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hiddendreamer67 · 4 years ago

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Giant Mers are Good Mers

That's right, it's MerMay baby! Introducing my new bois. Caspian is a giant siren with influences of Mediterranean monk seals and leopard seals. Beckett is a lil' human who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. This piece is a completed oneshot, but I've got a couple ideas for more oneshots with this pairing, including a few ideas for alternate universes (especially after seeing all the fun @ibis-gt seems to be having with AUs of their bois).

Word count: 6,001

Initial prompt idea: human was taken by a giant siren but then let go (on a whim / siren got bored) but human doesn’t know why they were spared so they come back to thank the siren. The siren doesn’t even remember doing that because it was such an insignificant event to them, but now it’s interesting because humans never came on their own.

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Beckett had always been a simple fellow. He grew up in WhiteBridge, on a small town farm with his three older sisters picking on him ceaselessly. While he loved WhiteBridge and its quaint charms, Beck found his true passion in books, and studied at Oxford for several years before scouring the globe for his passion. In his quest for knowledge, Beckett chose to join a month-long excursion out at sea, and found himself regretting that decision a few weeks later.

“Steady on there.” One of the sailors, Michelle, handed him a pair of earplugs. “You’ll need these where we’re going.”

Beckett eyed the little pieces of foam dubiously. “And just where might that be?”

“Siren territory.”

Beck hardly believed in such fairy tales, but to calm the sailor’s superstitions he inserted the plugs as instructed. Siren tales aside, Beckett found himself growing as twitchy as the sailors. The coastline hadn’t been visible for ages due to a large amount of fog accumulation. The stormy skies were foreboding as well, indicating that proper precautions would need to be taken. This far north, the weather reports often indicated rocky waves far beyond what should be normal.

Would Beckett sink, out here in the middle of nowhere? Was that to be his fate? The young man began to fret, hastening to make himself useful as the first rolls of thunder sounded off and the waves grew steadily higher.

And then, he heard it. Beckett paused, arms slack on the rope as he attempted to hear that haunting melody. Was the weather playing tricks on him, or was someone calling out to him.

“BECK! EARS!”

Beckett blinked, stunned to find himself standing on the slippery railing. When did he get up here? Beck hastened to climb down, noticing the rest of the crew had their hands firmly clasped over their ears, even with the ear plugs inserted.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough. Even with the double protection, the voice grew in volume, its booming voice penetrating into their heads. Every single person on board fell victim to its call, the ship’s captain turning the wheel to head towards the beckoning beast. Beckett climbed back up to the railing, plunging overboard into the crashing waves.

With a sputter, Beckett fought to keep his breath, legs kicking desperately against the current. Even in his desperate survival state, the voice called to him, and instinctively Beckett swam in the right direction to answer its call.

Every time the voice paused to take a breath, Beck would regain control for only a moment, his heart pounding as his fate flashed before his eyes with nothing to be done about it. Between one blink and the next, the sky grew darker, a looming shape breaching in the distance. Another blink, and Beckett’s face lost all complexion staring up at his demise.

A great sea serpent, half man half beast, towered with its human half over the pitiful human. With a single shift of its body, the beast created waves that threatened to pull Beck under. Those sharp features and piercing blue eyes were unforgettable, and subconsciously Beck realized this was the last face he would ever see.

Another blink. This time, when the serpent let out a hum, Beckett remained conscious but still out of his own control. His body was lax but his mind manic. The siren reached for him, slimy claws surrounding his form and making Beck shudder as he was raised 50 feet in the air in seconds. Beckett whimpered, coughing out sea water as his gaze was drawn down to the siren’s lips. The creature grinned and revealed its razor-sharp fangs. Taking a deep breath in, the siren revealed the cavernous depths beyond as it prepared to inhale its next meal.

Beckett pleaded nonsense pitifully, tears pouring down his cheeks as the haunting nothingness washed over his mind yet again. Would he even wake once more? Was the beast merciful enough to let Beckett go in his sleep?

When Beckett woke up, he thought he was dead.

He squinted, the sun too bright for his eyes. The sun? What happened to the storm? Stranger yet, the water that had soaked him to the bone was no more. Beck was dry, wrapped in blankets in a stranger’s bed.

“You’re awake.”

Beckett turned his head, his sore muscles protesting the movement. Beside him sat an older looking fellow, hair greying with age. “Who’re you?”

“The name’s Seymour.” Seymour introduced himself. “And who’re you?”

“Beck.” Beckett’s voice felt like he hadn’t spoken in days. “Am I dead?”

“No, but you tried awful hard.” Seymour assured him. “Found you passed out on the shore two days ago. Guessin’ you were part of some shipwreck? Though there wasn’t much wreckage to be found. Awfully impressive for you to have swam that far.”

Is that what happened? Beck frowned, trying to parse out the details. His body ached something terrible. He did remember swimming for a great distance. Had the siren all been a strange vision of his adrenaline-infused thoughts?

“...huh.” Beck settled back into the pillows, looking up at the ceiling. “I… didn’t know I could do that.”

“Well that, or an angel saved you.” Seymour chuckled. “You’re one lucky soul.”

Beck squinted in thought. If that’s what angels looked like, he could understand why all biblical depictions had humans cowering in fear.

(...was it an angel?)

Beckett spent some of the most confusing weeks of his life recovering from the shipwreck. Even as his physical form healed, Beck couldn’t seem to wrap his mind around the events that transpired that night. He couldn’t get the notion out of his head that the giant sea serpent was real. It had all felt so lifelike, the claws and the fish breath and the dark melodious tones that haunted his dreams…

Seymour was kind enough to open his home to Beck, offering the traumatized lad a position maintaining his lighthouse while Beckett still fought to gather his wits. “Yer’ not the first.” Seymour assured him with a chuckle. “It’s no water off my back if you want to keep me company while you figure things out.”

You’re not the first. Beckett had cleared his throat, wanting to address that thought. “The other people who wash up on shore… did they ever… see anything?”

Seymour raised a patient eyebrow. “What do you mean, seen? Figure you lot have all seen a lot, what with the wreckage.”

“No, I mean, out at sea.” Beck felt foolish, twiddling his thumbs a bit. “Like a… like a merman.”

To his credit, Seymour did nothing more than a slow blink. “A merman.” He repeated.

“But, not a regular merman.” Beck winced at his own words. Just what was a regular merman? “A big one, like a hundred feet long, and pale white skin, and white locks of hair, and piercing blue eyes-”

“Kid.” Seymour cut him off. “I’ll tell it to ya straight. No, I ain’t ever heard nothing like that.”

Today, Beckett found himself on the cliffside, safely back from the edge as he watched the distant waves. His knees were tucked up to his chest, chin atop them as Beck sat lost in thought. Somewhere out there, Beckett’s giant captor- and later savior- was out there.

Why did the beast let him go? Even further than that, the siren had gone out of its way to give Beck a chance at life. There’s no way Beckett could have made it all the way to the shore on his own, disoriented as he had been.

Despite his better judgement, Beckett had to know the truth. With this foolish notion in mind, Beck set out a few months later, having rented a boat from one of the local fishermen. It took a lot of practice for Beckett to learn how to guide such a vessel, as every crest of a wave made the poor lad jump.

Seymour must think he was mad. Often the kind old man reminded Beckett that he didn’t have to conquer his fear of the waves directly, but Beck had just shook his head. Seymour couldn’t understand the debt Beck felt to the creature that had saved his life, and his curiosity kept him captive. Beckett wouldn’t be free until he had answers.

Of course, once he was out on the waters, Beck realized how foolish of a plan this truly was- he knew nothing about aquatic navigation. Every part of the ocean looked the same to him. Even worse, his memories of the last sea journey were extremely muddled. How on earth was he going to find the same location?

And even as Beck drifted in waters that may or may not be similar, the human realized he had no surefire way of gaining the siren’s attention. He settled for calling out often, hoping his carrying voice would be enough. Did the beast understand english? It was deceptively human-looking.

Beckett’s throat grew parched, and Beck sat down a moment to take careful sips of water from his dwindling bottle. The sky was growing darker, and a familiar fog had begun to roll in. An eerie chill began to creep up the back of Beckett’s neck. Suddenly, this plan wasn’t feeling so wise.

That’s when he heard it. The familiar song of his dreams was echoing across the water. Beck had forgotten the feeling, his limbs stiffening against his will like a marionette pulled taunt.

Blink. A gigantic fish tail, just the tip cresting the waves. Blink. Beckett found himself in the waves, gasping as he kicked frantically to keep his head above water. Blink. All too soon, Beck found himself clasped between those claws, water dripping from his locks as he stared at those terrifying chompers.

Oh god. This was a terrible idea. What should he do? What was there to do? All the blood left Beckett’s face, watching the siren lick its lips. It raised Beck higher, dangling the human by the back of his shirt above a now gaping maw. Beckett let out an unholy screech, realizing he had made a terrible mistake.

Beckett squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the words out of his lungs before he never got the chance again. “WHY DID YOU SPARE ME?!”

To Beck’s great relief, he didn’t find himself lowered onto the beast’s tongue. Instead, after the longest pause of Beckett’s life, he opened his eyes to see the siren’s mouth had gone slack.

“What?”

Beck’s eyebrows shot up into his scalp, shocked to hear the siren actually speak. Guess that meant it understood english, too. Beckett cautiously raised his gaze, meeting the siren’s eyes instead of its teeth. The creature looked confused, to say the least.

“You-” Beck cleared his throat, knowing he had to keep the siren’s attention lest he become a meal. “You spared me.” The siren’s brow furrowed further. Beckett frowned. “You… you saved my life? I mean, first you threatened it, but… 3 months ago? You- our ship, and the song, and… I woke up on the shore…”

Unfortunately, despite being the most momentous occasion of Beckett’s life, the giant sea serpent didn’t seem to have given the night a second thought. Beck couldn’t stop the sinking feel in his chest, knowing this whole journey was pointless after all.

The siren slowly shook his head. “That sounds unlike me.”

“It’s true!” Beckett insisted, especially because his life seemed to be on the line. “I was baffled too, but for some reason you spared me, and-and I don’t know why either! It’s been driving me insane. Why else would I sail all the way out here trying to find you?”

“You came looking for me?” This, at least, caused the siren to raise an interested eyebrow. “That would be a first.”

Beck nodded quickly. “Yes! I’ve been shouting for you all day. And before that I’ve been training for weeks, saving up for a downpayment to borrow Ben’s boat, which I’ll probably be losing now that I have no idea where that ended up…” Beckett grimaced, once again meeting the siren’s gaze. “Sorry, I’ve been told I have a tendency to sidetrack conversations in uncomfortable situations. Boat’s not important. Please don’t eat me.”

To both of their surprise, the siren let out an amused snort, the hot fishy air rustling Beck’s hair.

“I apologize for that.” The creature had the decency to look sheepish, even as its words curdled Beckett’s blood. “It’s nothing personal.”

“Wait, what?!” Beckett immediately began screeching, attempting to squirm out of the claws still holding him captive.

“Stop!” The siren hissed, his grip tightening painfully around Beck’s ribs. “You will fall with that behavior.”

Beck winced, continuing to struggle against the crushing appendages. “That was kind of the idea. I choose waves over teeth.”

“Waves over…?” The siren shook his head. “No, you misunderstand. I will not eat you.”

Beck found that hard to believe. He squinted, judging the gigantic face before him even as the pressure stayed tight around his chest. “So, you were going to?”

“Yes.”

“But now you’re not.”

“Yes.”

“...why?”

“Because you’re quite interesting, little human.” The siren admitted. “Your question confuses me. Do you want to be eaten?”

Beck chose wisely to avoid that question. “My name’s Beckett.” He said instead. “Beck, for short. Not little human, or anything.”

The siren blinked. It must be strange putting a name to your not-food. “My name is Caspian.”

Caspian. For some reason, Beck hadn’t actually pictured the siren having a name. Or talking. Or generally possessing much humanity at all… the self-reflection made him feel a bit guilty.

“It’s nice to meet you, Caspian.” Beck greeted. He glanced around, realizing the sun had finished setting. “Can we circle back to the boat issue? I mean, I’m glad this hasn’t ended fatally, but it is getting late.”

“Hold on.” Caspian frowned. “You spent all that effort to reach me, only to leave? Little Beck, your story has holes.”

“No, no no no.” Beck quickly shut that down, hastily trying to avoid any possibility of a vengeful siren. “No that’s not it at all. It’s just, your time must be very valuable, and I don’t want to intrude. And also, contrary to popular belief, I'm not a great swimmer. Hence the boat.”

“Hmm.” Caspian seemed to consider this for several moments. The giant seemed to reach a conclusion, but Beck was uncertain what it was as he was raised up above Caspian’s head. “Climb on.”

“Climb on?” Beck repeated, confused.

“And hold on tight.” Caspian advised, opening his palm and tilting it so that Beck slid off with a yelp. “I was under the impression you need air to survive?”

“YES! Yes, that is- yes, I need that.” Beckett confirmed, quickly grabbing onto Caspian’s hair as best he could. Not the easiest task in the world with how everything, including himself, was soaked. Nevertheless, Beck was wise enough to prepare himself for whatever a massive sea serpent might have planned.

Without further warning, Caspian lowered himself into the water, only keeping the top of his head above the waves for Beck’s benefit. Beck hastily lowered himself onto his stomach, not wanting to slide off Caspian’s head as the mer began to swim through the ocean faster than a speedboat.

“Where are you going!” Beck shouted above the wind whipping at his face. He squinted, trying to see where the siren was headed but having no luck. Were they swimming to the boat? Had Beck really gotten so far away from it?

Unfortunately, the siren himself offered no answers. The night sky and fog did not help Beck’s visibility. In these conditions, he was practically blind.

After several minutes of this less-than-ideal water travel, Caspian came to an abrupt stop. Beck frowned, finding himself staring at a rocky cliffside shore. Was Caspian trying to return him to the lighthouse again? But none of this looked familiar…

Caspian raised his head above the waves, sending Beck scrambling to keep his hold. It didn’t matter, as those familiar claws came up and plucked the human from Caspian’s hair.

“Hold your breath.” Caspian advised. This was Beck’s only warning as he was cupped between Caspian’s hands, the mer diving beneath the surface.

Thankfully, Beckett was intelligent enough to take the warning to heart. He held his breath, eyes squeezed tightly shut to avoid getting saltwater in them. The pressure became quite intense as Caspian dove several dozen meters down with ease. It made Beck feel like his head would pop at any moment. Was Caspian trying to drown him? But why go through all the effort of telling Beck to hold his breath, if only to drag it out?

Just as Beck could take it no longer and felt on the verge of passing out, Caspian breached the surface. Immediately Beck began to suck in large gulps of air, snorting to get the water that got stuck unpleasantly up his nose.

Despite being above the surface, Beck couldn’t see anything. He tried not to panic, heart racing thanks to all the uncertainties of the situation. “Where- where are we?”

“Home.”

Caspian’s answer only brought on further questions. Home? What kind of home did a gigantic merman have, anyway? Slowly his human eyes began to adjust to the darkness, noticing that bioluminescent moss seemed to give the space just enough light to see the outlines of shapes. It appeared they were in some sort of underground cavern, the water lapping against a craggy water-worn shore.

“Ah, yes. Of Course. Home.” Beck tried not to think about the several deadly reasons a wild animal might welcome him into its living space. But thankfully, Caspian wasn’t just an animal. He could talk, he seemed half human- that had to amount to something, right?

Of course, Caspian had still planned to eat him. So. There’s that.

“You’re still not gonna eat me, right?” Beck asked, not about to leave something so important to chance.

“Right.” Caspian sighed, as if the question were a mild annoyance and not tied to Beckett’s entire livelihood. “But you have disturbed my hunting time. I’m hungry.”

“Not sure that’s entirely my fault…” Beckett murmured to himself.

Caspian lowered his cupped palms to the rocky shore, setting Beck down away from the water’s edge. “Stay here.”

“Wha-? Stay here?” Beck became alarmed, taking a few nervous steps to catch his footing on the slippery slope. “Where are you going?”

“Do not worry.” Caspian assured Beck, easing himself back into the water. “I’ll bring you back something to eat as well.” With that, Caspian dove back into the water, leaving Beck alone in this dark murky cave.

Beckett blinked, shocked to find himself alone in this enclosure. “I don’t think he knows what humans eat.” Beck grimaced, not eager to see just what Caspian would be bringing back for him. Would it be wriggling? Slimy? Would it be human? The thought made Beck want to throw up.

Beckett shivered, feeling chilly now that the adrenaline was beginning to wear off. He found himself in an unknown underwater cave off the coastline somewhere, still soaked to the bone in his wet rags. The icy temperature in here was freezing, and the water wasn’t any warmer. Was Beck going to die of frostbite here? How long was Caspian planning on keeping him prisoner?

Beckett walked up and down the shore, looking for any driftwood or materials to make a fire. He had no luck, of course, but even if he had Beck didn’t know the first thing about starting a fire. So with nothing to warm himself, what should Beck do? Beckett knew from all the books he’d read on environmental conditions that staying in his wet clothing was one of the worst strategies for survival, but standing around naked in the freezing cave didn’t sound any more appealing. Not to mention, Beck had no way of drying his clothes even if they left his person. He would just have to put the soaking wet rags back on eventually.

Making a foolish decision, Beck kept his clothes on in the hopes that his own body temperature would help dry them eventually. Coming from the man who went out to sea to search for his would-be murderer all day, perhaps Beck shouldn’t be treating himself as a good source for advice.

“What was I thinking?” Beck murmured, pacing back and forth to try and keep the blood flowing to his extremities. His fingertips were growing numb, and Beck shoved them in his armpits to try and keep them warm.

Should he try and escape? Beckett guessed there must be some underwater entrance to this cavern, but there was no way of knowing how deep he would have to dive to reach it, how long the tunnel itself was, nor how high he’d have to swim to reach the surface on the other side. Beckett wasn’t known to be a particularly decent swimmer. Even just the idea of getting in the water right now made Beck shudder, not eager to get soaking wet once more.

Beckett let out a yawn, the excitement of the day catching up to him. He was cold, and tired. Nothing sounded better than stripping off these clothes and lying down in a warm, dry bed back at Seymour’s.

Oh gosh, Seymour. What was the old man gonna think when Beck didn’t return home like he claimed? He knew Seymour had little faith in Beck’s sailing abilities, but Beckett had foolishly promised to be careful. Would Seymour mourn him? Worse yet, would Seymour try to send out a rescue? What if Caspian found him and wasn’t so merciful?

Beckett was dead on his feet by the time the water began to shift. Beck slapped himself out of his stupor, standing to attention in his semi-dry clothes as the giant merman emerged.

Caspian pulled himself partially up onto the shore, holding out one hand to Beck. As expected, none of this looked edible in its current form. There was a live octopus, still wriggling around, a half dozen oysters, a few slimy eels, and a few other squirming entities Beckett wasn’t certain how to classify.

“Oh, thanks.” Beck tried to keep the disgust off his facial features. Even with not eating all day, Beck didn’t have much of an appetite. But would Caspian be mad if Beck didn’t eat it? It’s not like Beckett asked for it in the first place...

“I was uncertain what you would like.” Caspian admitted, a soft frown gracing his features as he nudged the human with his fingertips, encouraging Beck to eat. “Will this be good for you? Do not be shy, I ate my fill already.”

Beck cleared his throat. “Well, uh, some of this is what humans can eat, but we don’t eat it… raw. Or alive, usually.”

“Hmm.” Caspian considered this for a moment, taking one of the eels between his claws. Caspian raised the creature to his lips. In one swift motion, Caspian used his fangs to tear off the eel’s head, sending a small spurt of blood spattering down.

Beck cried out, quickly covering his head with his arms to try and avoid getting caught in the rain. “COOKED! IT NEEDS TO BE COOKED!” Beck hastily corrected, turning a bit green as Caspian tried to once again offer him the bloody corpse. “It needs to be prepared right, too, I don’t think I’m supposed to eat a lot of stuff found in live fish, they usually gut ‘em and stuff, and I’ve never been one for sushi in the first place.”

Caspian licked his lips, clearing away the blood stains as he tilted his head like a pup. “What do you mean, ‘cooked’?”

Beck slowly uncovered his head, thankful Caspian seemed to have backed off for a moment. “Right, cooked.” Beck nodded to himself. “Guess you wouldn’t know what that is, living in the ocean and all. Um, do you know what fire is?” It was Caspian’s turn to nod. “Wait, you do? How?”

“Fire chokes out life.” Caspian explained. “It creates the smoke and the ash that destroys the shores.”

“Well… yeah, I guess it does do that, sometimes.” Beckett admitted. “But we use it in smaller, healthy doses. You use it to cook your food, usually heating it up and changing it to be healthy.”

Caspian seemed more confused the further this conversation went on.

“Unfortunately, there’s no fuel here anyways.” Beck gestured to their surroundings. “And I don’t know how to make a fire anyways, so-”

“No fire.” Caspian said sternly. He sounded more like a stern parent, banning experimentation with firecrackers in the house.

“No fire.” Beck confirmed. He glanced at the ceiling. “Probably wouldn’t have been the best idea anyways, all enclosed like this. But anyways, no. I can’t accept your fish. Thank you, it was very kind of you, I’ll be forever grateful, but if I eat that I will be sick.”

“...hmm.” Caspian looked- disappointed? Frustrated? It was hard to tell the mer’s emotions, but Caspian at the very least seemed to understand Beck’s meaning, as he pulled his handful of fish back to himself. With a thoughtful expression, giving Beck one last option to protest, Caspian tilted the whole mixture into his mouth, chewing it into a paste and swallowing with ease.

Gross. Beck kept this thought to himself, grateful he was not on the other side of Caspian’s abs himself as the pleased merman gave his stomach a few pats.

“Then what will you eat?” Caspain asked, laying down to be more at eye level with the little man.

“Well, uh, I suppose I can always eat after I get home.” Beckett chose his words carefully, still uncertain what Caspian’s intentions were. “My friend would usually make meals with me. Stew, most of the time.”

Caspian’s eyebrows furrowed. “I can make stew with you.”

“No, you can’t.” Beck corrected. Gently. “No fire, remember? Fire’s needed for stew, too. And we don’t have any of the other ingredients. Vegetables, seasonings, broth, cooked meat… stuff like that. And any we got in here would be soaked with sea water, and that’s not great for humans either.”

The giant siren seemed displeased with this answer, obviously intent on keeping the human alive. This, at least, was one positive note in a storm of negativity for the evening.

With a displeased hum, Caspian reached out his hand towards Beckett. Instinctively Beck flinched away, worried the siren had gotten bored and wanted to do away with him, but all that happened was a giant digit began carefully stroking the top of Beck’s head and down the length of his back.

“Uh...what are you doing?” Beck asked, still stiff as a board.

Caspian didn’t seem inclined to answer. Instead he tilted his head, curious blue eyes intently studying Beckett. “Can you sing?”

Beckett blinked. “Can I what?”

“Can you sing?” Caspian repeated, and after Beck gave a nod: “sing for me.”

“Oh, well, I can sing, but not very well, mind you.” Beck admitted, looking a bit sheepish. The stage had always been his sister’s forte. “Certainly not to your caliber. I don’t think you want to hear me sing at all, actually.”

“Yes I do.” Caspian insisted gently. “Sing.”

Beck let out a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for such a task. What song does one even use to serenade a siren? After careful consideration, Beckett selected an old nursery rhyme from his childhood, both for its brief length and easy melody.

“Twinkle, twinkle, little star-” Beckett began, his voice shaking. He cleared his throat, trying to project a bit more even as Caspian leaned in to hear. “How I wonder what you are. Like a diamond in the sky, up above the world so high…”

Beckett had shut his eyes, trying to forget about any pressures to perform. A nice benefit to this impromptu concert is that Caspian had paused his petting to allow Beck to focus. “Twinkle twinkle, little star… how… er, ...up… ah…y’know what? I’ve forgotten the last line, actually.”

Beck grimaced, opening his eyes. Caspian was as difficult to read as ever, the siren’s face passive as Beckett awaited any sort of review.

“That was it?” Caspian clarified.

“Yeah, not a very long song.” Beckett agreed. “Meant for children, y’know? Just to… well I don’t know the point of it, actually, I guess it’s just something to sing.”

“Ah.” Caspian drummed his fingers along the rocks. “It was…”

Beckett waited not so patiently. “Well?” He spoke up. “I told you I’m a lousy singer.”

Considering the siren made no effort to disagree, Caspian held the same opinion, yet he wore a pained expression. Perhaps Caspian had held out hope for Beck after all? But then again, even if he were a renowned opera singer, how could a human voice ever possibly appeal to a siren?

“I thought everyone could sing.” Caspian admitted quietly.

For some reason, this bashful admission is what finally set Beck roaring with laughter. Beck clutched at his sides, doubled over with mirth as a concerned siren watched. Caspian let out a noise of concern, reaching out his hand to prod Beck in the side.

“No- I’m good!” Beck hastily assured him, pushing away the finger as if he had any chance of telling the siren what to do. “It’s just- ah, fuck. What a day, you know?” And with that, tears began to pour down Beckett’s cheeks, the poor exhausted boy helpless to stop them as he alternated between laughing and sobbing.

Now Caspian let out a whine, the trill noise echoing across the cavern walls as Caspian scooped the human up into his hands. Beck gasped, momentarily without air as he was forced against Caspian’s chest. “Shh, shhh.” Caspian hushed him, patting his back like he was a child.

Well, what did it matter? Beck felt like a child. He was tired, and hungry, and cold, and he just wanted to go home. Unable to work on any of those things, Beckett tried instead to take the comfort that was given to him, so overwhelmed by the day that this might as well happen.

Beck hiccupped, his tears still coming but too exhausted to keep wailing. Beckett leaned into Caspian’s chest, the smooth seal texture feeling surprisingly warm and dry for a creature that spent most of its life in the ocean. If he focused, Beck could hear a rhythmic thumping. It was Caspian’s heart, just on the other side of this ribcage.

“I wanna go home.” Beck murmured, more to himself than the siren who wouldn’t listen. “I just wanna go home.”

A rumbling sensation filled Beck’s ears, which he slowly recognized as Caspian’s singing. Beck closed his eyes, allowing himself to succumb to the call.

…

“...Beck?”

---

“-OI! Wake UP!”

Beck coughed, startled awake as he found himself once again doused in sea water. He blinked, disoriented to feel the surface beneath him was rocking like a boat. Before Beck could ponder that out, a bright light shined directly in his eyes, making him squint.

“Blimey, you look half dead.” Seymour whistled, taking stock of Beck’s appearance.

“I...what?” Beck frowned, looking around. They were on a boat. What happened? Last thing he remembered, Caspian had been coddling him like a wounded babe. “Where’s Caspian?”

“Who?” Seymour didn’t have a clue.

“Caspian! I- the giant siren!” Beck looked around, trying to spot anything in the darkness of night.

“Boy, I think you swallowed too much seawater.” Seymour shook his head, easing Beck back down. “Take it easy, you’re lucky to be alive.” Seymour pulled out an emergency orange blanket, wrapping it firmly around Beck’s shoulders. It was only then that Beck came to the startling conclusion he was naked, stripped of his wet clothes entirely. At least he could see them lying on the deck as well.

“The voice.” Beck insisted, staying down only because his head felt dizzy. “You must have heard him singing? He was singing. What’d I miss this time?”

Seymour had no answers, as far as giant sirens went. Instead, he explained his side of things. “When you didn’t come back yesterday, I came out to look for ya.” Seymour explained. “You must have a guardian angel after all. Caught you in my sights only by change with the spotlight, adrift in the waves. No idea how the hell you’ve got a speck of life in you, jumping in without a liferaft or lifejacket or nothin’. Holy hell son, ya got a death wish, there’s easier ways of going out.”

“I- what?” Beck frowned. “No, that… that’s not what happened.”

“Hypothermia can cause hallucinations.” Seymour swore under his breath. “Shit, you’re in a worse state than I thought. Never should have let you come out here alone in the first place, nevermind with Ben’s boat. He’s gonna kill ya, y’know, if you do manage to survive the night.”

“Didn’t mean to lose the boat.” Beckett rubbed at his eyes. “Got left behind on the way to the caverns.”

“To the caverns, he says.” Seymour rolled his eyes, handing Beck a warm thermos. “Drink. Sit. And don’t fall asleep.” With these last instructions, Seymour moved over to the captain’s chair, starting the motor and steering the boat back towards shore.

Beck stared at the waves passing by, sipping gently at the contents of the thermos. Tasted like hot lemon tea. Beck would have preferred hot chocolate, if shipwreck survivors were allowed to have preferences.

Was it a shipwreck? Did he jump in? No… no it was Caspian, wasn’t it? Dumb seal’s fault for it all. That, Beck was certain. Too bad he couldn’t charge the siren for Ben’s boat.

Before, Beck had barely escaped with his life, lost and confused about his potential giant savior. Now, he knew so much more than he had before. Caspian was real. Caspian’s name was Caspian. Caspian had intended to eat him, didn’t, and then let him go. Caspian had forgotten him.

Would Caspian forget him again? Why did that notion make Beck feel so uneasy?

It wasn’t like Beck owed Caspian anything, truly. The guy had saved his life twice now, but only after endangering it in the first place. But why did Caspian let him go this time? It seemed as if Caspian was intent on keeping him around like some sort of amusing lil’ pet. What had changed?

Beck’s mind was too tired to process through such things. He sipped more of the tea, growing drowsy.

“No sleeping!” Seymour yelled.

“Yes sir!” Beck jolted upright, regretting it when his head pounded. The sound of the waves had changed. Beck could hear them crashing against the shore, indicating they were almost to the dock.

Seymour expertly steered the ship into the harbor, a feat which took a good deal of skill in the middle of the night. Once securely fastened, Seymour offered Beck a hand, hauling the boy to his feet and keeping Beck steady all the way up to the lighthouse.

“Alright, in you get.” Seymour instructed, easing Beck into bed. He piled more blankets onto Beckett, disappearing briefly to grab a warm compress which he placed on Beckett’s forehead.

“I really did see him.” Beckett murmured, closing his eyes as the warmth lulled him into a deep slumber.

Seymour let out a low sigh. “I’m sure you did.” Seymour murmured, patting Beck’s arm.

#g/t #giant/tiny #giant mermaid #giant mers #giant siren #OCs #Caspian #Beckett #giant!siren!caspian #human!beckett

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juleswolverton-hyde · 5 years ago

Text

Homesick (BC)

Genre: Angst, Idol AU

Pairing: Bangchan x Reader

Warnings: Heavy heartbreak

Summary: Home is not always a place because sometimes it is a person. They are the one who have created an unrivalled atmosphere to linger in.

This home was found by an extremely lucky accident and explored in the city of the bridge that might one day fall.

And it hurts like Hell to be cast out of it.

Author’s Note: Based on personal emotions in regards to the cancellation of the SKZ concert in London and this letter. Indeed, this essentially might be a self-indulgent piece, but know there is a clear line between fact and fiction.

And I know exactly which is which.

Masterlist

Lonely.

That is perhaps the best word to describe the feeling of waking up in the morning in the heart of London. Normally, as happened on that miraculous night exactly a year ago, Versace Eros Homme would linger in the sheets and the running shower fill the tranquil Westminster air with the sound of falling water.

Now it is cold.

The tears streaming down the cheeks to stain the sole warm pillow were shed first by him at the first goodbye at Heathrow. Then they could be stopped by the promise of meeting again perhaps during the summer, but that wish had to be postponed due to touring. A new promise was made by agreeing to meet in London, the prospect slightly stilling quivering full lips stuttering out the words “I miss you” to their lucky beloved.

Another dream destroyed.

With a single phone call two months ago.

‘I’m so, so sorry, babygirl. They cancelled the Europe dates for the tour.’ Breaths noticeably became shorter as the consequences of the management’s actions in regards to health and safety sank in. Fingers started to tremble, shaking the phone as well as trying to cover a mouth endeavouring to not sink helplessly to the floor with a broken heart.

But the mutual sadness crashed in simultaneously, distorting the conversation on either side with gasps and sometimes successful attempts at forming words.

‘I- You- I’ve already booked a week- weekend in Lon- London.’

‘Can you,’ composure clearly had to be regained, leaving an interval of a couple of seconds before unsteadily continuing and failing at the first word, ‘can-’

It took a difficult swallow followed by an awkward clearing of the throat to finish the inquiry spoken in a lovely Australian accent, ‘cancel it?’

‘I could. But I- I don’t have the money. I’m still a poor student.’ Breathing in felt like swallowing sandpaper, but the pain was enough to evenly smooth out speech and nullify the sobbing stuttering. ‘So I’m still going.’

‘Where are you staying?’

‘Westminster, close to Hyde Park.’

‘Which hotel?’ Without hesitating, the name and address were given so Chan could find out where the hotel is located, slender fingers audibly typing on the keyboard of the laptop likely used for composing new songs. After a wee while, a relieved sigh sounded on the other side, voicing approval of the accommodation. ‘Good. That’s a safe neighbourhood. I’m not letting you stay in Stratford again.’

The risk of danger there forcefully removed an ordinary travelling student from the Ibis Hotel, her favourite wolf transferring her to a safer area in the metropolis. Even if it would raise questions among the members and the public if we were to be seen.

None of that mattered.

As long as we were safe from harm.

‘Chan, I... I really don’t wanna go.’ This is where the waterworks really opened and the sobbing began in earnest. ‘Not alone.’

‘You’ve been working hard. Too hard. You deserve a break, babe. Go.’

‘I hope you and the lads will stay safe, I really do. But you can’t expect me to walk the streets without the memory of you. To sit in the coffee corner of the Waterstones at Piccadilly Circus, overlooking the National Gallery without thinking of how I chased you after you kissed me on the cheek in the basement of the shop. How you kissed me in the square in front of the gallery.’

‘Of course I can’t expect that.’ A sad snicker and creaking of the bed told of sitting down like the girl across the pond, on the edge of what cannot be shared. ‘And I would have done it again. Would have- Would have treated you to breakfast, kissed you again, made love to you.’ A rasping breath tore the heart further into fragments, emphasizing the impossibility to reach out and crawl on the lad’s lap to cling to the muscled chest like a koala. ‘I miss you.’

The same words are now repeated to the empty spot, remembered by puffy eyes barely wearing any makeup portrayed in the mirror when preparing to head out for a coffee at a nearby Costa.

Clothes befitting a guest of the four-star hotel are put on without listening to Stray Kids, instead opting for the soundtrack of Assassin’s Creed: Syndicate to remain in a British humour. It is the same music which has been on constant repeat while aimlessly wandering around the city.

Taking strolls in Hyde Park and St. James’s Green.

Hands were entwined while exploring lush green and by the waterside, enjoying an impromptu picnic with food from the nearest Tesco or Sainsbury’s.

Walking the length of the Victoria Embankment and parliament district.

Chan offered the last of his water against the warmth, unwavering in his argument that it should be allowed to take care of a significant other regardless of personal costs. However, to repay the kindness, the little wolf acted rapidly to make sure the order of two lemon ciders was paid before her taller counterpart could draw a debit card when retreating from the heat in a cooled cafe.

Surveying art in galleries.

The ancient conflicts between a modernist and classicist somehow found their way into the relationship early, though neither of us actually knew what we were futilely howbeit amusingly ranting about.

Browsing in the various bookshops.

The kangaroo boy did not allow way less muscles arms to carry the various paperbacks that were collected when not grabbing a title from the top shelves for a girl with small people problems.

Hiding the secret tears fading in the shadows of Camden Lock, covering themselves with the unique fashion and amazing food to be found there.

The personal serving of cookie dough had to be shared because a hungry buff koala with a slight sweet tooth could not stop stealing bites.

Reminiscent of that devastating phone call.

‘I miss you.’

The three little words whispered to oneself over a large cup of cappuccino while looking out over the square where it happened a little less than a year ago.

What luck had found two souls.

What tragedy has befallen them.

‘I hope you’re okay.’ A hand wipes away the stray tear leaving a salty trail over skin, nose turning runny and teeth biting down on the lower lip when the absence across the table becomes tangible. Outside, the umbrellas have one another as they trod the grey pavements beneath the gloomy heaven. The books on the shelves are nestled against each other, the way panting lovers cuddled after their first time together and multiple intense rounds after until the evening of parting came.

Initiating hiatus.

London rain.

A broken promise.

‘I hope all of you are.’

Weary feet eventually leave the seat by the window after drinking what will likely result in a caffeine overdose. On the way to the underground, a stop is made at the nearby Sainsbury’s to buy a cheap three pounds meal deal. A student on a budget and low-calorie diet has to survive somehow and fortunately, if lucky, the convenience store offers what is wanted for a low price. Thus, with a bottle of water, fruit salad and egg salad sandwich alongside a couple of protein bars, the journey to the hotel is continued.

Vision becomes more and more watery as the stuffy underground station is left behind, slowly coming closer to the temporary accommodation that was supposed to be shared.

‘Why are you crying?’ A familiar voice that sounds like low purring when drowsy makes dark Puma sneakers turn around on the glistening marble tiles, overjoyed with the sound of home. Pale strong arms smelling of a romantic Italian holiday and dusted by thin black hairs pull the waist into a tight embrace as a thumb wipes away the droplets gracing skin. Love shines bright is warm chocolate eyes refusing to tear up in joy too. ‘Hey, babygirl.’

That is what wants to be heard.

Seen.

Felt.

But all there is, is the chic lobby.

The posh elevator leading up.

The cold sheets of the empty bed.

A lonely room.

And the unheard cries of a broken heart.

‘Fuck, I miss you.’

#Stray Kids #SKZ #Bangchan fanfiction #Bangchan #Bang Chan #Chan #Chris Bang

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alexthepartyman · 4 years ago

Text

Fine Line

Chapter Two: Hold it, focus.

“I was teaching an in-serivce at the Baltimore field office when this came in,” Derek tells us as we walk through the house. “Baltimore PD’s seen some pretty grisly stuff, but never anything like this. We got two bodies ID’d as William and Helen DiMarco.” I look around, the house seems very antiqued. “Retired, lived here for thirty-seven years, no kids.Neighbourhood reports a white male, twenty to forty years old, fleeing the scene, and I quote, hopped up on those damn drugs.”

“Eyewitness accounts are notoriously unreliable.”

“So far, it sounds like a standard double homicide. Why are we here?” Aaron asks as we walk up the stairs and into the master bedroom. I note the blood smeared on the walls.

“Massive overkill.”

“You don’t say.”

“Helen DiMarco was found here, tied to the chair in front of the vanity. No defensive wounds. Ligature marks around the wrists, one clean lacertation from ear to ear.”

“She was either too weak or she knew she wouldn’t make it,” I comment. “But that is a weird amount of overkill.”

“Looks arterial. Probably the carotid,” Elle says. “At least she went quickly.”

“The husband, William, was found in the shower. But he wasn’t quite as lucky.” I look into the bathroom, noticing the shower floor covered in blood, dried blood splattered on the glass sides and door. Yikes, it looks like the aftermath of the shower scene from Psycho. This amount of blood outside of a human body makes me nervous. “Ligature marks on the wrists and ankles and one long laceration up the abdomen through both layers of muscle.”

“Evisceration - that’s typical of disorganised behaviour.”

“Despite all the blood, this crime scene shows method, order, control. I’d say it’s pretty organised.”

“There was also evidence of torture with the husband. Burns, contusions, lacerations. You name it, this guy tried it.”

“If torture is the unsub’s signature, the methodology is usually unique. A person who burns someone usually doesn’t use a knife.”

“So maybe he have more than one killer, or we have one killer with more than one personality,” Aaron says.

“We also have three victims. Blood on the vanity, wife’s body was found there, husband was in the shower. From the looks of the level of the ring in this tub, whoever was in it lost thier entire blood volume.”

“I’d say that about all of the victims,” I add, peering into the bathtub.

“Approximately ten point six pints.”

“Which means the victim was dismembered.”

“Pints?” I ask.

“It looks like our guy took all the parts with him.”

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

“Okay, so I’ve got Helen DiMarco tied to the chair,” Derek says. “He probably killed her first.”

“To prove to the others that he had no mercy. Psychological torture before the physical pain.”

“Only there was no satisfaction from her death.”

“The death was too quick. Arterial, jugular, trachea, she died within seconds, especially with a cut like that.” I answer.

“The husband...with him, he took his time. There doesn’t seem to be any wasted effort, no hesitation on the unsub’s part. I mean, Gideon, look around. What he did...it’s a lot of work. We’re either dealing with a professional or -”

“A pure psychopath.” Uncle Jason stares blankly at the bloody shower. “Nothing more we can do here until the third victim turns up. I’m guessing there’s a connection to him.”

“He doesn’t want that victim identified.”

“Have Garcia go through open files in Maryland, see if any of the involve this level of torture.”

“Got it.”

“Have her check the surrounding states as well. If...the guy’s a pro, why do jobs only close to home?”

“How far back do you want her to go?”

“At least ten years. Guy’s no rookie,” Uncle Jason answers, walking out of the bathroom.

“Where is he going?” I ask.

“I don’t know, kid, but you should stick around here.”

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

“Third victim was positively ID’d as a low-level mob guy,” Derek reports. “Frederick “Freddy” Condore. He was the nephew of the older couple. Body parts were found in seven different trash cans two blocks from the crime scene.”

“Were they able to completely reassemble the body?” Spencer asks.

“Killer didn’t keep any trophies.”

“Is there any evidence he got off?”

“No.”

“Garcia has a number of unxolved murders in DC, Virginia, and Maryland over the past fifteen years. Many of them have ties to organised crime, all different MOs.”

“What’s the connection?” Elle asks.

“Torture. Marks on the ones are consistent with the same cutting tool.”

“Tortured victims, most tied to organised crime...no signs of sexal sadism.”

“Hitman,” I answer.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re looking for a hitman.”

“No, a hitman doesn’t need to torture to get the job done.”

“Two things - Baltimore just forwarded a sketch of the man running from the scene, and uh, you’ve got some agents out there who think you’re poaching on their turf,” JJ cuts in, hanging Jason a sketch.

“I’ll handle it.”

“Doesn’t federal trump over local?” I ask, looking up from my book again.

“Come on, we’ll set you up in my office,” JJ offers, grabbing my backpack.

“Why?”

“Because you’re gettin distracted from your school work, and Aaron said you can’t be here if you can’t get your work done.”

“JJ, I can do my work, I promise,” I tell her. Kids don’t steal my assignments and cheat off of me for nothing, you know.

“So, we just going to drop it?” Derek asks as Jason comes back and approaches the whiteboard. I slip my bookmark in place and put my book away.

“These guys don’t know what they’re dealing with.”

“Our unsub is male, intelligent, organised, and methodical. He has the confidence of a man who’s been killing for a long time. Only victim removed from the scene is Freddy Condore, indicating some tie to him. Elle, you and Reid stay on Condore’s background with Garcia. Dig deep, see what turns up.”

“Condore worked as a supervisor at a scrap metal yard in Baltimore. It’s owned by a guy named Michael Russo, boss of a small mob crew. I’m gonna grab Hotch and go check him out. Jamie.” I nod and throw my bag over my shoulder, jumping from my chair.

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

“Michael Russo?” Aaron asks. “Agents Hotchner and Morgan, FBI. This is our intern, Rossi.”

“What do you want?” Michael asks.

“Freddy Condore.”

“He didn’t show up for work today. He didn’t call, nothing.” Well...you can’t exactly make a phone call when your body is divided between seven trash cans.

“Probably because he, his aunt, and his uncle were murdered last night,” I state.

“Really? Too bad.”

“Yeah.”

“I can tell you’re all busted up about it.”

“Look, I don’t speak smart-ass, so you got something to say to me…”

“It was a professional hit. Either you’re in charge of your business or you’re not.”

“What kind of business do you think I’m in, huh? Look around. I’m in scrap metal. It’s all about recycling. That’s where the money is, my friend. Saving the earth.”

“You’ve got a big problem. You know, the mob isn’t what it used to be.”

“Ain’t easy always fighting for respect, is it?” Derek steps closer to Michael. “You always gotta fight for what’s yours. One of your boys steps out of line, tsk, tsk, tsk. You hit him hard, you make it count, right? Is that what happened to Freddy?” The man chuckles.

:Look. You got a case to make, run along, get your papers, and come back with the bracelets. Otherwise, I got a business to run.” The two men walk away from us.

“They don’t dress scrap metal,” I retort.

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

Derek kicks the door in, and he and Aaron storm in, guns pointed. “CLEAR!” Aaron yells.

“Copy that.”

“It’s clear here.”

Aaron and Derek holster their weapons. “Morgan, this is weird. There’s nothing here.” I step into the room and look around, finding a barren home. “It’s like nobody lives here...guess he wasn’t expecting company.”

“Something’s wrong?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Look at this place. It’s an artifical dwelling...to match an artifical past.” We start searching through everything, and I hear Derek tapping on a wall, before a loud thud.

“Derek, what the - what the fuck? Why did you punch that?” I ask, peering up from the other side of the oven.

“Hotch!”

“Yeah?”

“We got a hot weapon. Jamie, get back.” Derek gently pushes me away as Aaron approaches us. He pulls out a towel and sets it on the stove, unwrapping it to reveal a gun and a cartridge. “Oh, no.”

“What? What is that?” I ask.

“It’s a Glock nineteen. And this round is standard law enforcement issue.”

“So you’re saying Baker’s an undercover cop.”

“I’m saying I did eighteen months deep cover, and this place has got all the makings of a crash pad.”

“That does make a lot of sense. You can tell a lot about a person by how they decorate their house and if you just have nothing...then they can’t figure you out.”

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

“What the hell is wrong with you people?” A guy with a yellow tie bursts in, slamming the door behind him, I can hear him over my music.

“Sorry?”

“I told you, this is my case!”

“Alright, first of all, don’t shout at me,” Aaron says, rising to his feet behind his desk. I sneakily pause my screamington playlist so I can hear this whole thing. “And secondly, you don’t decide what cases the BAU works on.”

“You ran my agent’s gun through IBIS?” I look out of my periphreal and see Uncle Jason standing outside the office door with files in his hands.

“Cause I wanted to know who he worked for, and now that I do, I’d like to talk to him.”

“You don’t have him.”

“No. You don’t know where he is?”

“He’s missing,” the man says, sitting down by me and sniffling. Uncle Jason opens the door and lets himself in, closing it afterwards.

“How long?”

“Twelve hours.”

“Before or after the murders?” I look back to my book, scanning the words to pick up where I was.

“You think Jimmy’s a suspect?”

“Well, there’s a sketch of someone who looks an awful lot like him leaving the scene.”

“That’s because he was there. After. Look, he ran into a couple of Baltimore detectives, and they made him while he was with Condore. Now, Jimmy tried to play it off, but he didn’t think that Condore had bought it, so he wanted to go back and talk to him. When he saw what was left of the DiMarcos, he called us for a pickup. We showed up. He didn’t.”

“You think he ran?” Aaron asks.

“No. Jimmy’s too experienced to run without contact.” Contact, contact, contact, con...con...con-tact. No, that can’t be it. Con-ca...that sounds even worse. “If he’s not calling in, then someone’s keeping him from doing it.”

“Who’s Jimmy Baker’s target?” Uncle Jason asks.

“Michael Russo. We’ve been after the guy for three years. Jimmy’s been under for almost two.”

“We talked to Russo yesterday. He seemed genuinely surprised by the murders.”

“And you bought that? Let me tell you a little something about Michael Russo. The guy is a liar, and a good one. If he didn’t do it, then he knows who did. Oh hell, you know what? I’m wasting my time with you. You obviously don’t get it.”

“Agent Cramer, we’re not the enemy. Please sit down,” Jason says, blocking the door. Agent Cramer sits at Aaron’s desk, and Jason joins him. “We;re dealing with a very dangerous killer here...and we need your help. You know these people better than we do.”

“This guy - if he is what you say he is and he has Jimmy, did he kill him already?”

“We don’t know.”

“I’ll help you in any way that I can. You help me get this man back to his family.” I pull off my headphones and put my book away again, grabbing my bag to go hang out with someone else.

“If it’s any comfort, Agent...I knew he was lying. They didn’t dress scrap metal,” I say, before walking out of the office.

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

“You’re gonna need a bigger board,” Penelope says, bringing in a cardboard box.

“Please tell me you brought some breakfast.”

“Huh. Trust me, sugar, you’re not going to want to eat when you see what’s in here. What is Jamie still doing here, I thought he had school?” Penelope asks, turning to me.

“Two day weeks for the rest of the month. Doctor wants me to take things slowly,” I answer.

“This place is not slow, Jamie. You should be staying home with your dad.”

“He thinks it’s good that I get out. As long as I’m with one of you guys, I’m fine.”

“How many more are there?” Derek asks Penelope.

“Well, I’ve gone back fifteen years, and there’s over a hundred.”

“A hundred unsolved murders?”

“Yeah, that we know of. And then there’s more coming in.”

“I can help bring in boxes,” I offer.

“Sorry, little noodle. You have to focus on school, and you can’t do any heavy lifting.” I pout at Penelope, who ruffles my mop of hair.

“Torture’s consistent. You know, we thought this guy might have been at it a while, but this many victims, Garcia?” Derek sighs. “John Wayne Gacy killed at least thirty people. This guy’s more than tripled that.”

“Yeah, but this guy gets paid for it. He’s a hit man.”

“No...he’s more than that. Not all these victims were mob hits. You know, my guess is that he started hunting when he was really young...perfected his craft...moved on to bigger prey. Garcia, look at this, there’s no hesitation in the wounds, one clean cut through flesh and bone.”

“Okay, so what does that tell us?”

“Most people wouldn’t imagine doing something like this to another human being, but this guy, he doesn’t even flinch. He’s got no conscience.”

“Is that psychopathy or sociopathy?” I ask.

“Sociopath. We’ve got ourselves a serial killer with the perfect career. Russo has no idea what he’s dealing with. I think we can shake him. Keep looking. Jamie, stay with Penelope and do your work.” He says, ruffling my hair and walking out of the room.

“Do I really get that distracted that easily?” I ask.

“Yeah, you do.” My phone beeps and I peer at it, finding a text from Cal. “Give the phone. Ooh! A text from a boy!”

“Penelope!”

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

“Is this gonna work?” Elle asks.

“The beam is reflected off the pane according to the law of optics.”

“Yeah, the angle of instance is equal to the angle of reflection.”

“Uh-huh. Is it gonna work?”

“Hey, it’s me.”

“We’re gonna find out right now,” I comment.

“I need to see you tonight. I’ll call you from a secure line.”

“Apparently, it does.”

“Hey. Listen, you brought a lot of heat taking down Freddy like that...What - I’m dealing with the feds...Listen, meet me here at the office...they don’t know nothing...I’m dealing with them...stop being paranoid, Vinnie…”

“Bingo.”

“No. Vinnie.”

“Look for either VIncent or Vincenzo. Mob members are usually Italian, so focus on names of Italian origin...and keep it around Baltimore, look for a rap sheet indicating sociopathy to this level,” I ramble.

“Well, he’s got eleven associates named Vincent,” Spencer says, collecting files.

“No, make that ten. Vincent Cellito died last summer,” Elle corrects him. “You know, here’s something. What can you tell me about Vincent Sartori?” Elle then gives Penelope a look of surprise. “I was still drinking that.”

“Not only is this equipment expensive, it’s also extremely sensitive.”

“Don’t leave your coffee on the files next time,” I reprimand her.

“Vincent Sartori.”

“Currently doing six at Dannemora for racketeering.”

“How about this Perotta? There’s not much on him.”

“Can you get into those records?” Elle asks Penelope.

“Despite the fact that they were probably expunged, she can find the faintest echo of deletion and successfully re-create the file, thereby sending us all to prison for computer felony fraud counts.”

“We can make bail. Garcia?”

“Already in. Alcohol addiction at fourteen. Violent outbursts. Assaults. Once threw a molotov cocktail at someone sitting in their car.”

“That sounds like a party,” I comment, not looking up from my book.

“Several notations for aggression. He once scheduled a visit to an infirmary to gain access to a boy who looked at him for too long?”

“No hear, no remorse. Quick temper. And he was smart enough to stay off the radar as an adult. Paranoid personality. He could be our guy.”

“There’s absolutely no information on him as an adult. No driver’s license, no utility bills, nothing. It’s like he became a ghost.”

“Let’s just hope that they can catch them.”

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

“This was all in his van?”

“Yep. The guy wasn’t exactly neat.”

“Classic anti-social personality.”

“What are these tapes?” I ask.

“I don’t know. Why don’t Reid and Garcia take a look, let us know, alright?”

“Yeah. Movie night. I’ll make popcorn.”

“I’m gonna join movie night,” I comment. “I’m not innocent, Derek, and I don’t need to tell you how.”

“You’re twelve.”

“Fourteen. In case you haven’t forgotten, I’m not like the other kids, either.” My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out to see an image from Jasmine, a drawing of us and our friends.

“Is that the boy?” Penelope asks.

“No,” I remark, typing back a quick ‘looks awesome!’ before tucking my phone away again.

“A boy?”

“Derek! It’s not a boy!”

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

“You got that address?”

“In Glen Burnie like you thought.”

“Yes.”

“It looks like Frank Perotta died in a suspicious hunting accident with Vincent, he was seventeen, it was like, thirty years ago.”

“My guess is that it was no accident.”

“Well, you said he was looking for bigger prey, and it looks like he found it.”

“Garcia...you’re my girl. Thank you. Jamie, keep it up, get ready for school. It’s Thursday morning.” Derek kisses her head and then leaves, closing the door to the cave behind him.

“I’m gonna need, like, five energy drinks to get through today,” I groan, throwing my head back and taking a light spin in the chair.

“What are you even doing on my system?”

“Helping. I heard you say Frank Perotta and I just...did it. I’m gonna head to the bathroom, try to look like I haven’t been awake for the past three days. Gym class first thing in the morning fucking sucks ass.” I tell her, kissing her head and walking out of the cave with my bag on my shoulder. I stop at the glass doors to the bullpen, watching as officers take a man away in handcuffs, before stepping into the bullpen and heading to Derek’s desk, nicking his 3-in-1 from his go bag.

“Why are you stealing Derek’s...soap?” Elle asks me from her desk.

“Is he coming yet?” I ask.

“He’ll be a few minutes. What are you doing?”

“I was going to use the gym showers so I don’t go to school and people think I live in a cardboard box and then hitch a ride to school from Grant, but if you’ve got better ideas-”

“Come shower at mine and tell your dads.”

“I only have the one dad.”

“You mean Hotch and Gideon aren’t your dads, too?” She jokes. “Just come on, I’m headed home, anyways, I’ll take you to school.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I insist. Besides, Grant and Spencer are probably going to want some time alone.” I sigh and pull out my phone as Elle grabs her things.

“Hey, Dad, so I’ll be home tonight...I’m getting ready at Elle’s house this morning...the case just ended…”

“Make sure you eat, and tell Aaron and Jason where you’re going. How long was the case?”

“It started Monday morning, and I’m so...I’m gonna need a nap when I get home, we had to deal with the mob in Baltimore, and… I slept, I promise, I’ll make Elle get me an Egg McMuffin or something.”

“Alright, piccolo, just make sure you’re taking better care of yourself. I left yesterday to go to another signing, so go home after school and feed the dogs, and if you need a ride home, call one of yourr brothers or the BAU. And get a decent night’s sleep.”

“I will. I love you, Dad, I’ll see you next week.” I hang up and put my phone in my pocket and climb into the passenger seat of Elle’s car. “Let’s go.”

“You don’t eat breakfast. Something’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong!”

#adoptedbydavidrossi #criminal minds fanfiction #Criminal Minds

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noiseartists · 5 years ago

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Mexican Shoegaze, Dream & Noise Pop, a quick guide, Vol.1

To present the great Mexican scene, we asked a specialist: Jairo Manzur, Editor of Sonidos que Permanecen (ex ‘Shoegaze Latino America’). And what a superb introduction it is.

Thanks to Lorrelle Meets the Obsolete, Lasitud, Los Kowalski, El Glum, Acty and Rilve for providing some of the material for this article.

INTRODUCTION

“I find it hard to introduce a genre so global (and kind of diffuse nowadays) as shoegaze even in a single country. In my mind, any attempt would just leave things out. So, instead of introducing Shoegaze in Mexico, I will try to propose a way to approach the genre in two different ways: a historical one and a geographical one. During this brief introduction, I will also refer to other articles that have highlighted bands and musical scenes.

Shoegaze in Mexico: a historical perspective.

When I was asked by Noise Artists to write an introduction to this guide, the first thing that came to my mind was to find and explore the roots of Shoegaze in Mexico. In general, Shoegaze become a musical phenomenon in Latin America during its resurgence around the 2010’s (a resurgence prompted by Internet communities dedicated to the genre and the worldwide availability of equipment and gear that was before too expensive or hard-to-find).

Nonetheless, many countries had seminal bands during the 90s; even if the examples are scarce bands like Silvania or Resplandor (both from Peru), Mellonta Tauta (Argentina) or Un.real (Puerto Rico) were pivotal in the development of shoegaze in Latin America. To my surprise, there is little information about bands doing Shoegaze during the 90s in Mexico.

In his introduction to the Pitchfork's list "The 50 Best Shoegaze Albums of All Time", Peter Kember (founder of Sonic Boom and Spacemen 3) reminds that:

“If you had told me in 1991 that, 25 years later, I would be prefacing a list on Shoegaze, I would probably have told you it would never happen. Few of these bands paid even the slightest, fleeting lip service to commerciality. I couldn't see it.

But things change; even by 1993, I was redressing my views. I played a show that year in L.A. at Johnny Depp's Viper Room. The support band, to my complete amazement, was a Shoegaze band—a Mexican shoegaze band. The thought that this music might cut through cultures with such broad swathes had never occurred to me before, but now I could see this genre might have long legs, in between that gaze and those shoes.”

Kember does not state (and probably doesn't remember) the name of that Mexican band. Still, the mention is priceless and problematic: that band (and probably others) existed, yet we don't have any valuable information about them. So, that is a (re)search that needs to be addressed in the future. The location of the gig is also important: areas like Baja California (with Tijuana on the lead) have become important musical centers thanks to its proximity to the United States border. As noted by Erich E. Mendoza on "Tijuana's Independent Spirit Has Made It Home to One of Mexico's Most Exciting Music Scenes":

“To understand why the Tijuana scene is experiencing a revival, we have to dive into the early 90s, when a local band named Staura was just getting its start. Staura was made up of Gaby Spica, René Soberanis (better known as Loopdrop, another key band in this scene), and Omar Foglio, who would go on to become Tijuana's top independent promoter and launch Swenga Fest in 1995.

It was during the career of Staura and Loopdrop that the local public began to turn their heads and notice what was going on in the few venues and bars that had performance spaces for bands at the time. And it was through these initiatives and with this support that other acts like Ibi Ego and Shantelle began to come to life in the early 2000s.”

Shoegaze in Mexico: a geographical perspective.

Though Mexico City concentrates most of the population of the country, the musical scene in Mexico is well decentralized. As already commented, Baja California has been an important and fervent musical area for decades.

In recent years, bands like Lorelle Meets the Obsolete or Mint Field (mixing Shoegaze, Dream Pop and Psych Rock) have risen to global fame, by so increasing the already notorious presence of the area on the musical map of the country.

Aguascalientes also seems to have a strong bond with Shoegaze: bands like Le 1991, Bleak Boys, Car Crash Sisters and others, have explored the genre with success; the same happens to other states like Guanajuato (with interesting bands like DUVVI. Clan de Venus or the already disbanded Candy Colors) and Morelia.

Differently from other Latin American countries, the music in Mexico is not centered around the capital city. So, any attempt to think any genre has to encompass the country as a whole.

Lorelle Meets the obsolete

Mexico’s Lorelle Meets The Obsolete conduct a mind-blowing experiment in restrained noise. Bringing their intense new album ‘De Facto’ to the stage they now push electronics to the fore of their wall of sound. All elements (the surging guitars, clattering electronic beats and heavy live rhythms) coalesce into a wave of sound, like an acid rock Factory Floor. They sing mainly in Spanish with some detour through English.

There is an interesting article in the Guardian that points out that

A mix of shoegaze textures and darker psych stylings has earned Lorelle meets the Obsolete acclaim far beyond their native Mexico, with Robert Smith and Henry Rollins among their fans.

An other article in Sonic Cathedral points rightly about the evolution of the band’s sound on the last album:

De Facto isn’t just a progression from 2016’s acclaimed Balance, it’s a new start which sees Lorelle Meets The Obsolete ripping up their own rulebook and building everything up from scratch. When they returned to Ensenada after touring Balance in 2017, they built a new recording space with their roommate and touring synth player, José Orozco. As a result, a lot of the songs were initially conceived without guitars.

“There’s nothing unusual about this, but for us it was all new territory working this way,” explains Alberto. “Having a new palette of musical equipment gave us the chance to develop the songs in a different way, so songs were constructed around drumbeats and synth lines – most of the guitars only came at the end.”

The line-up is:

Lorena Quintanilla (Lorelle): Vocals, electric guitar & electric bass.

Alberto González (The Obsolete): Drums & percussion, electric bass, casiotone, electric & acoustic guitars.

Their music work to date is (we included links to some good reviews):

2011: On Welfare, album

2012: Ghost Archives, EP

2013: Corruptible Faces, album; Live In Mexico City; What's Holding You?, EP

2014: Chambers, album; Live in London

2015: God Unknown Records Split, EP

2016: Balance, album

2017: The Sound Of All Things, EP

2019: De Facto, album; Unificado (Pye Corner Audio Remix)

Some songs we love:

SADFIELDS

Sadfields are a Noise Pop band from Mexico City formed in 2015. After a fantastic first song, "Falling apart", the band released their first 6 songs' EP/LP. If you like a huge sound, cranked guitars, beautiful melodies, look no further. The Band and Noise Artists did a full artist presentation that you can find HERE

They sang in English but have started lately with lyrics in Spanish with gusto. The music work to date is:

2016: Falling apart, single

2017: Homesick, album; I don’t know why, single

2019: Atrás / Desaparecer, singles

The current line-up is:

Daniel Espinoza - Vox/Guitar

Miguel Lara - Bass

Erick Román - Drums

Some of the songs we love:

LOS KOWALSKI

The Kowalski are a band from Mérida, formed in 2011. They sing in Spanish and mix progressive rock and reverb Pop very efficiently.

“We create a color palette by means of distortion and echo waves, where melodies of reverberated voices appear, combining organic sounds with electronic sounds.”

The current line-up is:

Pablo Fuentes: drums, keyboard, guitar, voice

Manuel Gutiérrez: guitar, keyboard, voice

Arturo Ponce: bass, guitar, theremin

They have 2 EP, 1 album (see below) and are currently working on our second album, which they hope to release in early 2020:

2015: Sputnik, EP

2017: Sónica, EP

2018: Dejarte ir, album

2019: Sputnik, EP

Some of the songs we love:

ACTY

Formed in mid-2015, ACTY (Amparo Carmen Teresa Yolanda) is a band originally from the state of Hidalgo.

The 4 names making the acronym come from Compadre Lobo, a novel written by Gustavo Sainz. The band’s taste for literature is reflected in their songs, the lyrics narrate youthful anguish, while music envelops us in atmospheres of noise (Shoegaze, Kraut, Noise, Post -Punk.)

They are currently belong on the independent label "Amigos Records" with whom they have released their two albums in Cassettes. They have released 4 official videos, the most recent being "Nothing is what They Want." According to the band, their last album, ‘Once Veinte’

“is the turning point between what it would be and what it is. We follow the path of what it would be, renouncing what it is. That is why we are here, living that utopia that we always wanted but we never dared to discover.”

The music work to date is:

2016: Amparo Carmen Teresa Yolanda, album

2018: Once Veinte, album

The current line-up is:

Iván Aguilar: voice, guitar

Oscar Aguilar: drums

Emmanuel Cerón: bass

Some of the songs we love:

SPRAY CANELA

Spray Canela is an independent Mexican band and ‘always will be’:

“One day we realized that what is believed and said about the Mexican music scene is very partly a lie. Unhappy with the national scene we decided to take action by our own hand and stop limiting our ideas and sound, expanding out of our area of comfort. We record our own music and produce our own merchandise, we like to keep it that way.

Since 2017 Stupid Decisions has been our hallmark for sharing our vision about sound, as well as our taste for cassettes, independent distribution and other things that could be called D.I.Y.”

Their sound is always changing, song after song, from Shoegaze, Raw Post Punk and progressive Rock, giving them an almost organic life.

Their music work to date is:

2019: Síntomas De Un Punto Muerto, album; Domio Mundial / Ciccone, singles

2018: Milagro Adolescente, LP

Some of the song we love (the second piece is absolutely epic):

LASITUD

Lasitud is a Shoegazing / Dream Pop / Post-Rock band from Villahermosa, Tabasco, Mexico. They mix the experimentation and stridency of Shoegaze, the soft harmonies of Dream Pop and the sensitivity of Post-Rock, resulting in a deep sound full of unique textures.

“Listening to Lasitud is like taking a long journey of dream landscapes”.

The music work to date is:

2018:Lasitud, EP

2019: Fantasma , EP

The current line-up is:

Paola Vidal,voice and keyboards

Julio Beli in voice, guitars

Andrés Contreras, guitars

Max Campos, bass

José Gorrochotegui, drums

Some of the songs we love:

EL GLUM

Hailing from Guadalajara, Mexico, EL GLUM is the solo project of Eduardo Vela, the guitarist of alternative rock band Aurum, with a debut EP (Uno) in 2018. Seamlessly melding ’90s influenced dashes of shimmering shoegaze reverberations and atmospheric, lulling dream pop with energetic rhythms, mesmerizing synth and blurred vocals, El Glum has just dropped a new single “Lejos”. The music work to date is:

2019: Fuera, single; Lejos, single

2018: Uno, EP; Presente. Single

Some of the songs we love:

RILEV

RILEV is a Shoegaze / dreampop band originally from Mexico City. Their first EP was done and released totally independently. They are mainly inspired by nature and love and believe in music as a catalyst for strong emotions

The current line-up is:

Manuel Grados: Guitar, voice

Alexis Guzmán: Bass

Alfredo Reyes: Drums

The music work to date is

2018: Rilev EP

Some of the songs we love:

BLEAK BOYS

Bleak Boys are a band from Aguascalientes. They released their first music in 2014. Their music is a powerful ensemble and loaded with a loud sensibility,

Describing their music, the bands says:

We met somewhere in a dreamy landscape

The current band members are:

John: Guitars, Vocals, Synthesizer

Paco: Lead Guitar, Vocals

Cruz: Bass, Keyboards

Noel: Drums, Vocals

The musical work to date is:

2015: Part Time Punks Sessions, album; Tensegrity, EP

2014: Corrosive, EP; Ræd, single; Bleak Mates, single

Some of the songs we love:

#Mexico #Shoegaze #Dream pop

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douxreviews · 6 years ago

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American Gods - ‘Muninn' Review

"Burn, baby, burn."

American Gods mostly gets its groove back after last week's misfire, Wednesday and Laura go on a literal trip down memory lane, and New Media finally makes an appearance.

Billie is not going to be OK with what happens to the library, however.

Interestingly, after my complaint last week about missing the Bryan Fuller signature soundscapes and dreamscape imagery, we open with exactly that. To be fair, that was probably largely due to avoiding the cost and logistics of actually showing a train derail after hitting a car on the tracks. Disorienting yet suggestive imagery combined with an off putting soundscape tell the story of a train v. car collision just as well and are much, much cheaper.

Whatever the reason, it was nice to have them back. It's interesting however, to note that there were several instances where the stylized camera work made it difficult to follow what was actually happening. For example, it wasn't entirely clear what was going on when Betty the Car reformed herself post accident. Were they reversing the footage of the car being crushed as a way to indicate the fractured way one of the characters present experienced that moment of the accident? Was it a visual metaphor? A dream someone involved in the crash was having? No, apparently the car was literally reforming itself, as it was sitting there good as new a few shots later. Another instance was when the scene transitioned from Shadow looking out of it in the wreckage to Shadow walking through some trees in daylight. All of the visual language of television was indicating that we'd transitioned to a dream Shadow was having, but we weren't, we'd just cut to later in the day when he'd gotten out of the wreckage and that hadn't been communicated to the viewer in a clear way.

Honestly, the whole immediate aftermath of the crash sequence just made you realize how good Fuller is at that sort of thing, because I can't think of a single occasion where he's used that same distorted imagery technique and it resulted in the action being unclear. At least, not in a way that didn't feel one hundred percent deliberate.

So, after last week's absolutely delightful pairing of Sweeney and Laura, this week we get Laura paired with Wednesday which worked much better than I was expecting it to do. It seemed odd at first that Laura would reject Sweeney and choose to go with Wednesday instead, particularly as she knows that Wednesday basically destroyed her entire life just to get her out of the way. She and Sweeney clearly were really connecting last episode, so turning on him for picking up her body parts off the road seemed like a forced way for the show to separate them. Then I thought about it for a minute and remembered that sabotaging her relationships with people that care about her is pretty much Laura's entire character description. Viewed with that in mind, the whole sequence of events makes perfect sense. It would have been nice if the show had made that point a little clearer. I hate to criticize a show for giving the viewers too much credit for figuring things out on their own, but in this case they could have stood to underline her motivations a little more.

Ah, Mad Sweeney. Pablo Schreiber continues to be the show's standout, and is more so every week. Thank god(s) that they kept both him and Laura around past their appearances in the novel and that they continue to give both of them so much to do. Hypocritically, I also feel like they probably should have cut Sweeney out of this episode after they left the funeral home, as all we really got of him were comic relief bits showing his bad luck road trip to New Orleans. But then, if they'd cut him out we'd never have seen the look on his face when he realizes that he's been 'rescued' by a Christian rock band, and nothing is worth that.

The thing that this episode felt like more than anything was a series of videogame side quests. Now, I'm not a gamer myself. I have an inherited tremor which makes trying to use a game controller kind of a pain in the ass. But my understanding of the whole side quest thing is that at various points in the game you have to stop working toward the main goal of the game, whatever that may be, and instead fulfill a little side mission, or earn some money, or solve a puzzle or something. That's what this episode felt like to me.

Taking the side quests in order, Laura and Wednesday head off to find another old god that has allowed himself to be co-opted by the new gods because Wednesday wants to kill him and somehow doing that will 'recharge' the coin in Laura's chest that's keeping her alive and making her superstrong. Again we continue this episode's theme of not explaining things properly, as it's never really made clear why killing Argus will do that, plus we're all pretty sure that Wednesday is lying to Laura the whole time anyway, which it turns out he is but the coin recharge thing still works anyway because reasons. Having accomplished that, Wednesday immediately betrays Laura and leaves her stuck in whatever Argus' realm is supposed to be. It might possibly be a TARDIS, there were some very distinctive roundels in that last hallway.

Great job with the design of Argus, by the way. This is our first god that we've seen who doesn't look like a standard human to us as his standard desktop theme and they did a great job making all of the eyes look real and disturbing. The fiber optic cable bundles that writhed like serpents were also a nice look. I don't recall ever seeing anything quite like it.

Technical Boy and New Media are also on their way to see Argus, because Mr. World wants them to... um... scold him for not updating his Norton Antivirus or something, possibly? Again, it's not entirely clear what they're there to do. You might be seeing a theme here. Similarly vague are New Media's actions with Argus. Was she actually betraying Mr. World to join an alliance with Argus? It would make sense, as he represents watching and she represents being watched, but if that's the case shouldn't Technical Boy have reacted in some way to that development? Instead he just politely stands back and doesn't stop Laura from killing Argus, then he and New Media leave without even mentioning it. And I've been remiss in mentioning it, but Bruce Langley really deserves a lot of praise for his work on this show. It's hard to play a character that irritating in a way that isn't irritating to the people watching at home, and he pulls it off.

Then we have Ifrit and Salim, who head to the corn palace to pick up a magic spear, as you do. Instead of the corn palace, they end up at a strip club called the Porn Palace, whose neon sign has a faulty first 'P,' making it appear to be a 'C' at first glance. That was a cute reveal. There they pick up the spear with no incident from a Lakota trickster god named Iktomi, who was played by the always wonderful Julian Richings, who many will remember as being the definitive Death over on Supernatural. This plotline felt the most perfunctory, and probably could have been replaced with a line of dialog later on down the line, but it's always nice to see Mr. Richings.

Lastly we have Shadow and his new friend Sam Black Crow, who gives him a lift to the storyline's next destination. Again, not a lot happens here and Sam feels very much like a mouthpiece for the writing staff to muse about things philosophically, but it works. Mostly because Devery Jacobs has an indefinable charm about her, but also because it opens up the concept of Two Spirit gender identification, which more people should know more about.

Quotes:

Wednesday: "Ah, Mrs. Moon. Did we sit on a wall?"

Mad Sweeney: "You just gonna lie there, let nature have her way with you?"

Laura: "Are you eating me?"

Sweeney: "Coward? I saved you." Laura: "I’m dead, coward." Sweeney: "Well, you’re welcome for picking up all your gory little f**king pieces up off the road."

Ibis: "The advantage of love at first sight is it doesn’t require a second look."

Technical Boy: "How the f**k is that an upgrade?" This felt like the writers pre-empting complaints about New Media. It probably was intended as such.

Wednesday: "So, you’re working on faith, huh?" Laura: "I definitely wouldn’t use that word."

Sam: "You ever hear of the Crow nation warrior named ‘Finds Them and Kills Them’?" Shadow: "No, but he sounds very efficient."

Laura: "Please. Tell me more about what I want."

Wednesday: "What’s the worst thing you can do to a book?" Laura: "Um.. Ignore it..?"

There are not words for how much I love the Hello Kitty collar on this shirt.

Bits and Pieces:

-- It's awfully convenient that Laura was literally blown to pieces in the train crash and Shadow only got a little bruised. But then, her body is actively decaying, so I supposed she'd be more explodable.

-- I know I'm fighting a losing battle here, but I have to say it again. A lit cigarette will not ignite fuel, no matter how many TV shows and movies show it happening. It will either be smothered by the liquid before it gets anywhere near generating enough heat for combustion, which doesn't happen in the liquid but happens in the off-gasses, or it will smolder until it burns out unless by some miracle the off-gassing reaches LEL (Lowest Explosive Level) before that happens. Please stop.

-- You could, however, use a lit cigarette to start a fire in a library full of parchment. It would take a little effort, but you could do it. But despite having a lit cigarette on hand at the time, Laura takes the easy route and uses a match.

-- It seems that Sweeney's bad luck only hits him when he's not around Laura, which sort of makes sense since he's also near his coin at those times.

-- It's interesting that Sweeney is still heading to New Orleans to see someone who I presume is Baron Samedi, since he was only going there to help Laura and she's not with him anymore. That's sweet. I hope he's the one who rescues her from Argus' domain.

-- Sweeney seemed genuinely hurt when Laura chose to go with Wednesday instead of him. I'm 'shipping those two so hard.

-- Argus isn't in the book, nor are any of the Greek Gods. Neil stated that he decided against featuring any of them since they get used so much more often in popular culture.

-- New Media just isn't working for me yet, although I know it's way too early to judge. I miss Gillian Anderson's celebrity impressions.

-- Laura's dad was a drunk. Now we know why he wasn't at the wedding. No word on if he's dead or alive.

-- I wonder what Wednesday is going to need the seedling for?

I know I'm sounding like I didn't enjoy much about this episode, but that's really not true. There was a lot of good stuff here, and many, many little details that show that someone was really putting their heart into it. I just wish that some of the storytelling had been a little clearer.

Three out of four creepy eyeballs.

Mikey Heinrich is, among other things, a freelance writer, volunteer firefighter, and roughly 78% water

#American Gods #Shadow Moon #Mr Wednesday #Laura Moon #Mad Sweeney #American Gods Reviews #Doux Reviews #TV Reviews

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wolfgangisdead · 4 years ago

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dancing with the bones

|masterlist|

fandom original content

rating teen and up

warning n/a

notes

Bones was quiet as we walked. He said nothing and did nothing, looking forward into as if he could see the fabric of time itself. It was a bit weird seeing him like that since moments ago he was the happiest, cheery skull painted stranger I had ever seen. He didn't seem to like the children much: he scowled every time one came near.

Harold hadn't stopped talking since leaving the cemetery. He was a very bitter skeleton, for all the right reasons. Apparently, his wife stoke his money, his kids, and let him fall into despair. He was hit and killed by a train.

Ibis and Bartholomew were quiet, not even attempting to add onto the conversation which was fine since I more or less was worried about the sudden attitude shift in our more lively companion. Did these children traumatize him or something?

“There is a spirit of evil among us.” Bones’ voice took a chilling turn, no longer tinged with the usual accent. He sounded more like Johnny Depp’s mad hatter whenever things got serious and he’d space out.

Harold, if it was even possible, seemed to frown. “Yes, I sense it too. Now, dears, we’d very much appreciate it if you stay here! Things could get quite dirty around here. Try not to wonder away, though! It’d be lovely to get to know you two better.”

Percy and I were left alone pretty quickly after that, with Bones being the last to leave as he squinted at me before leaving.

“We should definitely go and see what they’re doing, Nef. It’s gonna be fantastic.” Percy grinned at me, acting almost as if it was perfectly normal to follow a painted skeleton, a real skeleton a ghost and a werewolf after hearing them say there was something evil among them. Perfectly normal.

“I don’t now, Perce, did you see the look Bones gave me? It’s like he knows something. Something bad could be happening. It’s best to just sit here and wa - and there you go. Leaving me alone. Outside a cemetery. I always said I’d be the first to die in a horror movie setting.” I blinked, watching as Percy disappeared down the path the group had taken.

Alone. That’s what I was and what I wouldn’t give to have Bones pop out of nowhere asking what I was looking at. The longer I stood there, the more aware I become that there was, in fact, no Bones to pop out of nowhere. So, I silently treaded forward, walking uneasily as I rapidly looked around.

My heart was practically in my throat when I had felt something practically breathing down my next. When I looked behind me, nothing was there. I turned back around quickening my pace only for it to happen again.

I broke into a sprint, but I am not in shape and it was fairly short. To say I needed to exercise more was a complete understatement of the millennium. I wasn’t fast enough to escape whatever had been creepily breathing down my neck like that one uncle at a family reunion.

A shadowy tendril wrapped around my ankle as I stood hunched over, catching my breath. Suddenly, I was yanked backwards and then I was on the ground, nails digging into the dirt.

Now would be a wonderful time for Bones and the rest of the graveyard pals to show up, but I knew better than to hope for something that might not happen.

I kicked and trashed at the thing that had grabbed me until I fell to the ground with a thud. Screaming, I darted from the shadowy creature, running as fast as I could because something deep in my bones told me it was following me. It felt surreal, like running to the next room after turning the lights off except this time you could probably die.

I ran. Faster than I had ever run before, faster than I ever would again. I ran and I ran and in a split second, Bones had emerged from the brush in just enough time to be my cushion. I collided with him almost instantly.

Do you ever just look at someone, deep into their eyes, and see every emotion known to man as they let out the most startling scream ever produced? It sounded more like a crow call being cut off by being blindsided, but I owed him a little respect after knocking him seven ways to next year.

Bones laid on the ground for a while, just staring up at nothing. It was a bit concerning - I even wondered if he could get concussions, but I tried not to think to hard on the pain I caused him.

“Can I ask what that was for?” He was serious, so much so that I honestly was a little terrified. He sat up, dusting himself off and righting his hat.

I pointed and just beyond where I had crashed into him, stood the creature that was big and black, like a shadow, but it had about a thousand blinking eyes and a mouth that curled upwards, baring the sharpest teeth I wish I never saw. Tendrils wiggled and waved beside it, as if waiting for me to get too close again.

“Are ye fokin’ me sideways?” His voice had raised several octaves, probably terrified too at the creature that just so sadistically stared at us like I would stare at bacon. Mm, bacon.

Bones stood, grabbing me with him before tugging me further away. The creature did not follow.

“Are ye alright, Nef?” It was the first time he said my name.

“It dragged me.” I stared up at him, gesturing to the dirt that had caked itself on me during the joyride. “What was that?”

His face hardened and he looked down at my ankle and for the first time, I noticed the black ring around my ankle, as if it had inked on me or something.

“Not good.” Was all he said before he tugged me with him, silently, until we reached the others and of course, Percy was with them. “It got the wee lass.”

They murmured, but I didn’t care much. I just wanted to get away from whatever that was, but if all those movies were right, this wasn’t over.

#dancing with the bones #original story #romance #halloween fic #inspired by hocus pocus and halloweentown #cezn's writing

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doctor48md · 7 years ago

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AKB48 49th Single Senbatsu Sousenkyo: Post-Mortem

Depending on who you ask, last night was either the best Sousenkyo in 48G history, or the worst, or in my case, a little bit of both. Starting from the atrocious beachside weather, down to the final speech in that concert hall in Okinawa, the events of the past 48 hours were so polarizing, that it made Dai Sokaku Matsuri 2014 look like a birthday party. This is the first time a 48G event has left me with so many more questions than answers. As much as I try to make sense of the numbers, I am still left in this state of confusion. But let’s try to see if we can find the order in this chaos.

1. Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results

Look, you’ve proved your god damn point. Enough is enough. Stop kicking us when we’re already down.

The glaring futility of this battle was obvious from the very start. Admittedly, I came into this year’s Sousenkyo carrying the same hesitation I had after last year’s results. I already knew it was going to turn out this way, yet for some reason, there was this tiny glimmer of hope that maybe, maybe things could still be a little different this year. Just maybe, we would somehow be able to overcome the almost-10,000-vote lead Sashihara had on Mayu?

Of course, though, as with all lofty ambitions and unrealistic goals, this dream came crashing down around Mayu and her fans, after which the ruins caught fire and burned away into the ashes of oblivion.

Maybe I’m just projecting here, but you could see it in her eyes, even before she got up from her seat. The disappointment, the frustration, the exhaustion, and worst of all, the realization that no matter what she did, there was no way she would ever experience victory ever again as long as the immovable object that was Sashihara Rino existed.

And that’s when it came. I’ve seen my fair share of graduation announcements before, but this is the first time where I truly felt a sense of anguish behind it. Again, maybe I’m just projecting, but when the words came out of Mayu’s mouth, they felt… heavy. It felt like she was finally giving up, her spirit battered and broken after years of fighting this godforsaken battle.

Of course, we should also take a step back and look at what this means in the grander scheme of things. With Mayu now making her intentions known, the challenges that lie ahead for AKB48 are clear. Team B’s manpower crunch is a priority issue that needs to be settled quickly; the solutions are there already in the form of our Draft picks and Kenkyuuseis, they just need to be executed in a timely, efficient manner.

2. Insanity: doing the same thing over and over… oh

Speaking of insanity, we can’t forget the one moment that’s currently blowing up the Japanese Twittersphere. An idol? Getting married? While still in the group? Talk about absolute madness!

I’m personally of the opinion that there’s no true right or wrong way to deal with a scandal, but this one really takes the cake in terms of its potential fallout. Sutou Ririka really made one hell of a gamble last night. #20 UG position be damned; she had bigger things to worry about. Bunshun was loaded and ready to fire, but no way was she going to let them pull the trigger. Before the S-bomb could even be dropped, she detonated it prematurely, going nuclear with a shock announcement during her speech that threw the audience of members into absolute chaos. Admittedly, she left us more questions than answers, with a chain reaction across the group that left members, staff and fans bewildered, and even a few visibly pissed off seniors. No doubt NMB48 is currently locked-down in full damage control mode right now. We’re expecting a press conference within the next 24 to 48 hours to fully explain the situation, but until then, someone needs to go and prepare the popcorn machine.

3. Flight of the Ibis: The Rise of NGT48

Now for the more macroscopic phenomena. The entry of an entire legion of junior members from Niigata brought with it an interesting break from tradition: NGT48, despite this being only their second Sousenkyo, would end up securing just as many spots as their seniors in NMB48, and even securing a Kami7 position extremely early on in their lifespan. Their overall rank share sports an impressive improvement of 11.25%, from 1 to 10, taking away positions from all the other sister groups in almost-equal proportions. That aside, though, the rest of the rank shares hold steady from before – AKB48 maintains plurality thanks to new entrants and promising juniors from Team 8 and their team of Kenkyuuseis, while both SKE48 and NMB48 focused their efforts more on pushing their existing rank-ins into higher positions across the board.

Back to NGT48, though; A shake-up in their hierarchy may very well be on the cards, considering how differently the management-back pushes performed in comparison to their peers. While Takakura and Nakai managed decent positions in the Undergirls tier, Kato fell way behind, only just managing to hold her position in the Upcoming Girls tier. In comparison, we have Row-2s like Ogino Yuka and Honma Hinata breaking into Senbatsu with vote leads numbering in the tens of thousands. One can’t help but wonder where this will leave the three frontliners in the months ahead.

4. AKB48’s Senbatsu Problem

For AKB48, however, despite securing a majority in overall rank share, their performance at the Senbatsu level leaves something to be desired. With only 4 native members in Senbatsu, being surpassed by SKE48’s 5, this is AKB48’s worst Senbatsu rank share of all time. The exit of several high-profile members from Sousenkyo this year (Kashiwagi, Shimazaki, Muto, Kojima H.) meant that we would be losing a huge share of votes in lieu of pushing in junior members at the lower tiers. Making matters worse, Mukaichi lost a whopping 12,000 votes to crash out into the Undergirls tier; while it’s still a Center position, some might wonder if this is an ominous sign for her career in the near future.

So what does this mean for AKB48? I had foreseen about two to three years ago that this would eventually become an issue sooner or later, so my personal opinion is that AKB48 should just ride it out. Juniors like Mukaichi, Okada, Takahashi J., Kato and Kawamoto have shown promise; they just need time to build up their fanbases to match those of their sister group seniors and peers. Maybe next year we’ll start to see more results on that front, but until then, resources still have to be invested into expanding their respective individual profiles.

5. The Sousenkyo Arms Race: Compressing the Curve

Black bars denote drops in vote-for-rank, and white bars indicate increases.

With the year-on-year trend of voter swings towards the lower tiers, we see a further definition of pre-existing voting patterns this year. Votes-for-rank at the Next, Future and Upcoming Girls tiers continue to climb steadily, with correspondingly-significant increases in the vote requirements for those tiers. On the other hand, votes-for-rank at the Senbatsu and Undergirls tiers continue to drop significantly, reflective not only of the shift towards voting for junior members, but also the exit of all the big names at the top driving voters away from those tiers.

The overall result is a compression of the curve; it is becoming increasingly difficult to rank in in the first place, but for those who are already in the game, making your way up the ranks is becoming significantly easier given the decreasing vote-for-rank requirements at the higher tiers. Members and fans would do well to take note of this ongoing trend, should they wish to take advantage of it, or at least to be able to plan their voting strategies accordingly.

What now?

So, was this the best Sousenkyo in 48G history, or the worst, or even a little bit of both? You decide. The results seem to point towards a mixed picture: 48G’s juniors are certainly proving their worth and living up to their promises, but one can’t help but be worried at the direction we’re heading, especially when we consider the complicated situation our higher-tier members must face in the year ahead. Things will undoubtedly be difficult for 48G and its leaders. It is up to the members and Management to reassess their chances, and to do what is necessary to weather the storms ahead. The bad weather at Okinawa was merely the start of their problems.

As for me? I think I need a break. Starting tomorrow, 19 June 2017, I am placing this blog on indefinite hiatus. Between the exhausting, hectic work schedule of a house officer, I find that it’s becoming increasingly difficult to do what I usually do on this blog. I’ll come back every few weeks to say hi, maybe make a post or two, and answer any asks that may come my way, but I doubt I’ll be able to put up lengthy essays like this anymore in the near future. No point continuing, since it seems like I’m talking to a wall everytime I do so anyway.

I deeply apologize to all my followers, old and new, (especially the few that joined over the past few days). I will keep this blog online, my ask box will remain open, and every post that I have ever put up will still be searchable via the appropriate tags. I just cannot guarantee that any new posts on this blog will be as in-depth or as content-driven as before.

#48opinion #akb48 49th single senbatsu sousenkyo #akb48 #ske48 #nmb48 #hkt48 #ngt48 #stu48 #watanabe mayu #sashihara rino #sutou ririka #ogino yuka

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