, Lord and Lady Fullbuster has taken it upon themselves to entertain the little eyes and insisted on keeping Ur company, while suggesting heavily to their son that it was a good time as any to practice. The young couple stayed behind at the drawing room, kept entertained by Grayden Fullbuster as he played a classical tune on the pianoforte.

Lyon joined his wife on the sofa and brought with him a bottle of fine wine from Lord Silver's cellar. He poured a generous serving in his wife's glass, knowing fully how Ultear missed her night caps.

"Would it be safe to do that?" Gray inquired without taking his eyes off the piano keys. As far as he was aware, drinking alcohol was discouraged upon mothers who breastfed.

"My doctor assured me one, occasional drink would not hurt." reasoned Ultear. "But enough about me. Why shan't we talk about you?" Yet the lady felt obliged to put her glass down after a long sip, then, returned to her husband's warm embrace. "I heard you are frequenting a certain household."

"And whom have you heard this information from?" As part of his noble upbringing, Gray had learned to play the piano as early as he could command his fingers. On the night's occasion, he chose "Air", a classic he had played far too many times, that his fingers knew where to land before he even thought of it.

"A man with a stature and fortune as yours? News travel fast, my dear cousin."

Gray allowed his company a small smile but paid them no more attention as the young pianist fell deeply into his song; only his mellow but pronounced melody filled the silence that befell the room, much to Mrs. Vastia's chagrin.

"Have you set your heart on a Lockser?"

"There are talks about the eldest Lockser's beauty. How it is comparable to that of Helen." Lyon chose that moment to put in a word into the conversation, associating with Miss Lockser the woman of Troy, whose beauty had launched a thousand ships. With Ultear's sharp eyes narrowed at him, Lyon quickly corrected himself before he invoked the ire of his wife. "But only because you, my beautiful wife, had already conceded to marriage."

Lyon bade his time, put on a forged smile turned troubled by the second, until his wife released his beseeching stare and Mr. Vastia could finally breathe relief. She placed a hand on his cheek and lovingly patted a hand on hit.

"I trained you well."

Gray dexterously quickened the tempo of his tune. Oblivious to the unabashed display of affection between the married man and woman, he closed his eyes, pictured the black and white keys clearly in his mind and swayed to the rhythm of his personal version of Air on G String.

"Gray, are you choosing to ignore me?"

"I know better not to."

"Very well. Now, do I have to wrestle the information out of you?"

A single note stretched on before Gray abruptly ended his tune and abandoned his playing. He sighed in defeat and accepted the fact that he was not going to finish the song. What great disrespect to the legendary J.S. Bach. He turned on his seat and addressed the couple holding each other closely on the daybed; the light from the fireplace danced on their feature. Although Lyon and Ultear were married for a year and had conceived a child of their own, Gray was still of the opinion that such display of affection should be shared only in the privacy of their home.

"I admit to the fact that I am seeking a maiden's hand in marriage."

Gray had said it in a tone so solemn that the couple wanted to laugh at its absurdity. In the end, however, seeing no humor in Gray's expression, the answer piqued the couple's interest, Ultear's more than her husband's, that she broke contact from him to devote her attention to her dearest cousin.

"And that maiden's name is?"

"Ms. Juvia Lockser."

The couple exchanged a bewildered look. Gray, however, had no single inkling on what possibly caused his visitors to respond in such a way. He had not any idea that in their little circle, as much as in every household in that town, there was only one Lockser daughter worth mentioning and it was not the name he had given them. But from the hundreds of questions running about in their heads, there was only one Ultear found worth inquiring.

"Is it true then that she left you beaten out in the cold?"

---

"I am flattered that my poor situation could offer you some amusement."

If Lyon Vastia was not a friend from the University and the husband of his beloved cousin, Gray ought to boot him out of Magnolia and back to where he came from. Gray was not one to abuse his power and influence but with how the married man had laughed at him from the Manor all the way to the Lockser House, there was no nerve left of him undisturbed.

"My apologies." The gentleman did not even pretend to try and stifle the chuckles erupting from him. "But this is the best news I've received since the birth of my child." Lyon fixed his coat around him, trying and failing to gather himself as they waited outside the Locksers' door. For he knew Gray was not one inclined to violence; yet, his was a story to be told for generations to come – of how the gentleman was knocked out cold by his future wife.

"Kindly keep your amusement to yourself. Do not embarrass me."

Gray knocked on the door once again, careful not to startle the inhabitants of the house but visibly irate at the older lad stood behind him. From the moment Juvia presented to him the challenge, as soon as the sun risen, Gray stood outside those retiring double doors, waiting for the invitation in. He had those doors slammed in his face twice, all by the hostile second daughter, before he could even pronounce his morning greeting. His father, however, had always reminded him that a man who was trying to win a maiden's heart must endure. Hence, at the moment, he awaited on the stoop, despite being deemed unwelcomed, until a more agreeable Lockser opens the door and invites them in.

Third time was the charm.

Alike the mornings of his every visit, the day began with a slam of the door followed by the reopening of it and a rather exuberant greeting by Mrs. Lockser, a creature much more affable than her second daughter, and her apologizing for said daughter's rudeness.

"I don't know who she takes after." She claimed. "I raised my children well."

By this time, however, Gray had taken it to be the regular course of his courtship.

Gray presented his companion, introducing Lyon as his cousin in law. The latter, same as with Gray, was a man of pedigree. Hence, the first few minutes of the social call were spent with pleasantries. As his cousin, Ultear had suggested, Gray came bearing gifts – the finest ribbons and richest tobacco.

Ultear had given him a good lecture on engagement. The first rule of which was to win the favor of the family, a stratagem her husband sworn by. In Gray's recollection, Lyon had only paid him attention to gain an introduction with Ultear Milkovich, who was then deemed the most beautiful and desirable maiden of all Fiore. Without Gray's aide, Lyon could not have married the lady of his dreams. The young tradesman then decided it was high time he returned the favor. With his wife's blessing, Lyon offered his finest commodities to serve as Gray's presents.

"The moment I heard my dear cousin, Gray, is vying for a woman's affection, my wife and I had decided to bring these all the way from my hometown."

With a merchant's smile plastered on his face, Lyon managed to win more favor, as if the fortune Gray was to inherit was not enough for Mrs. Lockser to worship the young lad.

"You shan't have burdened yourselves, my good gentlemen." said Mr. Lockser, but his wife's face lightened up as she inspected the gifts with astonished eyes.

"Look, my dear! These are hard to come by." Mrs. Lockser presented the case of expensive tobacco to her husband. "Oh and with these beautiful ribbons, my daughters will be envied by this town!" exclaimed she, prancing around her rather crowded parlour. Her happiness had afforded Gray a breath of relief, putting the young suitor at ease until Mrs. Lockser called out to Juvia from the staircase. "Juvia come down and see this!"

There was no response so Mrs. Lockser marched upstairs to take along the daughter herself.

Then came Eliana to step into her mother's absence and expressed her own gratitude towards Mr. Fullbuster. She had a smile that warmed up the room and it aided in Gray's growing self-consciousness. It was the moment that Juvia arrived at – Gray and Eliana sharing in comfortable silence. She then realized how understated the talks were around town, that Grayden Fullbuster and Eliana Lockser made a perfect couple. They were a match made in heaven, she could tell. Eliana's ethereal beauty could make up for what her family lacked in affluence and connections. Her grace and ladylike demeanor very much suited the position of a noble's wife. Gray had no business wooing the wrong sister and if he was to change his choice, she could not blame him, for Juvia was nothing but rude to the young master.

"What are you still doing standing there and having to make your guests wait?"

Juvia tore her contemplating gaze away from the couple she, and the rest of the community, had decided in their minds. Her mother walked past her, oblivious of the resolve Juvia had arrived at.

"What a rude child." Mrs. Lockser complained to herself, then, as if taking off some kind of invisible mask, changed her deportment into a rather overly familiar hostess.

It was then that Juvia caught Gray's eyes, staring up at her without breaking, as the young lady descended the stairs. He only averted his gaze when an unfamiliar lad, dressed in garb as fancy as that of Mr. Fullbuster's, tapped his shoulders and passed him the most beautiful flowers Juvia had ever seen. Her brows furrowed in confusion as Gray walked past her beautiful sister, who deserved the offering of beauty that could rival Miss Lockser's, and stepped forward to meet Juvia at the foot of the staircase. Her eyes had wandered, however, not to meet Gray's dark ones, but at the white Magnolias held in his hands being presented to her. Without meaning to do it, Juvia's own hands saved him the trouble and gathered the bouquet in their safety.

"You should not have." She said in a tone that was neither happy nor content, without removing her eyes from the lovely whites. "Flowers die when removed from their stems." Those words, however, left her lips with indignation. She raised her eyes from the poor flowers and directed them at the confused gentleman from whom they came from, repeating, "Flowers die when removed from their stems."

Gray was left wondering if what was deemed a polite gesture had offended the young lady whose affection he sought. This should not have surprised him; however, since in the beginning he knew, Juvia Lockser was different from the rest of the ladies of Magnolia. Instead of being meekly but happily receiving such beautiful products of nature, like any lady would, Juvia had given him the deadliest stare he had ever had to confront in his life.

"My apologies."

"Non-sense!" Mrs. Lockser interrupted, dispersing the unfriendly air around the two. "You shouldn't apologize for bringing such wonderful flowers, Mr. Fullbuster." She snatched the fresh bouquet in Juvia's hands and casted a reprimanding glance towards the recipient. "And my daughter should be more grateful." She let a moment of silence stretch on, excused herself to the kitchen and instructed her family to help the guests be more comfortable whilst she prepare some refreshments.

With Mrs. Lockser away, the role of host fell onto the lap of Mr. Julian Lockser.

"Please have a seat, Mr. Fullbuster. Mr. Vastia, is it?"

"Yes, sir." answered Lyon politely. He sat next to his friend and cousin-in-law, who obeyed Mr. Lockser diligently.

Foresight had encouraged the second Lockser daughter to excuse herself, for if she wanted to go on about her day, she must now leave before her father started a conversation. His talks often lasted more than necessary.

"Father, if you may please allow me," Juvia had already stood up from her station and motioned to the front door. "I would like to be excused."

Juvia had always been the odd one in the family. She always felt out of place standing next to her sisters but she loved them all the same. She was often the center of her mother's attention and reproach, when her focus was momentarily stolen away from the loveliest daughter, for deviating from social norms and expectations of a lady. Juvia was the kind that would rather come with her father and help in the fields or wander around the woods, something a woman of her age would never be caught dead doing. In all this, she found an ally in his father who would indulge Juvia in her antics, only if it shall drive her mother to the edge of sanity, which both Juvia and her father enjoyed immensely.

However, Mr. Lockser knew there was time for propriety. Furthermore, he was very much aware of the graveness of this visit. His fortune was not well enough to support more than one family.

"Let's entertain our guests, my darling. They have travelled far and early to see our humble abode."

Juvia glanced at the culprit of the visit indignantly. Her frown had placed the blame of disrupting her morning on none other than her self-proclaimed suitor, who met her frown with confusion. Because it was Mr. Lockser who asked, Juvia had no other choice but to return to her place on the sofa and be obligated to listen in boring dialogues or otherwise.

"And what is it that you do, Mr. Vastia?"

Mr. Lockser displayed great interest in Mr. Vastia's business and spent the rest of the morning discussing it, which Juvia had easily foreseen. There was no stopping her father once his interest was roused. Juvia had no other choice but to suffer through it in excruciating silence. Alas, when the conversation rounded into a retelling of Mr. Vastia's adventures in the sea, Juvia's sleepiness had ebbed away. Her ears perked as she listened with much gusto, pitching her own inquiries here and there. For only tales of danger and adventure could hold Juvia's full attention and appease her thirst for them.

"My apologies, good sir, but I have been speaking of myself since this morning. You might see me as a vain man." He meekly coughed a short laugh in an attempt to be perceived modest. "I may have forgotten the reason my cousin and I had come today." He glanced at the reason for their visit, whose amusement had dulled at the interruption. "If Ms. Juvia would allow this gentleman a private audience." Lyon tapped a hand on Gray's shoulder, surprising him momentarily, yet passing the message as clear as day.

"Y-yes," started Gray, "if you may allow sir, I would like to request a private dialogue with your daughter."

"Pardon my interjection, good sirs." It was Juvia who answered on her own behalf, not wanting to be left out of the conversation of which she was the subject of. "If Mr. Fullbuster desired so, should he not have asked for it a moment ago?"

In truth, Juvia did not like the sudden turn of the conversation. She much preferred sitting through every storm the brave tradesman had to grapple with, to return to shore and be reunited with his family, rather than be left alone with the insufferably silent, dull and reserved Mr. Fullbuster.

"He was taken aback by your presence, Miss Juvia. Kindly forgive my cousin."

Such manner of speaking was quite familiar with Juvia; although she had never been the subject of such lighthearted teasing, as no one ever dared speak to a shrew. Even so, without much experience, Juvia could hold her own conversation.

"Could Mr. Fullbuster not speak for himself that you must do it on his behalf?"

Juvia had hidden her intention to affront both gentlemen in a rather sweet but arch smile, something Lyon never expected from this contemptuous lady. The young women of Magnolia were raised to behave with reserved manner and endearing meekness. So it came as a surprise that a young woman such as Juvia had no trouble challenging him. Lyon was dumbfounded that he forgot how to speak for a moment, for there was only a number of people who had such effect on him, and failed to rise to her challenge.

There were many words to describe Mrs. Lockser and heaven-sent was positively not one of them. In that moment, however, when she walked back into the parlour with her pleasant smelling tea and sunny disposition, Lyon conceded to calling her that, a heaven sent, for she had saved him from the blindsided discomfiture.

---

Daylight had gone without Juvia ever having to get out of the house and see it. Her father and mother, but mostly the latter, held the young people hostage in the house. She wished the good gentlemen would take the intimation and excused themselves. The lack of sunlight made the young lady out of sorts and she would not have wanted to be the one to ask them to leave. If Mr. Vastia had not remembered the family waiting for him, the two lads would have joined the Locksers for dinner and Juvia would have lost her manners.

Fatigue had caught up with her when she retired for the night, which Juvia found odd as she had not any activities throughout the day. So, how come her body felt too weary and her muscles too cramp? She walked in to her sisters tucking themselves into their own beds and came to the conclusion that it was too late to search for answers. The second child headed to her own bed stationed between her sisters' and chanced upon the white Magnolias arranged beautifully in a budvase next to it. Much like how she reacted to first meeting them earlier, her hands reached out to them on their own.

"Beautiful, are they not?"

Eliana's voice surprised Juvia that her hand hanged in the air for a moment before she quickly withdrew it back to her side. The eldest crossed to her bed and settled on it as her fingers gently felt the delicate white petals of Juvia's bouquet; her appreciating eyes never left the beautiful display.

"Have you any idea what Magnolias symbolize? Nobility and dignity. Mother says they've been around for thousands of years." Eliana's soft eyes studied the beauty right before her, tossing her head at every angle, lost in the appreciation of the white Magnolias. "They best represent Mr. Fullbuster, do you agree?" She asked in a tone, however, that required no response and so, Juvia did not answer. Instead, the latter examined the sister before her.

Eliana had the gift of seeing only the best in people, of finding beauty in each thing. Juvia could say her sister was too innocent, too naïve but it was one thing she envied of her. Not her beauty, not her flawlessness, but her ability to only see the good.

"You may take them if you wish."

"Non-sense!" Eliana only withdrew her eyes away from the flowers to look at her sister with outrage. "These were offered to you. I was only admiring them." She stood from the bed and motioned towards her own, saying her goodnights to her younger sisters without ever glancing at them. Wendy was fast asleep in her own bunk while Juvia, once again, failed to answer. It seemed that her older sister was not expecting one as Eliana slipped under the covers and faced the opposite wall, away from her kin.

"You admire an illusion, my dear sister." Juvia then turned her eyes towards the white Magnolias, this time, without need but with restrained want of touching them. "For you see, flowers wither as quickly as the sand filters through one's hand."

Juvia never placed high hopes on whatever thing, because sooner than later, the Magnolias would wither and there would be nothing left of it but some proof of its once beautiful existence. Everything must come to an end and such was the fact of life. So, she fell asleep then wondering if how long Gray's misplaced affection would last for such a disagreeable woman as her.

---

"Trust me when I say this, my love," The first thing Lyon did once they arrived back at the mansion was to seek the comfort of his wife. He slipped onto her lap, rested his head on them and waited until Ultear finished the page she was reading and closed her book, "I have never felt so unwanted in my life."

"Don't be overdramatic," interjected Gray, "we made progress."

"Progress?" He turned to the gentleman who spoke while his wife combed her fingers through his silver hair. "The woman was hostile through and through!"

"Yes, because today she had finally talked to me."

"Ah, yes. To tell you in no limited terms how evil you were to pluck the flowers off their stems and offer the same to her."

"Small progress is still progress. Kindly, do not misunderstand Miss Juvia. She only expressed her worry of the flowers' well-being rather than their aesthetic purposes."

Lyon's brows met in the middle to his response and his eyes narrowed in observation. On the outset it appeared that Gray and Juvia was the last people to think when the words 'match made in heaven' came to mind. They were just too different, too opposite from one another, like mismatched pieces of a hundred-piece puzzle. To Lyon's surprise, however, Gray seemed to have a rather deep understanding of the young woman.

"Isn't the eldest a bit more pleasant and agreeable?"

"Perhaps." He answered with a tone that was both uninterested and dismissing, as Gray had found his journal and began writing on it.

"Then what are we doing pining after one who could care less about your existence?"

"I admit that Ms. Juvia Lockser isn't making this at all easy. But may I remind you that nothing of value often is."

There was a sudden silence cut only by Ultear's remarks.

"I could not believe my ears for a moment." A short chuckle tumbled out of Ultear's lips, clearly finding the exchange more amusing than her book or her husband's soft locks.

"I cannot understand where her loathing of you is coming from. Whatever have you done to earn her deep-rooted ire?"

Gray pondered for a moment, putting his pen down and debating whether to tell the couple his truth. As he wanted Juvia not to be unreasonably misunderstood, he opted to recount the night he and Juvia first met. His goal was realized and doubts of Juvia's upbringing were dispelled. He did not anticipate, however, that his beloved cousin and her husband would quickly jump on the young lady's side and abandoned his.

"If you have done the same to me, I would have castrated you right there and then," exclaimed Ultear, who was now seeing her cousin more of an evil than the angel she thought of him to be. "However, as she holds you no accountable, why do you afford this lady much consequence?"

"Why indeed."

Gray had not the answer himself but to find such reason, or any of it, was the cause of this journey.

"Well, I shall not keep you." He addressed the couple without satisfying their curiosity. "I must retire for the night. Tomorrow is a new day." said he, and kept his journal close to him as he went away.

Gray left his behavior to scrutiny of the couple in the room; both pairs of curious eyes followed his retreating back until he disappeared behind the archway.

"I pity our boy, my love. The young lady could not spare him even a bit of interest."

"Do you feel she cannot accept him?"

"Her hostility is something I have never seen even from our business competitors."

There was a stretch of silence, filled only by the mellow crackles from the fireplace. Lyon played with his wife's fingers intertwined with his and let the woman be alone with her thoughts. If Juvia Lockser genuinely harbored no interest towards her beloved cousin, then her aunt's misgivings were not too unfounded. Ultear ought to convince him to end his pertinacity and save his beloved cousin from the awful pain of rejection.

"We must retreat to our chambers then, my love. I will have to rise early to accompany our persistent boy."

Lyon slid off his wife's lap and gently pulled her beloved to her feet, after him. He held on to the warmth of their hands clasped together all the way to their assigned room.

"But I have to say, my love." Lyon led his wife through the corridors of the mansion. "Despite her contentiousness, I can find the charm in the young Juvia Lockser."

The confession had piqued the curiosity of his wife, who was coming down to the resolve of joining her aunt's cause and put a stop on the doomed courtship. Her interest was tickled and mind clouded. For what woman would willingly refuse the opportunity to amass a fortune even she would have envied.

"She is like you in some regard."

"And in what regard would that be?"

Juvia Lockser must have been foolish, very much unlike Ultear. She could not refuse if one day she was to inherit the Fullbuster manor.

"You both would give any gentleman a run for their fortune."

Her husband's smile was equally warm and teasing. For Ultear knew quite well and she could vividly remember, how much suffering she put her now husband through in their own engagement. So that night she deferred her plans on allying with her beloved aunt, no matter how unseemly that was. She wanted to meet the lady and form her own opinion of her. If what her husband said was any true, then Gray's courtship may not be as hopeless as she thought, after all.

tags: @greenapplegrass @shampooneko @trizfn @anaken101 @gruviaftw11 @juviasblog @heademptyonlygruvia @unvalley @jetblackrevival @lannyathewitch @groovyah @jujumanga

#gray x juvia #gruvia #gray fullbuster #juvia lockser #be-dazzled #gruvia period au #gruvia fanfiction #period gruvia #jane austen gruvia

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storyplease · 4 years ago

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So I finally watched “Rise of the Guardians” and I have some thoughts about the major themes in the film...

Anyway, so I know this is a kid’s film or whatever, and I know that this probably WAYYY too in the weeds as far as thoughts are concerned, but what is Tumblr even good for if you can’t rant about fictional characters in peace?

Potential spoilers below cut...

Anyway, so the movie centers around mythical character such as the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus, etc, who can be argued are literally and figuratively “unbelievable” beings that require the faith of children (not necessarily the actual knowledge of their existence) to exist. In many ways, they play by the same rules as the American Gods in Neil Gaiman’s story of the same name. But I digress (a theme in my writing, yes?). One of the biggest themes in the movie is the idea of a “center”- each mythical entity has a an unusual “spark” of something that makes them worthy (from what appears to be upon their death) of becoming more than human.

So for example:

Santa Claus: Miracles/Wonder

Easter Bunny: Rebirth/Hope

Tooth Fairy: Remembrance/Connection

Sandy: Joy/Peace

It is established that all of the characters used to be mortal at some point or other, so the universe appears to have a deus ex machina (the Man in the Moon, who appears to run everything, but more on that later) who “decides” when someone is to be bestowed with powers...but who is also rendered intangible to the human beings they depend on for their power to grow until they prove themselves (mostly to children, because children tend to easily trust and believe in all manner of thing without a shred of evidence, and would therefore be much easier to convince to pledge their loyalty to)...somehow.

One of the big parts of Jack Frost’s story arc is that he doesn’t have any memories of who he was before he awoke with his abilities. He doesn’t remember his family or have the ability to have connections with mortals directly, and yet some people do mention his name without seeing him, so it appears that he is able to scrape power here and there. It is also worth mentioning that all of the Guardians appear to be aware of and can interact with Jack, but that they have chosen not to for over 400 years other than a few times where Jack has tried to playfully interact only to be shut down or retaliated against.

When he finally finds his memories, everyone acts really surprised, but it seems odd that this would never have come up before, especially since the Tooth Fairy appears to swoon/love his teeth and might have brought it up (but we shall forgive her a bit as she appears to be absurdly busy running the tooth empire to end all tooth empires).

But the most important part of this revelation is that a lot of Jack Frost’s negative character traits are specifically because he is lonely and has nobody else. He spends his life interacting with a world that cannot see or touch him. Therefore, his center (fun/mischief) becomes twisted and he causes trouble.

When he realizes his past and is able to connect with both mortal children and the other Guardians, his character blossoms! He becomes confident, protective, fun and wisecracking but without malice or bitterness.

He comes into his own, and his power increases.

Which brings me to...you guessed it...the main antagonist of the film.

The character of Pitch is obviously the bad guy. He’s dark, scary, looks kinda like he’s never brushed his teeth unless the toothpaste was made of coal, and is in general menacing and terrifying. He harms the characters, terrifies the children and generally drives the plot for his own selfish ends. After all, he’s known as the “boogeyman.”

His main traits appear to be a penchant for darkness (creating it and hiding in shadow) and causing fear. His lair appears to be in a hole underground that is situated under an old and rotting bed frame. Now there’s a lot of this that could just be taken on the nose. After all, there’s a reason that “there’s a monster under your bed” is a semi-universal kid’s fear.

There’s even a terrible pun about Pitch having a great time in the “Dark Ages.”

The thing is, darkness can mean a lot of things. And so can fear.

Let me back up a bit so I can explain what I’m getting at:

Awhile back, I read an amazingly insightful book called The Gift Of Fear. It has a lot of very good advice on recognizing and using the fear response to protect your safety and your life. Fear is often overlooked as a silly, primal thing, especially when we talk about children and things that go bump in the night, but there is a very good reasons why humans feel a variety of kinds of fear, and many of them are actively useful in preserving your life.

Darkness is essential to life. The day ends, and night falls. Shadows follow our moves and do as we do. Even the human eye cannot bear blue light at night, and artificial lighting has been touted as all kinds of unhealthy by experts and doctors alike.

None of these things are actively evil or wrong, to be sure.

But Pitch has something in common with Jack Frost. And what is that? Why, he is ignored. Nobody believes in him (which I find silly to be honest because I know plenty of kids afraid of the dark or who have nightmares and such).

The whole thing- the theatrical posing, the big scary Villain speech...in the end, Pitch was doing just the same thing that Jack did when he antagonized the Easter Bunny by ruining the egg hunt with frost. He wanted people to pay attention to him, to like him. And because nobody would do so, he decided that negative attention was still attention.

This is backed up by the fact that none of the children are harmed by his nightmare horses when faced with him (they turn into golden sand when touched). They even say, even with thousands of scary black nightmares bearing down on them, that they aren’t scared of him and will protect the Guardians.

I feel like Pitch is overlooking a couple of things when he is trying his ridiculous plan to rule the world in darkness.

First off, he’s backed himself into a corner- he plays the bad guy, of course he isn’t going to win against the heroes. And to some extent, it’s pretty obvious that he knows it. For all his posturing, he often pulls his punches, and even when he destroys Jack’s staff, he still throws it down on the ground and does not take it with him because he is trying to get Jack to see beyond his limitations just as he himself has learned to harness the sand with his darkness.

Secondly, just because kids love Santa and Easter and gifts from tooth fairies, not all kids have perfect upper-middle-class lives like the children in this movie. There is a reason why there are a surprisingly large number of hand-drawn comics that deal with a child making friends with the monster under the bed or even being protected by said monster against an abusive parent or family member.

My feeling here is that Pitch hasn’t truly realized what his purpose is, and that he is actually being held back because....

Pitch’s center is fear.

There’s a reason he’s portrayed as having a lair under a shabby, rotting bed, in darkness. When he was human, his life must have been hellish. I can imagine him hiding in the shadows of his room, crouched under the bed in darkness because the fear of what his father or mother might do to him was eating him alive. In fact, he may have died in that manner, terrified out of his mind and knowing only the darkness to hide him. If this is what the Man in the Moon deemed worthy to change him into his post-mortal form, then is any of this truly his fault?

I might say...no. Being awoken from a hellish world where you are in constant fear to a world in which fear and darkness are the only thing that strengthen you would be its own sort of hell.

We don’t get to see Pitch’s past, but ostensibly the Tooth Fairy has it and knows of it. A tooth is knocked out at the end, so ostensibly it will go in Pitch’s box, or the box of whoever he was when he was mortal.

But furthermore, what if Pitch were able to change the way he thinks about his power and his strength? What if he uses his darkness to conceal children who are in danger, or helps those who are imprisoned to escape? What if he guides children away from danger by using their fear to guide them? What I am saying is that “playing the villain” seems to be the most obvious thing when you’ve only ever known an existence in which you are hated and told you are wrong and bad.

However, if we really sit down and think about it, colored eggs and toys are no more “good” than shielding the weak and vulnerable with your shadows and putting the fear of...something that bumps in the night in the hearts of predators while guiding the fear of the young from forks in outlets and jumps from high places.

In the end, locking a being like Pitch away is a foolish idea because in his loneliness in the darkness, his fear and terror will only grow, driving him into madness in his isolation. Pitch not only has to learn to conquer his own fears (fear or being rejected, fear of being hated) but to also realize that he can be more than a flat villainous character if he wishes to thrive.

He just has to get past the fear.

#rise of the guardians #meta #jack frost #pitch #on fear #on lonliness #tw for light descriptions of abusive behavior

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halloweenismyfav · 4 years ago

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《 Note: For Leona's birthday, I'm gonna do something similar to Yuki's birthday oneshot! I had to rush the get this out since I forgot it was Leona's birthday just the day before, so I hope it's ok! 》

《 Happy Birthday Leona! 》

Warnings: None

⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙

Jack and Epel were distracting Leona, you and Ruggie were making the cake, and the rest of the students were helping put the final touches of decor in the Savanaclaw dorm. Fairy lights were strung across the pool(?), the party tinsel (that Ace got stuck in originally) was put around the place like eggs on Easter, just less hidden obviously. You spread the frosting as evenly as you could, which was mediocre at best, but the cake was finally done! "We did it! Leona's gonna be back soon, so we should help the others." Ruggie urged as he set the cake on the counter.

The two of you went to the lounge, everyone else almost done decorating. You went to help Riddle since he was the shortest of everyone here. Sure, Lilia is the same height as the dorm head, but he can float unlike Riddle. You grabbed the ends of the tinsel and hung them up for the dorm head before looking at him with a small smile. "Thank you." He sent a small smile back. You all did a couple more final touches before hiding in the spot closest to you. "Why are we going to the lounge? I was wanting to nap..." Leona's annoyed voice got louder as he got closer, which meant no one had time to strategically pick out hiding spots like they wanted.

"You'll see!" Epel urged as he gave Leona a pat on the back. The Pomefiore student looked at his fellow first year with a knowing look as they reached the Savanaclaw lounge. They mouthed a small countdown together, "3...2...1."

"Happy Birthday, Leona!"

Said dorm head's eyes widened as his ears perked up. "...What is this? Your sad excuse of a party?" You felt your heart break in two at those very questions. You were about to ask what was wrong with it, but Leona looked the side with a small smile. "Cause I kinda like it." "Really?!" You exclaimed happily. Leona deadpanned, "I said it once, that should be enough." Your heart mended and you couldn't help but hug him tight. The lion simply patted your head in return, silently eating up the affection. "So I'm assuming that these two," Leona pointed to the first years behind him, "were a distraction?" You nodded. "Thank you for that by the way!" You told the two. "Of course!" Epel and Jack said, sending you a smile in the process. "Anyways, time to party!" You dragged Leona to the middle and got everyone to start eating.

Riddle and Vil were having a bit of trouble while walking on the rocky floor in heels, Leona almost laughing his ass off everytime he saw Vil struggling to walk on the floor. It wasn't often, but it happened enough to make him chuckle. Now the birthday boy was opening his presents! Everyone got Leona a little something, much to Vil's slight displeasure and hestitaion, he got something for the lion too. Leona was opening your gift last, since he says they always save the best for last. When he finally got to your present, you made sure to clarify one small thing...

"So, I got you two gifts. One is the one you're holding. The other is something a little more private..." Leona caught your drift, smirking a bit, before opening the present in his grasp. It was a picture you drew of Leona when he was skipping lunch and sleeping in the garden. "I know it might not be as good as some of the other gifts you got, but I hope you like it nonetheless."

He didn't physically say anything. He just looked at you with this look in his eyes that said he was extremely happy. You smiled so wide you thought your jaw would break. Everyone chatted for a while longer after. It was mainly playful fighting, random debates about who knows what, 2am thoughts from Floyd, and Mama Vil having to correct apple child of his accent that continuously slipped in and out.

While everyone was busy paying attention to Riddle's random debate with Malleus(yes they invited him), Leona started to whisk you away from the party to his room. "While they're busy, wanna get started on that second present?"

#twisted wonderland #twst #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #happy birthday leona!#lilia vanrouge (mentioned)#riddle rosehearts (mentioned)#epel felmier (mentioned)#jack howl (mentioned)#floyd leech (mentioned)#malleus draconia (mentioned)#vil schoenheit (mentioned)#oneshot #birthday oneshot #hallow's mixing the potion

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higuchimon · 3 years ago

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[fanfic] Tough Lessons: Chapter 3 [end]

"The Kaiser is making attempts to get your attention, mistress."

Death Rosemon lounged back into the embrace of her favored throne and considered her options. She'd expected something like this ever since that ridiculous child had started his campaign to "take over the Digital World". How little he knew. How much she would enjoy teaching him.

"Has he taken any of my servants captive yet?" She asked at last. Enshoumon shook their head.

"So far it's been nothing but some of his slaves setting up the beginnings of those spires. Your spies indicate he is planning on an attack on a small village tomorrow, though."

Death Rosemon's lips curved for a heartbeat. "Is that so." It wasn't a question. She tapped her fingers for a second before she made up her mind. "This is what I want you to do."

Daisuke tried not to think about how good the wind felt against him as they rode the AirDramon through the skies. V-mon's evolutions didn't include flight, so he'd mostly been a ground-bound fighter. He didn't want to think about where they were going or who he was with. He just wanted to enjoy the flight.

Unfortunately, Kaiser wasn't going to allow that.

"We're almost there. Are you ready?"

Daisuke drew in a steadying breath and raised his eyes to look at his captor. He refused to think of Kaiser as his "master", even if he had to call him that. "I'm ready." He wasn't. He didn't think he'd ever be. He knew what was coming and he wanted nothing to do with it - and if he wanted just the bare chance of spending a couple of hours with V-mon, then he would have to do it.

"I don't believe you are," Kaiser replied, his lips quirked faintly. "But we shall see."

AirDramon started downward. Below, Daisuke could see a small army of Ringed and Spiraled Digimon following along their projected path.

It was a lot more firepower than would really be needed to take on a small establishment - he wasn't even sure if it should be called a village. But Daisuke guessed that maybe the Kaiser expected the other Chosen to show up during this. It wasn't impossible. Though sometimes they didn't get there until after the Kaiser did, and they had to deal with the aftermath.

What would they think when they found out that he'd helped here? Would they understand why? They knew why he was with Kaiser; they'd made this unholy bargain and he couldn't argue with it. He would have died otherwise. Death Rosemon's poison was potent and even now he could feel the faintest traces of it in his veins. Not enough to stop him from doing anything, but sometimes when he paid attention to it, he could feel that fire along his veins.

He tried very hard not to pay attention to it. He remembered quite vividly what it was like before the Kaiser's cure. He hated thinking about that too but he wasn't going to forget that Kaiser had actually helped him. That was why he was here in the first place.

AirDramon landed, and Kaiser and Daisuke stepped off of the Digimon. They stood in front of the wooden palisade, and Daisuke thought he could hear the whispers of the Digimon inside. He pressed his lips together and looked at Kaiser, his stomach churning at what he knew would happen next.

"Tortomon." Kaiser spoke the word calmly as he gestured to the palisade. "Destroy that."

The yellow Digimon surged forward at once, knocking into the wooden structure. A sharp crack echoed, before Tortomon backed up and did it again. Twice more, with cracks reverberating each time, finished the job. The Gotsumon and Elecmon huddled in the back of their enclosure, one or two making an attempt to climb the walls and get out of there. Daisuke didn't think they were going to get very far - he knew that Kaiser had encircled the area with other Ringed Digimon. Those who tried to flee would be captured, just as the ones here would be.

Kaiser strode forward, beckoning Daisuke along. Reluctantly he did so, reminding himself over and over that he'd get to see V-mon for this. Under some circumstances he might not have, even for V-mon. But after that horrid beat-down a few days earlier, he needed to see his partner again.

Damn Kaiser. He kept most of his attention on what was going on in front of him, though, and kept up with Kaiser as they approached the Digimon. So many small, terrified faces staring at him, flickers of hope warring with abject terror. Daisuke worried at his lower lip, even as Kaiser produced an Evil Ring and held it out to him.

"Pick one," he ordered. "And do as you've been told."

"No..." One of the Elecmon whispered, electricity starting to flow over it. Daisuke steeled himself, then quickly threw the Ring out. He would have done anything to avoid it hitting, to make sure this failed, if V-mon and V-mon's safety didn't exist in the back of his mind at all times. But Kaiser's words echoed over and over - as long as he was interesting. If he ever became too dull, then Kaiser would let him go. He couldn't be too dull and not disobedient, though. A fine line to walk and he didn't know if he ever would do it right. He hoped this helped.

What he knew for certain that it did was clamp firmly around Elecmon's throat. Coal-red eyes glowed brilliantly and Elecmon stepped forward, kneeling down before Kaiser. Kaiser gestured briefly to it, before handing more Rings over to Daisuke.

"Get to work." It was the only order that he gave but it was all that he needed to do. Daisuke threw more and more Rings, his stomach churning and his gorge rising. A few of them missed, but the bulk of them landed on various Digimon and clamped hard into place. He fought back tears at the sight, not even daring to think what would happen if he let them flow.

Eventually all of the Digimon had either fled or been Ringed. Most of them Daisuke had Ringed himself. He shook his head and stared at Kaiser. "How can you do this?" He had to know. How could anyone do this, treat living creatures as if they were nothing?

"It's not that difficult. You're just new at this." Kaiser patted him on the shoulder in a horrid mockery of support. "Now, I think you did well enough to spend some time with V-mon."

Daisuke shivered. He wasn't sure if he wanted to let V-mon know what had happened. There wasn't much he could do other than follow Kaiser back onto the AirDramon and stare at the clouds and a few stray Digimon flying away swiftly as they recognized the Kaiser and his conveyance. He had to keep swallowing to make sure no tears made their way down and nothing else made its way up. By the time they got back to the fortress, he thought he was in better control of himself. At least he didn't throw up on the Kaiser's shoes - which he thought might've made him feel a little better. Even if that robbed him of his V-mon time.

Kaiser brought him along to a room in the fortress. There wasn't much to it besides the usual four walls, ceilings, and a floor. Daisuke had no idea of what it might be used for when he wasn't there. But he waited, and before very long, V-mon limped his way into the room, supported by Wormmon. Daisuke darted over to him at once, kneeling down to support him gently.

"I've got him," he murmured to Wormmon, who nodded quickly and backed away. Daisuke paid little attention, all of his focus all on his own partner. There were still bruises and a few healing cuts, but overall, he wasn't as bad as Daisuke had feared he might be.

Even better, he smiled up at Daisuke. "Hey. I heard you're feeling better?"

"A lot better," Daisuke agreed, settling cross-legged on the floor and pulling V-mon into his lap. "Even more now that you're all right. I was worried about you."

V-mon offered a bit of a snort. "Don't worry about me! Nothing that Kaiser can do can hurt me for long!"

Daisuke smiled. Oh, he knew that. Kaiser didn't care about hurting V-mon. He wanted to hurt Daisuke, and he did that so very well. His smile held equal parts sadness and joy. Sadness at knowing this pain was because of him - joy for knowing that he could spend this little time with his partner.

"Are we going home?" V-mon wanted to know. He scrunched up his nose. "I miss my cushion."

"I'll see if I can get you one, but we can't go home just yet." Daisuke sighed, running his fingers over V-mon's head ridges. "Kaiser's not going to let me."

V-mon frowned now, wriggling so he could look better at Daisuke. "What's that got to do with it? Can't we just go now?"

"No." Daisuke reluctantly shook his head. "For one thing, he saved my life. So I have to stay because of that. And - he's got my D-3 and D-Terminal. So I can't evolve you." Oh, if he could. He'd risk so much.

V-mon didn't look too thrilled about that. Neither was Daisuke. He decided not to say anything about wanting to be boring to make Kaiser lose interest in him. He didn't think Kaiser was watching him, but he didn't want to find out otherwise.

So for now, he just relaxed with V-mon and enjoyed himself, his eyes sliding closed. He wasn't taking a nap but he just let his mind wander freely. He wished that they could be anywhere else but here. Laying out in the sun somewhere in the Digital World, or playing soccer somewhere, or sitting in Daisuke's room reading manga together. He'd introduced V-mon to a couple of his favorites and now his partner waited as eagerly as he did for the new chapters.

Very familiar boots clicked into hearing. Daisuke winced; he didn't get up even though he knew that he should. But he waited, waited until he heard that very annoyed throat being cleared, and then he looked up to see Kaiser’s sharp violet eyes glaring at him.

"It can't be over already," he muttered. Kaiser pressed his lips together and nodded, tapping the handle of his whip on his hip at the same time.

"Two hours. Plus an extra ten minutes."

Wormmon wriggled up next to him, eyes shifting between Kaiser and V-mon. If he had anything to say he didn't say it, only started over to V-mon at Kaiser's nod.

"I'm sorry, V-mon," Daisuke whispered, trembling as Wormmon helped V-mon to his feet. "He said I could only have two hours." He'd enjoyed that brief visit so much that he'd never even thought about telling V-mon they had a time limit. "But I'll see you again. I promise."

Kaiser's fingers pressed into Daisuke's shoulder, not quite enough to bruise, but firmly regardless. "You'll see him if I allow it. If you do exactly what you're told."

V-mon tried to shake his head, trying to move away from Wormmon, but whatever energy he'd built back up didn't stretch out that far. Daisuke took a step forward. "Soon," he promised, with all of his heart. "Get better, V-mon, and I'll see you soon, I promise!" He refused to let anything change his mind on that. He would see his partner again and they would find a way to escape Kaiser once and for all.

Far too soon V-mon wasn't there anymore, taken back to wherever he stayed while recovering. Daisuke took a deep breath, fighting back the tears that wanted to spill, and turned to face the Kaiser, who stood back now with arms crossed over his chest.

"What do I have to do to see him again?" Daisuke had never had much shame when it came to asking for things, especially from the Kaiser. Some things just didn't matter.

"I'll let you know when I've decided. But right now it's time for dinner." Kaiser's lips curved ever so faintly. "And for your medicine."

Daisuke winced. Medicine. Dinner. Exercise. The usual round of evening life with the Kaiser. There would probably be lessons, too, and who knew what else Kaiser would come up with to keep him "interesting". He'd never wanted to be boring so much in his entire life and nothing he tried seemed to work.

"Come along," Kaiser ordered, strolling down the hallway. Daisuke followed along, his steps feeling heavier and more reluctant than they ever had. Seeing V-mon both renewed his strength and sapped it at the same time. So very glad to know V-mon was all right and getting better, and yet not being able to get both of them out of there - it just wasn't what he wanted and he saw no way to get what he wanted.

I will get us out of here. He'd renewed that promise to V-mon and now he did it for himself. Whatever he needed to do, he would do. If he couldn't get Kaiser to release him, then he'd find a way to get out with V-mon without that. It might have to wait - he hadn't forgotten that he needed that medicine.

That was it! He practically laughed out loud as the solution occurred to him. All he had to do was wait until he didn't need the medicine anymore. It couldn't take that long. Maybe a couple of days at best. Then he'd be able to get V-mon, get his D-3 and D-Terminal, and get out of there.

That did mean he'd have to find wherever Kaiser had hidden his D-3, D-Terminal, and V-mon before getting out of there. He would do it.

He settled into his place with the Kaiser, ready to eat. Kaiser already had had the meal set out, and he carefully fed Daisuke by hand before eating his own share. Daisuke ate quietly, trying to think of where his items might be. The last he'd seen his D-3 the Kaiser had done something to it, vanishing it into the depths of his cloak. When he had a moment, he gathered up his nerve and caught the Kaiser's eye.

"You have something to ask?" Kaiser wanted to know, eyebrow quirked in that annoying fashion.

"When can I have my D-3 and D-Terminal back?" Daisuke asked, hoping that his question wouldn't anger Kaiser. "What do I have to do to earn them back?"

Kaiser leaned back in his chair. "An interesting question. Do explain what makes you think you ever could."

The words fell on Daisuke's ears like thunder and flame wrapped around one another. His heart skipped a handful of beat and his throat dried up. He swallowed, made an attempt to speak and failed, shook his head to clear it, and tried again.

"Why wouldn't I? I mean - you - you want me to help you, right? But I can't really do that unless I've got V-mon and if he can't evolve, there's not a lot that we can do together." Which he wasn't entirely certain that he believed, but if it got him his stuff back, then he'd lie like a cheap rug.

Kaiser's lips thinned into something that only vaguely resembled a smile. "I wouldn't call that entirely true. You're very useful as an arm-rest all by yourself. And I can assign my slaves to follow your orders - briefly. He smiled again and it chilled Daisuke to the bone. "Within certain limits, of course." He leaned forward to stare down into Daisuke's eyes. "You're not useless without him. It's far more interesting to me to keep you apart. I'm sure you've guessed that by now."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, where he hadn't wanted to think about it, Daisuke thought that he just might have. Kaiser would do whatever interested him and hurt someone else, especially if that someone else were his live-in torment victim. He swallowed, trying to fight against the hard lump that lodged itself in his throat without warning, and clenched his fists together. He managed to work out one more question, one last hope against the despair that threatened in a way it never had before.

"What about the medicine? How long do I have to keep taking it?" He had to know. The way that the Kaiser's smile appeared somehow even more amused than before didn't bode well in the slightest.

"I made that remedy myself once I learned of Death Rosemon's poison. It's very difficult to distill and I really don't think I got it entirely correct." Kaiser mused, so very obviously playing this up. "Obviously I managed to get the part right where you don't die but some of the ingredients are often known to have other effects - such as becoming addictive."

Daisuke started to shake his head. That was all he thought he could do right now. It didn't make sense. It couldn't be. Kaiser was lying. That was the kind of person that he was; the kind who would lie just to enjoy himself.

"Unfortunately, I don't know how many doses it would take to addict someone to the remedy or what the side effects of stopping it would be." Kaiser shrugged casually. "Especially since my only test subjects are Digimon. You are a human. Your reactions to this could be very different. You could be addicted, or get addicted, or not." His eyes gleamed bright and cold and somehow terrifying in a way that Daisuke loathed. "But I'm not going to stop your treatment just to test that."

"Why not?" Daisuke demanded. "I think that's something I would like to know!" He refused to be addicted to something without knowing it.

But Kaiser only smiled. "Because you're more interesting like this. Now open up. It's time for your medicine."

The End

Notes: I have fascinating plans for Death Rosemon and what she intends to do. Ken is not ready for this. And which side will Daisuke pick in the end? I think we all know that, don’t we?

#fanfic #higuchimon writes #digimon adventure 02 #ichijouji ken #motomiya daisuke #ken x daisuke #daisuke x ken #chapters: tough lessons #series: services rendered

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yurtletheturtlehenderson · 5 years ago

Text

Scars That Heal || Eddie Kaspbrak x Reader Series

• Ch. 3: The Right Stuff •

I’ve been writing this for the past couple of days, wanted to have it ready for today. Happy Halloween! 🎃

×××

“Take everything but the Delicious Deals, guys,” Eddie instructed. “My mom loves them.

Richie was rifling through Eddie’s kitchen cabinet, Bill and Richie had stopped by Eddie’s house before their trip to the barrens. They figured they should grab some snacks beforehand.

Eddie watches, leaning against the kitchen counter.

"Hey! First, you said the Barrens, now you’re saying the sewer.” He said. “I mean, what if we get caught?”

“We won’t, Eds,” Bill assured. “The sewers are p-p-public works. We’re the public aren’t we?”

“Hey, Eddie?” Richie stood at the other end of the kitchen, a cabinet full of pills open. “these your birth control pills?”

“Yeah, and I’m saving it for your sister. This is private stuff.” Eddie retorted.

The boys closed all the cabinets and exited the kitchen. The TV from the front room was playing softly, Mrs. Kaspbrak was seated in her living room, watching.

“Hello, and welcome to the Derry Children’s Hour.”

“Eddie Bear,” the boys stopped, looking at Mrs. Kaspbrak. “where you boys off to in such a rush?”

“Umm…” Bill spoke up, already feeling the effects of his stutter. “J-j-just my uh, backyard, Mrs. K. I g-got a new…”

“A new croquet set,” Richie jumped in. “Jeez, spit it out, Buh-Buh-Bill”

“Okay,” she eased, her eyes drilling into the boys. “Oh, and sweetie, don’t go rolling around on the grass. Especially if it’s just been cut. You know how bad you’re allergies can get.”

“Yes, mom. Let’s go.” Eddie mumbled, and he began herding his friends out of the door.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Eddie froze, and his friends hesitated. Shamefully, he turned and walked into the living room towards his mother who held out her cheek. Eddie planted a quick kiss and returned to the front door. He could see Richie and Bill stifling laughter.

“Do you want one from me too, Mrs. K?” Richie felt a harsh shove towards the door, and he chuckled. “I was kidding!”

The boys, now joined by Stan, zipped through the streets of Derry, wind in their hair. As they barrelled through the town, the Derry Public Library cropped up into view.

Inside, sat at one of the tables and thoughtfully scribbling on a postcard was Ben Hanscom. He had been mulling over the poem, trying to find the perfect words he could use that could possibly capture what he felt in his heart. Finally, when he had finished, he read the final draft in a hushed whisper.

“You’re hair is winter fire, January embers… My heart burns there too.”

His attention was brought to the windows when he heard muffled shouts outside.

“Slow down!” Said one voice.

“Hi-ho, Silver! Away!” Cried another.

He spotted four bikes cruising down the street, just in front of the library. The first voice cried out again.

“Your old lady bike’s too fast for us!”

The abrupt smack of the book as it hit the table echoed across the quiet library, his attention on the snippy librarian. Her glasses sat perched on the edge of her nose and she was staring judgmentally at Ben.

“Found it.” Her eyes squinted. “Isn’t it summer vacation? I would think you’d be ready to take a break from the books.”

Ben who was fiddled nervously with his fingers, shrugged. “I like it here.”

She blinked at his response and looked down at him distastefully. “A boy should be spending his summer outside with friends. Don’t you have any friends.”

Ben looked away, before speaking, avoiding all eye contact with the stingy woman.

“Can I have the book now?”

She gave the book a quick pat and left promptly. Ben breathed a sigh in relief and grabbed the History of Old Derry, opening it up.

He was constantly intrigued by his new town, and every time he could dig deeper into its history, he felt a little piece of the puzzle fall into place.

He flipped through the pages, eyes trained on the different pictures, scanning the captions but nothing, in particular, caught his eye. That is until he reached one photo in particular. It was a rather tall building, flooded with people of all ages, mostly children. What caught his eye was an old circus caravan.

It featured a picture of a clown. Some of it was cut off, but he could make out some of it. “Penny-” the rest was covered, and below it, he had gotten enough context to know it read “Dancing Clown.”

Below the picture, the caption read “Easter Egg Hunt celebration at the Derry Iron Work, April 3rd, 1908” Unbeknownst to Ben, a woman at the back of the library, turned to watch him. Eyes fixed completely on Ben, an eerie smile on her face.

Ben continued to flip through the book, fascinated. Another photo, this one of several kids, all holding their baskets of eggs. He turned the page, and featured on the next page was a photocopy of a newspaper, the Derry Herald. It read, “EASTER EXPLOSION KILLS 88 CHILDREN, 102 TOTAL”

He scanned the page briefly, his eyes lingering on the photo featured in the newspaper. Ben felt a chill run down his spine, still oblivious to the woman staring at him in the library. As he advanced further in the book, it only grew darker. Bodies were strewn all over the grass in the photo, captioned, “Bodies of those killed in Derry Iron Works Explosion, 1908”

Another page. This photo depicted a small crowd of people gathered around an old tree. “A gruesome discovery in the wake of the Derry Iron Works explosion, 1908”. Ben could not see the gruesome discovery he read about, and he was thankful. He turned the page again. Peculiar.

A slightly zoomed-in version of the previous photo. He turned the page. The same photo, only closer. Another page. Another photo of the branches. Frantically, Ben continued to flip through the pages, heart thumping. Sure enough, like a slow-motion animation, it closed in on the branches of the tree. Closer and closer and closer and-

A head. A boy’s head. An impossibly crystal clear photo of a boy’s severed head is caught in the branches. Ben felt his stomach lurch and he slammed the book shut, panting heavily. What the hell had he just seen?

His eyes trailed from the cover of A History of old Derry to a recent headline of the newspaper. “Body found by canal not Betty Ripsom” What the hell was wrong with this town? Ben stiffed when he heard a soft giggle, the slow tune of an old music box began to play. Slowly he turned.

Across the library, a bright red balloon was floating across the library, disappearing through a doorway. He rose to his feet and peered out the doorway, anxiety settling in his stomach. Perched on the steps was a smoking easter egg, charred and burned. For an unknown reason, Ben let his legs carry him down the hall, where he found another singed egg. And another. And another.

He now found himself in the library’s basement, where everything was stored in a maze of shelves. He picked up the egg, despite its charred exterior, it wasn’t hot. He could have sworn he heard shuffling down the hallway of shelves and he crept forward. Was the librarian down here, he wondered. She couldn’t be, the lights were off. Right on cue, the lights flickered on and off, a sickening pale green.

The lights flickered long enough for Ben to see a figure dart between the shelves. The room went dark once more and Ben beard a clatter from behind him. He turned around, and at the top of the stairs was the figure of a boy, maybe his age. It was hard to tell. Regardless, Ben watched cautiously as the figure took a few stiffened steps down the stairs one see step at a time. He froze, and Ben watched anxiously, his heart pounding. The figure took another step down, revealing to Ben that he had no head.

Smoke wafted from his neck and while he had no head, Ben knew somehow it was looking right at him. He had been holding several eggs to his chest, which he now dropped. The eggs hit the ground, splattering everywhere. The figure of the headless boy trudged down the stairs and froze briefly. And then it took off after Ben.

Ben sped down into the small maze of shelves, he could barely hear his own footsteps, let alone the footsteps of the figure over his pounding heart and heavy breathing. He cast a glance over his shoulder to see the figure running stiffly but swiftly after him. He made so many turns he lost count of where he was, much too frightened to paying attention to where he was going. He found that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the figure chasing him, too afraid if he didn’t look he would sneak up and grab him. He looked forward just in time to turn the corner.

A taunting gravelly voice grabbed his attention, and he quickly glanced a final glance behind him to see a giant bulbous clown head on top of the boy’s once headless figure was right in front of him.

“Egg boy!” It said.

He felt himself collide with a figure and he stumbled back frightened. The figure he crashed into let out a startled gasp and dropped several books. It was the librarian.

She looked Ben up and down sharply. “What on earth are you doing?”

Ben spared a frightful look down the hallway of shelves, relieved to find nothing there. Still panting, in fear or exhaustion or possibly both, he had no idea. He looked the librarian in the eye once more and fled up the stairs, grateful to be caught where he shouldn’t have been.

After gathering his things, and his composure, Ben exited the library. He trudged across the grass, passing the stone monument, unaware of the spiteful mulleted teenager that had been waiting for him.

“Where you off to, tits?”

Ben took one look at Henry Bowers and fled. Unfortunately, he hadn’t made it far before one of his goons had been waiting for him and snatched him up.

“Gotcha.”

The Bowers gang had dragged a fighting Ben Hanscom several blocks to Derry’s infamous Kissing Bridge.

“Wait!”

“Fucking hold him!”

“Leave me alone!”

“Smack him.”

“Don’t let tubby get away.”

"Help!“

Laughter erupted from the vicious group of boys. Patrick Hockstetter had a hold on Ben, one of them had pulled Ben’s shirt up over his head, disorienting him. A cackling Victor Criss slapped Ben’s stomach teasingly and each of them got a shot at kicking, poking and shoving, in ignoring the boy’s cries of protest.

Ben felt himself get pinned against the side of the bridge. "Just leave me alone.”

“Look at all this blubber!” Exclaimed Belch, who ripped his shirt back down.

Ben looked around in fear, struggling against his attackers. The rattling of a can came from Patrick, who eagerly shook the can of hairspray as he stood in front of Ben.

“Let me light his hair, like Michael Jackson,” he said eagerly, flicking open his lighter and created a small bellow of flames.

“Just hold him,” Growled Henry, pushing him out of the way and Ben roughly by the collar.

“Get off me! Get off me!” Ben stopped shouting when he heard the low rumble of a car.

Everyone else quieted as well, watching a car slowly cruised by, the window rolled down. The gang expected to be stopped, but the car kept going. The couple inside contributed nothing but a passing glance, and Ben cried out for help.

The only kind of response he received, was the abrupt and unexpected form of a bright red balloon popping up in the window of the back seat.

Henry landed a right hook in Ben’s jaw and another. Ben felt his sense getting knocked loose and he grew dizzy, his ears ringing. Henry grabbed him by the head, shaking it vigorously as he yelled in anger and madness. His hearing came back in time to hear Henry seething threats.

“Okay, new kid. This is what us locals call the Kissing Bridge. It’s famous for two things. Sucking face,” he held up his pocket knife and suddenly unsheathed it. “and carving names”

Nausea washed over Ben and winced, shaking his head desperately.

“Henry, please,” he pleaded, shaking his head no.

Ben roared in agony, searing pain erupted ok stomach as Henry forcefully carved a large H on his stomach. Patrick cackled madly and Victor said nothing. Belch was the only one who became uneasy.

“Woah, woah! Henry!”

“Shut up!” He bellowed, spit flying from his mouth. “I’m gonna carve my whole name onto this cottage cheese!”

In one swift movement, Ben brought his leg up to Henry, kicking himself off and he tumbled over the side of the bridge. Grunting, he tumbled down the harsh slope, being poked and stabbed by various twigs but none of it came close to the pain of the mark Henry had left.

He could hear the angry cries of Henry, who was peering over the bridge. “I’m gonna cut your fucking tits off. I swear to God!”

He launched himself over the bridge and all his friends joined him. Ben jumped to his feet when he heard the rustling of the leaves up the hill he had just fallen. He turned on his heel, and sprinted into the trees, trying desperately to ignore the searing pain in his stomach every time he moved. Ben made several twists and turns through the trees, never allowing himself to stop.

Meanwhile, Henry and his friends had reached the end of the hill, and Henry began sifting through the dirt and leaves frantically. “My knife. My old man will kill me!”

Belch and Patrick watched, not knowing what to do. Henry looked at him expectantly.

“You two get him!” They fled into the woods after Ben and Henry turned to Victor. “Move your fucking ass!”

Ben could hear the approaching footsteps and voices behind him as he reached a fork in the path. He went down the left which lead him to the edge of the ferns at the edge of a creek. Patrick and Belch reached the same fork and they stopped. Patrick gestured for Belch to take the right while Patrick took the left.

Ben felt his socks dampen, as ran along the creek leaving the Bowers gang far behind him.

×××

“You holding up okay?”

Beverly had returned to the living room, now fully dressed in a maroon tank top and denim shorts, her usual key around her neck and her long red hair hung at the side of her shoulders in a ponytail. The two girls had scraped together as many ointments and bandages for Y/n’s leg.

Though they hadn’t had much luck. They couldn’t find a single thread of gauze and only half a foot of ace bandages. So Beverly did her best to clean the wound with a wet paper towel and applied some ointment. She found a spare white cotton cloth in the linen closet and wrapped it firmly around Y/n’s leg to stop the bleeding.

Once Y/n’s leg had been taken care of, they got to work cleaning the carpet as best as they could. Beverly took most of the trips back and forth to the kitchen given Y/n was still much too sore. When the carpet had been scrubbed within an inch of its life, the girls finally retreated to the couch and talked into the sun came up. They talked about anything and everything - aside from what Y/n had seen, still much too frightened to speak of it.

Beverly stood at the edge of Y/n’s living room, now fully dressed, looking at Y/n, trying to gauge her mood. She had not moved from her spot on the couch and she looked as if she was lost in thought, her eyes fixed on the barely visible pink stain on the carpet.

“Y/n?”

Snapping out of her daze, she looked to Beverly, still in a bit of a daze. “Hm?”

“Are you alright to get dressed, or,” she trailed off, not wanting to offend her friend but still offering her assistance.

“Oh, yeah, I’m good. Thanks,”

She pushed herself off the couch and limped lightly into the hall, passing Beverly and retreated into her room to get dressed. She winced at the pain that seared in her leg but she relaxed gradually. She was growing used to it.

Biting her lip and hissing slightly, she tried her best to step into her pair of overall shorts. She had almost gotten her leg in when she began to tip over. Thankfully she had landed on her bed, she used the advantage to slip easily in her shorts and sighed in relief, the hard part over.

Satisfied with her handiwork, Y/n grabbed her lowest pair of socks and shoes and joined Beverly back in the living room. Beverly had prepared breakfast for the two of them, a bowl of cereal for her and a [y/f/b] for Y/n.

Beverly smiled warmly, welcoming her back, but her eyes fell to Y/n’s ankle and she winced.

“We really need to get you some proper bandages,” She eased.

Y/n looked down at her leg to see the once white cloth was stained a deep crimson color and she sighed, looking back at Bev who offered a weak smile.

A yawn escaped her lips and Y/n felt a twinge of guilt for keeping her friend up all night. Beverly recognized the look on her face and she smiled.

“Don’t worry, Y/n it’s fine. Let’s just have our breakfast and then we’ll get you some proper supplies at the pharmacy. I was planning on making a trip there today anyway. You can come with me,”

×××

Stan, Richie, Eddie, and Bill were treading the edge of the water, Bill in the lead towards the sewers. Stan was gesturing all around him, a sure frown on his face.

“That’s poison ivy. And that’s poison ivy. And that’s poison ivy.”

“Where?” Eddie looked around, watching his step. “Where’s the poison ivy?”

“Nowhere,” Richie remarked. “Not every fucking plant is poison ivy, Stanley.”

Bill and Richie stepped into the large cement mouth of the sewer tunnels, Eddie and Stan refusing to cross the threshold. Eddie was shifting on his feet, growing antsy.

“Okay, I’m starting to get itchy now, and - and I’m pretty sure this is not good for my–”

“Do you use the same bathroom as your mother?” Richie quipped, cutting Eddie off.

“Sometimes, yeah.”

“Then you probably have crabs.”

“That’s so not funny.”

The flashlights crawled along the walls of the slimy sewer tunnel and Richie turned around to face his two hesitant friends.

“Aren’t you guys coming in?”

Eddie took one look at the murky water and shook his firmly. “Uh-uh. It’s greywater.”

“What the hell’s greywater?”

“It’s basically piss and shit. So I’m just telling you, you guys are splashing around in millions of gallons of Derry pee. So…”

The stick Richie had been carrying was swirled around the water before he brought it up to his face. He took a big whiff and Eddie used all his strength not to gag.

“Are you series? What are you-?”

“Doesn’t smell like caca to me señor!” Richie retorted in an accent.

“Okay, I can smell that from here.”

Richie smiled a toothy grin. “It’s probably just your breath wafting back into your face.”

Eddie scoffed heavily, shaking his head in disbelief and he tried desperately to contain his frustration. “Have you ever heard of a staph infection?”

Amused as ever, Richie grinned, waving the stick towards his friend. “Oh, I’ll show you a staph infection.”

“This is so unsanitary. You’re literally-”

The continued to bicker further and Stan rolled his eyes, already fed up with them.

“This is literally like swimming inside of a toilet bowl right now,”

Still grinning, Richie picked something up from the water with his stick and waved it around.

“Have you ever heard of Listeria? AHH” Eddie screamed in terror and jumped back slightly when Richie launched the sopping wet piece of garbage at Eddie.

He snickered at the boy’s reaction, and Eddie launched into another lecture. Bill, who was the deepest in the tunnels, had found a shoe floating in the water.

“Guys!”

The boys stopped bickering and looked to their friend. He was holding the shoe illuminating the dripping shoe with his flashlight.

Stan grew grave, and his voice broke as he spoke. “Shit. Don’t tell me that’s…”

“No. G-Georgie wore galoshes.”

Richie had joined Bill’s side and he peered inside the shoe.

“Who’s sneaker is it?” Eddie asked.

Richie turned, and looked back at his friend, trying to hide his shock. “It’s Betty Ripsom’s,”

An uneasy and solemn silence fell over them. All sense of mischief and jokes forgotten. Eddie let out a shaky breath.

“Oh, shit. Oh, God. Oh, fuck!” Stan watched quietly, silently shutting down and Eddie was still trying to cope with the discovery. “I don’t like this.”

Richie, who always reverted to humor as his coping mechanism, did just that.

“How do you think Betty feels?” He stood on one foot and hopped a couple of times. “Running around these tunnels with only one frickin’ shoe?”

Richie stopped when he saw the serious and frightened faces on his friends and he knew he went too far. At that moment, Stan spoke up, his voice wavering.

“What if she’s still here?”

V No one answered, but Bill and Richie retreated farther in the tunnels.

“Eddie, come on!” Richie urged.

“My mom will have an aneurysm, okay, if she finds out that we’re playing down here. I’m serious.”

Bill hadn’t acknowledged what anyone had said, this attention still focused on the murky waters below.

“Bill?”

He turned around a sad look in his eyes.

“If… If I was Betty Ripsom, I would want us to find me.” They all shifted uncomfortably. “G-Georgie too.”

Eddie, who couldn’t contain his discomfort, shakily spoke up.

“What if I don’t want to find them?”

Everyone looked to Eddie, shocked. Not surprised that he felt that way, but that he brought it up. Like some unspoken thought, they all had in the back of their minds.

“I mean, no offense, Bill, but I don’t want to end up like…” The name Georgie almost rolled off his tongue, and he shook his head feeling guilty. “I don’t want to go missing either.”

“He has a point,” Stan added.

“Y-y-you too?”

“It’s summer. We’re supposed to be having fun. This isn’t fun. This is scary and disgusting.”

The four of them gasped when a figure collapsed outside in the water. Stan and Eddie whirled around to see a boy gasping for breath on his hands and knees. He attempted to get back up but he fell once more. It looked as if this was the first time in a long while he had stopped to catch his breath. It was Ben Hanscom, but they knew him as the new kid.

Richie peered out of the tunnel.

“Holy shit! What happened to you?”

×××

“I think it’s great we’re helping the new kid but we also need to think of our own safety.”

The five boys emerged from the forest, there bikes bouncing slowly on the grassy terrain before descending onto the pavement. Ben had been offered the backseat of Bill’s bike, and the rest trailed behind as they made their way to the pharmacy downtown. As usual, Eddie was informing the group of the possible dangers of their current situation.

“I mean, he’s bleeding all over and you guys know that there’s an AIDS epidemic happening right now as we speak, right? And my mom’s friend in New York City got it by touching a dirty pole on the subway. And a drop of AIDS blood got into his system through a hangnail. A hangnail!”

The gang was now halfway to the pharmacy and despite his rapid speech patterns, his rant had lasted the majority of the trip.

By the time they reached the alley outside the pharmacy, Eddie was wrapping up.

“…and you can amputate legs and arms. But how do you amputate a waist? How do you amputate a waist? You guys do know that alleys are known for dirty needles that have AIDS, right? You guys do know that?”

Like their knack for tuning out Richie’s trash mouth, the rest of them had a knack for tuning out Eddie’s medical rants.

They parked their bikes in the alley, and Ben took a seat on some wooden crates, leaning against the brick wall.

“Ah, we’re screwed,” Mumbled Stan.

Bill and the others began retreating down the alleyway.

“Richie, stay wait here. Come on,”

Richie stood awkwardly with Ben, and he chuckled weakly.

“Glad I got to meet you before you died.”

Ben looked up at Richie, unimpressed with his joke and Richie shifted uneasily. And the unlikely duo waited in silence. Inside the pharmacy, Bill and Stan fell back, letting Eddie take the wheel. He grabbed nearly everything he could reach and in a few seconds, had a small pile packed against his chest.

Meanwhile, Stan and Bill had scoured their pockets for money, but all the two had managed to scrounge together was a measly three dollars.

“Can we afford all that?” Bill asked, referring to the small mountain of medical supplies Eddie was holding.

Stan held up the three dollar bills in his hands and shrugged. “It’s all we got.”

“You kidding me?” Eddie sighed, disappointed.

“Wait, you have an account here, don’t you?” Bill asked hopefully.

Eddie gave his friend an incredulous look.

“If my mom finds out I bought all this stuff, I’m spending the whole rest of the weekend in the hospital getting x-rayed.”

Two isles over Beverly stood facing the wall of feminine hygiene products. Y/n appeared from around the corner holding a small plastic bag of gauze and bandages that she had just paid for. She joined her friend’s side, noticing the indecisiveness in Bev and she quickly scanned the shelves. She finally found the familiar brand and grabbed a box off the shelf and handed it to Beverly. She took it and looked to Y/n.

“If you’re looking for comfort, this one’s your best best bet.” She whispered, smiling weakly.

Bev breathed a sigh of relief and sent her a grateful glance. Together, the two girls began treading towards the end of the aisle and around the corner. They both froze when they heard a familiar voice.

“See you later, Dad.”

They caught a glimpse of Gretta at the opposite end, closing up her bag and the two girls quickly shuffled to the safety of the next aisle before Gretta could spot them. Except for Y/n, who moved in more of a quick hobble.

They rounded the corner and found themselves face to face with three familiar faces. Beverly instinctively shoved the box of tampons behind her back before they could notice it. And Y/n had realized why the boys were so familiar.

One of them, she realized, was completely fixated on her. The smaller boy who held several first aid supplies held to his chest and when he saw her, a roll of medical tape slipped from his hand. But his wide eyes never left her.

Everyone stood there awkwardly for a moment before Eddie broke the silence. He smiled nervously at her and shifted a bit on his feet.

“Hey, uh, hi! I remember you, how’s the le-gaaahh…” his words spilled into a messy gasp as his eyes landed on her ankle.

By now, the makeshift white bandage was stained completely red, and it looked as if no more blood could possibly be soaked up.

Eddie tried desperately not to gag, though it was very difficult for him.

Bill looked between both girls before his eyes fell on Y/n’s leg, but he tried not to stare.

“Are y-you guys, okay?”

Beverly quickly responded, looking between Y/n and the boys, eager to divert attention away from the ox she held behind her.

“We just came to get supplies for her leg, that’s it. What’s wrong with you?”

“None of your business,” Stan snapped, sensing her abrasiveness.

“There’s a kid outside. Looked like someone killed him.”

During the whole conversation, Eddie had looked at Beverly maybe once. His attention focused on Y/n, and all his energy went towards not looking at her ankle.

“W-we need s-s-some supplies, but we don’t have enough money,” Bill said sadly.

Beverly frowned the familiar sinking feeling in her stomach. She didn’t want to, but she knew she had to. It was the only way she could think of distracting him and helping the boys. She looked anxiously at Mr. Keene and sighed. She gave one look at Y/n and lowered her voice.

“Go with them, or wait outside at least. I’ll be right out,”

Y/n recognized the look in her best friend and she quickly shook her head.

“Beverly, you don’t have to do this,” she whispered.

“Just go, I’ll be fine.”

Beverly took off past the boys and headed to the counter.

“Bev,” she hissed, but she ignored her.

Instinctively, she tried to follow her friend but she hissed in pain when she put pressure on her leg.

The boys immediately noticed her pain and Bill took a few steps forward, ready to catch her if she fell.

She caught herself before that could happen and Eddie shifted on his feet nervously.

“Do you need help with your ankle? I know first aid and I could help you after I helped the new kid?”

“Ew,” Y/n groaned, cringing.

Eddie tried to mask his hurt unsuccessfully, he looked down to his feet and his cheeks turned pink.

“A simple no would have sufficed, Jesus,” he mumbled.

“What? Oh,” she shook her head, “no, It’s Mr. Keene, ”

Y/n frowned, gesturing to Beverly at the counter.

Mr. Keene was looking Bev up and down, hungrily. The way he was smiling at her made her nauseous.

“Oh…” Eddie turned around to see what she was talking about, and Stan and Bill did too. “Oh.”

They watched Bev take off his glasses of her face, folding them up. While handing them back she “accidentally” knocked over the small shelf of cigarettes. Mr. Keene smiled weakly and bent over to pick them up.

“Come on, let’s go,” Y/n whispered quickly.

She was backing up, gesturing for the boys to follow her. But they were still staring at Beverly in shock.

“Now! Come on!” She hissed under her breath.

Beverly grabbed a pack of cigarettes that had landed on the counter, and Y/n realized the boys were never gonna figure it out in time.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” rolling her eyes, she grabbed two of their wrists, her grocery bag hooked on one finger and began pulling them towards the door.

Beverly cast a glance over her shoulder, to see Y/n dragging the boys away.

The boys stumbled out of the aisle, tripping over themselves in the process. Y/n was dragging Eddie and Bill by their wrists and Stan had caught on. Eddie was taken aback, but he was mostly distracted by the fact that he was dropping his supplies left and right.

“Jesus, you’d think you never saw a distraction before in your lives,” Y/n sighed, releasing the boys.

Eddie scoffed, making a face implying he was going to say something but instead, he awkwardly looked away, words failing him.

“Alright, well…?” she looked between the three boys expectantly, they were all staring at her, waiting to see what she had to say.

She raised her eyebrows, not believing they had already forgotten about the injured kid.

“The kid? Bleeding out somewhere? We gonna help him or what?”

Shock washed over them and Eddie and Stan took off around the corner, and Y/n followed. Bill walked after them to the alley, seeming to linger by the entrance to the store to wait for Bev.

Y/n hobbled down the alley and by the time she got there Eddie was already knelt down in front of Ben. He was riling through his supplies, and Ben lifted his shirt.

Y/n noticed Richie Tozier had been waiting with the injured boy. Poor kid, she thought. When Richie saw her, he adjusted his glasses and smiled smugly.

“Hey, toots!”

Y/n plastered on an obviously fake smile and tilted her head. “Hey, dick.”

Letting the name roll off his back he smiled, Richie clicked his tongue and winked. “That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

Despite her annoyance, a small chuckle escaped her mouth and she rolled her eyes. She was now looking at the kid who sat on some crates, the small boy tending to his wound. She winced, and took a seat next to him, relieved to get off her bad ankle.

“So,” she said simply, drawing the boy’s attention. “Whatcha in for?”

He tilted his head, clearly confused. She extended her bad leg and pointed to it.

“Bad leg,”

The boy’s eyes widened slightly and he looked back to her. “Some gnarly cuts. What about you?”

“Oh, uh, well same I guess.” He said, and she nodded.

"Just suck the wound.“ The two looked up to see Richie who addressed the smaller boy.

He immediately grew impatient, trying desperately not to get distracted.

"I really need to focus right now.”

“You need to focus?”

“Yeah, can you go get me something?”

“Jesus! What do you need?”

“Go get my bifocals. I hid ‘em in my second fanny pack.”

Y/n leaned forward, interested and slightly amused. “You have a second fanny pack?”

The other boy, who was standing near her nodded. “Yeah, why do you have two?”

“I need to focus right now and it’s a long story. I don’t want to get into it.”

Bill, who had been lingering at the end of the alley, heard the jingle of the store bell and he stepped back out on the sidewalk. Beverly was leaving the store and she walked towards him, knowing her friend must be nearby. Bill could have sworn timed slowed when she smiled. Nervously, Bill reached into his pocket, pulling out a couple of dollars and offered it to her.

“T-t-thanks.”

She held up a pack of smokes and winked. “Even stephen.”

Her attention was drawn to the voices coming from the alley.

“Oh, God, he’s bleeding! Oh, my God!” It was Stanley.

She saw Y/n and the boys crowded around a familiar face, she smiled fondly and headed their way. “Ben from soch?”

“You have to suck the wound before you apply the Band-Aids. This is 101!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Ben looked up from the bickering duo and at the figure walking down the alley. His pulse quickened ever so slightly at the beautiful sight of Beverly Marsh.

“Are you okay?” She asked worriedly as she approached them. “That looks like it hurts.”

Ben shifted nervously and smiled. “Oh. No, I’m good. I just fell.”

Richie scoffed. “Yeah, right into Henry Bowers.”

Bill panicked, and shushed the boy, much to Beverly’s confusion. Y/n grew curious too.

“Why? It’s the truth.” Richie defended.

Beverly took a step forward, smiling coyly at Ben. “You sure they got the right stuff to fix you up?”

She winked and Ben felt his heart might explode. He smiled bashfully and looked down at the ground.

At that moment, the smaller boy had finished tending to him and had moved over to face Y/n’s leg. She hadn’t been paying attention and was surprised when she felt a tug on the cloth and she hissed in pain, drawing everyone’s attention.

Eddie hesitated and looked up at her apologetically. “Oh, sorry. This is okay, right? That I do this? It’s just that right now you’re exposing yourself to hundreds and thousands of bacteria and infection and this really needs to be checked out, so unless you’re on your way to the hospital anytime time soon, I really think I-”

Y/n chuckled and nodded her head, cutting him off.

“Yes! Yes, it’s okay. I’d really appreciate it,” she smiled warmly, growing fond of this kid already. “I’m Y/n, by the way. Y/n L/n.”

He nodded his head and for a moment he forgot how to speak. “Uh, Y/- Eddie. Eddie. I’m, Eddie. Kaspbrak.”

Amused, she watched Eddie get to work. She heard him mutter something about how he should have grabbed latex gloves, and he gagged when he pulled the cloth off her leg. Everyone’s attention was pulled back to her and Eddie when he held the blood-soaked cloth far away from himself. Tossing it a few feet away from himself, they heard it land on the pavement with a sopping wet slap.

Everyone, save for Beverly and Y/n, were shocked to see her actual wound. And poor Eddie looked as if he would faint.

“Oh, my God! Oh, my-”

“Holy, fuck!”

“S-s-shit,”

“That’s why we came here. All we could find was that cloth.”

“Oh my God, where’s the gauze?” He looked to Richie in a panic. “Where’s the fucking gauze?”

“Here take mine,” Y/n shoved her grocery bag at him and he took it gladly.

He unwrapped the gauze and applied several strips to her leg in order to cover each cut. She leaned down, placing her hand on some of them to keep them in place for him while he unwrapped the bandages.

“W-what happened anyway?” Bill looked between Y/n and Beverly.

Bev shrugged, and Y/n grew quiet, her eyes shifting around. “cat,”

Beverly frowned, clearly not buying it, knowing there wasn’t any cat around when I happened. Y/n met her eye, giving her. a look that screamed “Just please go with it,” And Bev let it go, for now.

“What kind of cat could’ve done that?” Asked the boy with curly hair.

Before Y/n could make up a lie, Richie jumped in, scoffing. “The bullshit kind, that’s what.”

Y/n gave him a weak glare, letting her eyes fix on her leg as it was being wrapped up.

“Thank you, Eddie.”

“Sure thing.” He was just finishing up applying the special ace bandage tape from her bag. “You’re all set.”

She gave him a warm smile and stood, wincing less. She smiled at the feeling. “It feels better already. Thanks again.”

He nodded and stood to his feet.

“Well, I guess we better get going.” Y/n said looking at Bev, who nodded.

“Uh, t-thanks again, Beverly,” Bill said, referring to her distraction.

She smiled. “Sure. Maybe we’ll see you around.”

“Y-yeah, we were thinking about on-going to the q-q-quarry tomorrow,” he looked to Eddie briefly with a smirk, before returning his gaze to the two girls. “if you guys wanna come.”

“Good to know. Thanks.” She replied.

Y/n joined Beverly by her side, her bag of supplies she had retrieved in hand, and smiled. “Yeah, maybe we’ll see you guys there.”

Her eyes landed on Eddie and he stood to his feet, much too fast. A pink hue dusting his cheeks. Y/n shared a nod with Beverly and the two were off, both of them casting a glance and wave at the group of boys before disappearing around the corner.

Stanley turned quickly on Richie. “Nice going bringing up Bowers in front of Beverly.”

“Yeah, dude, you heard what she did.”

Ben, who had remained silent on the cartons, spoke up curiously. “What’d she do?”

Richie smirked. “More like 'Who’d she do?’ From what I hear, the list is longer than my wang.”

“That’s not saying much.” Stan retorted, rolling his eyes.

Bill jumped in, his stutter got stronger. “T-t-they’re j-just rumors.”

“Anyway,” Richie continued, addressing Ben. “Bill had her back in third grade. They kissed in the school play. The reviews said you can’t fake that sort of passion.”

Ben’s heart sank, not in the least bit intrigued. And his sudden somber went completely unnoticed by the bickering boys. And somehow, all of them failed to notice the new figure painted behind the tire in the mural of the Bradley gang behind them. It was the pale white face of a clown, with a big crooked smile, and large tufts of orange hair and beady yellow eyes, right where Y/n’s head had been. It had been watching all of them.

+++

@seasidecrowbar @bevxmarsh @supernovawriting @readyforitbitch @classiprincess @edsloveshisrichie @sivords @ravenclawsprincess @pigwidgexn @kricketwritesstories @sweetpeasserpentprincess23 @plum-duels @edmunds-torch @eddiegaykaspbrak @rosi3e @welcome-to-derry @beepbeep-pennywise @candycorntroll @bibliophilesquared @ongaku-ato-kakikomi @cocastyle @peachysinnermon @mochibarnes @captainshazamerica @kaitlynjones12 @songbird-writes @traceylader @eggytozier @annimalq @lexylovesfandoms @russian-romanova @paigey-mcfreedomly

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peachymess · 5 years ago

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hi! your art is fantastic! i was wondering - how long does it take for you to finish an art work?

Thank you! ^^

And it varies greatly. Speed is my biggest obstacle when it comes to art. I could lie and say I doodle out stuff in an hour – or I could call half bad drawings I spent hours on, a “doodle”. Sometimes I think I do – but for me, “doodle” is more about how seriously I took the job. If I throw down lines and squiggles and do some line-arting on top without really caring about the details, that’s a doodle to me, even if I then proceed to spend hours on correcting lines, getting the colors right, and trying out different filters for every experimental shadow.

Over all, I spend a lot of time on drawing, and I mean a lot. But I’m getting better! They say you’ve gotta make 50 bad pieces for every good one (simplified, but you get the gist), so you’re best served not spending days on every piece. What I’ve found helps, is to not get overly invested in every piece. It’s a little sad, because you gotta have your heart in the art, right? Yeah. But that heart should be in your love for the craft and your enjoyment in performing it; not in one specific piece and its need to be perfect. Sure, some pieces are special, but if you can’t distinguish between your magnum opus and just your average drawing, every single drawing will feel equally important to you, and that will slow you down from the sheer weight of it.

Pro tip I wish someone would have told me a long time ago: nobody looks as closely at your drawings as you do (talking about the general public; loving friends might).

In other words, painfully slaving over details you find only when you zoom in,… ant nobody gonna tell the difference. Unless you’re insanely good and got 50K on insta, aint nobody gonna zoom in on all your work and look for the easter eggs you put in there (@me, lol). Learn what’s important to spend time on, and what can be left alone. If I had been given back all the time I’ve wasted on details that nobody even sees… I could have made a lot more art lol.

Learn what matters – like general proportions, interesting expression, big things that people could pick out from a distance. And story! Oh boy, don’t get me started on story! Unless you’re really good, people usually won’t be impressed with just a head shot with no story. Armin smiling generically into the void in ¾ view, no background?

“Cool. But I’ve seen a million generic Armins like it. Why should I be invested in this one in particular?”

Say something with your art, make me feel or think something. Because with so many good artists out there, it’s hard to get ahead on just the aesthetics alone. Make a joke. Show something mid-action (like someone slipping on a banana peel; instantly more engaging than a static pose that tells no story).

Why am I being so harsh? It all ties back to speed… Once you realize that your pieces, generally, aren’t that big of a deal, you can hopefully put aside some of that anxiety over it having to be perfect. It doesn’t have to be, and the details you spend an extra two days on will rarely matter to anyone but yourself (which is ok, I just want you to be aware. If you’re very proud of something, maybe point it out to invite people to pay attention to it. But otherwise, they probably won’t look at your drawing for that long before deciding to reblog or move on). If you enjoy making those details, please go ahead! Art should be about what YOU like to do, at the end of the day. But if your speed ties into your perceived self-worth, like it does with me,… well, I got a lot faster once I realized that nobody really cares all that strongly. (Though, I’m in no way discrediting all the support and love I receive, guys, thank you – truly. I’m talking in the grand scheme of things. Art is a lot more personal to the artist, than to the random scroller-by).

How many of you would stop being my friend or suddenly dislike me just because I draw Armin with a wonky nose and disproportionate arms sometimes? Yeah, no, if I put out an unfortunate piece, so what? (Hell, if I can tell a funny joke with it, you might even enjoy it all the same!) Once I learned to understand that every piece is not a blaring spotlight on me where all eyes will be on me and my mistakes, I got faster.

… and with that insanely long prologue, here’s how much time I generally spend:

The first art I started (in 2016), took over a year to finish.

Though, in the meantime, I think I put out a “doodle”. I call it a doodle because I intentionally simplified the anatomy so it would be easier to make – but this one still took me four months to finish!

(The above images took me a year, and 4 months respectively).

In other words, in 2016, my average was MONTHS – on just one drawing! Keep in mind, I quit art for ten years before this, just from how much anxiety is gave me over my self worth (if I made one bad line, it meant I was worthless).

In 2017, I think my average was weeks. I had to take breaks between sessions a lot just to cope with the building anxiety. I look at the finished products now and I think “look how few steps this needed. With how much time I spent, I must have averaged one single brush stroke an hour”. And it’s probably about right. Although, I did manage to finish one drawing in a single day, and I remember being really proud of that!

(Above, the first one is an example of stuff I’d tinker with for weeks, while the second one is the one I completed in a day due to it being his birthday and the pressure was on to get it done)

In 2018, I think my average was 2 or 3 days. I put out more smaller pieces, stuff that doesn’t need to be as elaborate. At my peak, I think I could do two of those meme-things per day. Looking back, though, I can see a clear difference between time spent on “doodles” and time spent on projects I put my heart into. I spent days on the eremin week entries, for example. This was the year I started to learn to tier my projects.

(The above shows an art I admittedly spent over a week on, much thanks to the needless details in the bottles, while the second is one of two pieces I completed during one day)

In 2019, I don’t think I shortened down my average a lot, but looking through my gallery now, I see that I started doing more elaborate pieces. So… if I spend as long as before, but get bigger and better content out of it, that’s improvement too!

(Above you’ll see an art that probably took me a couple of days - 4 or 5 maybe? - and the second once which took me an hour I think? A good example of how much better i’ve gotten at tiering projects and not being afraid of making sloppy art just for the fun of it).

So far in 2020, I’ve only drawn for Armin week, and I spent an evening to a day on each one of them. After finishing one, I’d uploading it to my drafts, then lie in bed and scrutinize it, zooming in, looking and looking. Then the next morning, I’d get up and spend an average of an hour fixing/editing them because I was getting increasingly displeased with them. So I think on average… god honest truth, even if I’m a little self-conscious about it, I think I spend an average of 8 - 18 sitting hours on anything. This includes the revisions.

(Above you’ll see the entry I spent the most time on first - I’m guessing probably 12 sitting hours - and the one I spent the least time on - I’m guessing 5 hours)

I love drawing, but it’s very hard for me. I’ve used drawing as my main source of personal self-improvement for the last couple of years - for many reasons; it has a lot of lessons to teach me. It’s not always fun, and it’s rarely easy. But.. uh. It’a been worth it? I don’t know what your art journey is, but I hope this gave you some help, inspiration or comfort. Good luck and draw with heart, not fear.

#art #personal #drawing #art struggles

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dailyaudiobible · 4 years ago

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03/03/2021 DAB Transcript

Leviticus 27:14- Numbers 1:54, Mark 11:1-26, Psalms 46:1-11, Proverbs 10:23

Today is the 3rd day of March welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I am Brian it is wonderful to be here with you today as we continue the journey that we began what feels like a long time ago but was…wasn't although we are a couple of months into the journey. So, we are indeed well on our way. So, let's dive in today's reading today. And today is a bit of a special day. We are going to conclude the book of Leviticus and move forward into the next book, which was…which is called numbers and we will talk about that when we get there. But first, the last words of Leviticus, which is chapter 27 verse 14 through verse 34.

Introduction to the book of Numbers:

Okay. So, that concludes the book of Leviticus which brings us to be shiny brand-new first page and first chapter of a brand-new book called Numbers. And as we get into numbers it's going to sound like similar territory, maybe even territory that we've already covered, like this is redundant in some ways, but it's important to understand what’s happened because we’re turning the page here. We just finished Leviticus but we’re zooming forward in time a bit. And now we are at a time when the first generation is passing to the second generation of people who have left Egypt. So, this happened under Moses leadership. They've…they’ve seen God show up and miraculously provide for them, they’ve seen His mighty power and they’ve…they’ve received the law, but now that they've received it they have to actually live it, because God is giving the order to move out. It’s actually time. The time has come. They’ve been around Mount Sinai. They have the law and now it's time for them to go into the Promised Land. And we’ll see that spies get sent into the land to scope it out and we’ll see what their report is and it's an unfortunate situation because it disqualifies an entire generation and keeps them in the desert when it was time. Like we are literally opening the book of Numbers and it's time to go into the promised land. We’re just not gonna make it there. Not yet. So, the first nine chapters of numbers are going to provide review and structure because God is…is preparing the people to move out and move into the promised land and then we’ll see censuses being taken, additional laws being given, review of all the laws, we’ll see things like purification's and celebrations and then we’ll move into the story of the spies going across the Jordan into the promised land to spy it out. And we’ll take it from there until the end, as the first generation of slaves out of Egypt that were being formed in the deserts die off. And, so, let’s begin, numbers chapter 1.

Commentary:

Okay. So, we have transitioned into the book of Numbers and we’re just getting going there and we kind of flew over that to understand some context, just some of the lay of the land that’s out in front of us and what we’ll be covering. And, so, we did. We counted…we counted all of the people today, all of the people, all of the men prepared for battle that could go to war. It’s over 600,000 of them. This is all in preparation to move out and toward the promised land. Like that's the plan. We need to remember that. That's the plan. What’s supposed to happen now that they have received the law is that they're supposed to get information and march into the promised land and establish this culture while learning to live into the law. There are some unfortunate turns of events that prevent that happening straightaway. And as we watch what happens here, we need to be looking at our own lives as well because everybody has the wilderness, everybody has the wilderness in their lives. But maybe we spend a lot more time in the wilderness then we ever needed too.

And then in the gospel of Mark we are entering Jerusalem again. And, so, we’re very near to experiencing Jesus arrest and His Last Supper and His trial and execution again. And we are in a season now where we really are focusing on this, this season of Lent and we talked about that a couple of weeks ago when Lent began. And…and actually it's a month from today that Lent ends because a month from tomorrow will be Easter Sunday. So, we’re in the thick of it and this is that season when we really, really try to take to heart what’s going on in the Scriptures. It…it can't just be that Sunday school story, the Jesus died on the cross and then He rose then practically the next day. Like we need to embrace the story, the larger story, that separation between man and God is being eliminated, that restoration is becoming possible, that the final sacrifice is being given once and for all according to the Scriptures. We also need to deeply lament and contemplate that sin leads to destruction. And all we need to do is look at our lives, like a look at the story that our lives have been telling and we can see those times where we’ve gone off the rails and it has led to very destructive things and it always will. We sit with that. We open our hands and hearts and invite God to move things around, move things out, take people out move things in, bring in people, and rearrange the furniture. Whatever it needs, whatever our lives need, however they need to be rearranged so that as we approach Easter Sunday we really approach it with fantastic rejoicing that all things have been made new, that we didn’t just kind of move through it really quick and dress up pretty on Sunday and just hunt for Easter eggs and then move through, that we actually took the time in the season before Easter to lament and hold in our hands and hearts the weight and cost of sin, so that when we…when we celebrate the resurrection we celebrate it with this brand-new awareness that we are free from the curse of sin and death unless we willingly participate.

Prayer:

Jesus as we move into this territory in the gospel of Mark and as we continue to move through this season where we’re really contemplating this, come Holy Spirit, come Holy Spirit and show us the areas that still need work, things that need to be rearranged, things that need to be let go of. We can't do this without You. We can do this with You, and You are not withholding Yourself. We are just not paying attention but we’re paying attention now. Come Holy Spirit we pray. In the name of Jesus, we ask. Amen.

Announcements:

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And that's it for today. I’m Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hey Daily Audio Bible family this is Stephanie in Bangalore and I am calling partly because Daniel Johnson Junior you nailed some of exactly how I'm feeling about asking for help. And it's not anything that I can ask for help…physical help with, but family I do need your prayers. Those who have been listening since last year may remember that my husband and I are both a little older and we did…we were pregnant at this point last year and we last the baby on March 9th. We’re actually going to have a little prayer memorial service with our families that day this year Lord willing, but the grief is still there, and I know many of you understand that grief. And the grief that God has not yet chosen to give us a child…another child is there as well. So, please just pray for us as we, you know, seek to do a God wants us to do and also walk through this time of grief and uncertainty and…and everything. It also would be really great if I could go see my family this year. I haven't seen them in over a year and I’m very close with them. And yeah. Anyway, thanks for being there. Hopefully I'll call back soon with some encouragement for others. Bye.

Good afternoon Daily Audio Bible family this is Adrian from Washington DC. Today is February 27th and I have been meaning to call in for a while, but I've been putting it off. You know, I…I just wanted to openly the thank God for what happened last year, not necessarily the pandemic. But the shortened version was in July of last year I got sick and I wasn't feeling well and the last thing I remember was climbing into my sister’s bed and turning on the air conditioner because I was hot. And the next thing I know when I wake up and I'm in a hospital and I have been in a hospital from July 19th until…well the 23rd, that's when I woke up. And even after all that I still had a lot…a long way to go. I was transferred to multiple hospitals and dealing with multiple issues but I finally came home September 1st and March 1st will be six months since I've been home and I've made amazing progress to…progress because of a lot of amazing people and I thank them for that but I really just need to thank God because He had His hand on me the entire time, He had His hand on my family the entire time until I came home and I could not have possibly have made it without Him. So, I, like I said, I'm finally…I'm saying it out loud, saying it to my other family , thank You Lord for everything that You have done for me, everything that You have done to get me to this point where I can now walk a mile and I’m back…I've been…I've been back at work since last September, but I'm doing some of the things that I did before I got sick. Thank you, family. I love you.

Good morning my name is Vicki from Southern Oregon. And, you know, I think I came up with the name too, it's Soul Shine, not because it does but because that is what I'm hoping God is doing for me. I called in a few months ago and I'm calling for a praise report. I want to thank you, everybody that prayed for me and my son. My son has been taken to the state hospital. He’s severely mentally ill, schizophrenic and also has an addiction problem. And, you know, there's a window of opportunity for him to get help which is, you know, I know it's funny to call it a praise report when your son is in the state mental hospital but help…help is hard to find and hard fought. So, thank you for everyone that prayed for him and I pray that God will continue to work in his life and give him the freedom from his addiction and from his mental illness and that he will understand that the medications are helping him not harming him. Again, I thank everybody that prayed. Thank you, Brian for be here…being here.

Hello DAB family this is Rob still Worship Dude in Nashville. It's been a while since I've called in. I don't really have anything dramatic that I'm asking for. I just wanted to touch base. I've been listening to…for this…for gosh over 10 years. And I just want to say thank God, thank you for the DAB. Thank you for the community, thank you for the people who call in to pray, for those who engage with the prayers, for those who intercede for the prayer requests that have come in. We thank you Lord that you are omniscient, you are omnipotent, you are an omnipresent God, you are all knowing, you are all powerful, you are everywhere God. There is nothing that is too hard for you. And Lord as this great cacophony of prayers of intercession Lord arises around the world Lord, I thank you for this tool, this resource of the DAB Lord to just join the body of Christ together Lord. Would you release…would you release the spirit of unity amongst us as we bear one another's burdens Lord. We just recognize that you are doing a new thing. You are always doing a new thing Lord and Lord we stand together, and we ask that your Kingdom would come, your will would be done, that you would fill the earth with the glory of your presence. Father I thank you so much for the DAB, for Brian Hardin, for the amazing insightful and inspiring commentaries that you continue to share with us through him. Bless his team, bless all who support the DAB. Father I thank you that you are working on our behalf. We trust you. We love you and we bless you in Jesus’ name. God bless you guys.

Hello from beautiful Cincinnati OH this is Daniel Johnson Junior. One second while I throw another log on the Global Campfire here. So, it is the evening of February 28th 2021…2021. It's really been amazing because I've been journaling since the end of April, you know, journaling consistently and I was thinking back to like…like I like…for the shortest month of the entire year, February seems like it’s the longest. And I think that it's probably because we're far enough removed from the holiday season and the beginning of the year but not yet, you know, ready for the next season change that we really look forward to. And it just has been kind of wearisome, you know, to be present in this…in this month and kind of also just wondering if I had actually gotten anything done. Well, because of my journaling and I…one of my process that I have set up here is a monthly review. And, so, I went back and I looked through and I was just thinking, I just…you know what, I didn't get some of the goals that I wanted to, like, you know, getting a job. I'm still unemployed. So, I didn't get a job but I was looking at all the other stuff that I did, all of the habits that I’ve been tracking and all of the progress that I had made and it was also actually very inspiring. So, I just wanted to encourage you guys, you know, as you've been thinking about journaling, to do that journaling because you're going to be able to see how much different you are many months down the road, many weeks down the road. And that's all that I have for you right now. God bless you all from beautiful Cincinnati OH Daniel Johnson Junior saying make it a great day.

[singing starts] you do not lie you do not fail what is hard for you to do it doesn't exist. It can never ever never exist. My Jesus you do not lie you do not fail what is hard for you to do doesn't exist. It can never ever exist though. I call into your knowledge and your will from me what you say you will do. I just need to align with because you are not a man that changes his mind. Those that know you will trust in you not in horses and chariot body and soul flesh no man can prevail no man no man no man. My confidence is you what is hard, what is hard for you it can never exist [singing stops]. My name is Helen I'm calling from Nigeria. I just want to use this song to encourage somebody out there that what God cannot do does not exist. It can never exist. So, whatever you're passing through today just have it in mind that you have a God that can do the impossible, that can do everything and what He cannot do it does not exist. I want to thank everyone here. I know I just joined the…the Daily Audio not quite long, recently. I've been listening to everyone. I want to say God bless you all. God bless you. Bless you all.

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