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#who is in pain more often than not despite waving it off 99% of the time

knightprincess · 3 years

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Cadet Training (The Bad Batch)

Words: 3166

Warning: None but a lot of hurt/comfort (I think)

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Cadet training for the clones was never easy. Although it was just about bearable for the regular clones. It was constant torment for Clone Force 99. They never got a day off from training like others did. From the moment they had been able to begin training, it had been non stop, a constant pressure to succeed, to obey the orders given or face punishment.

TECH Tech's training consisted of testing his knowledge. He'd be hooked up to an array of machines, some to monitor his brain waves, other his heart rate and blood pressure. Another that would give him a nasty shock. Once he was hooked up the testing began, he was normally given questions on the screens before him, he had a certain amount of time to answer them. If he succeeded, another question would appear. If he was to fail, he would receive a electric shock. If he ever asked for it to stop, the instructor would only up the power. Being sure to stop before he lost consciousness. As soon as the shocks stopped he was told to get back to his feet and continue. Maker help him should he ask for a bathroom break or any break in general. On the days he wasn't facing the quizzes, then he was normally dragged to the medical bay, to undergo horrendous scans. The worst part always being he could feel everything they did. The pain being unbearable, the few times he was able to get strangled words out, he was always calling for his brothers, begging them to make it stop and rescue him from the constant pain. He'd be poked and prodded with needles and other things as if he was a pin cushion. Normally thirsty and hungry as he would be denied food and drink for hours before these scans and tests. If he was to say he was hungry or needed a drink, he would be harshly told to be silent and wait.

When it was over it was a struggle to even walk, most of the time he used the walls to prop himself up on his way to where ever wanted to go. His words would be slurred, the best he could do with the splitting headache to be blurring his vision. He'd struggle to hold eating utensils when in the mess hall, only just being able to grip the cup to drink something. After a while he'd give up completely and settle for returning to the barracks, another night of going hungry. Crosshair would never allow it and always followed behind his younger brother, helping Tech along to ensure he got there safely. Upon making sure Tech got to his bunk, he retrieve a few ration bars, ensuring Tech didn't go hungry. WRECKER Wrecker's training wasn't as bad as his brothers to look at. He'd be constantly pushed to his limit with blasters, bombs and other explosives. Often being sent to the training rooms to test his skills against droids. If he was ever hit by one, the course would be reset until he got it right. Often times had he missed meal times because of this. He'd be forced to repeat the disarming over and over again, until he got it right first time. Yet he hated destroying things that had meaning to him. Like one time an instructor noticed his original tooka doll and picture of his brothers. Both had been stuffed into a metal box with little care, a detonator thrown in with them.

That day he'd been tasked with disarming an bomb within a time limit. If he succeeded, he'd get the things taken from him back. If he failed then the blast would destroy the small metal box and the things stuffed so carelessly inside. That day had broke Wrecker, losing the photo was like losing his brothers, he cried himself to sleep that night, believing he had failed them. Although a new Tooka doll had appeared on his bunk, a small tag in messy writing saying its name was Lula.

Wreckers worst training session by far was the one where he was training with blasters. He'd only spoken of his exhaustion and strains before then. But that day his trainer had dragged Hunter, Tech and Crosshair to the firing range. He been informed their lives were on the line this time, they would be on the firing range, between each target. If he missed any target his brothers would ended up being hit. Wrecker had protested as did his brothers, their lives were in his hands, he knew his brothers trusted him, but he didn't want that responsibility just yet. He didn't want to hurt them in any way.

He knew it would be difficult, with the trainer tying each of his brothers to a make shift stake between each target, blind folding them so they couldn't see what was happening. To Wrecker it was like they were set to be executed by firing squad, like they were the criminals and he was the executor, like he was the hand that would bring swift death. He tried so hard to protest against it, refusing, even when his train held a gun to his head, even when he was smacked in the face with the butt of the gun he still refused.

He eventually fired upon hearing the encouraging words of his brothers. Hearing they trusted him and believed him even when he didn't believe in himself. Although he had hit every target, he'd come dangerously close to each of them. A bolt had hit just to the right of Crosshair, mere inches from his shoulder, another had been close to hitting Hunter, the bolt hitting the wall above him, where as Tech's had missed by inches, instead hitting the floor in front of him. A comment or two had escaped the train's lips, yet nothing of support but instead patronizing him further, stamping out the confidence he had gained. Something to do with a gag for his brothers next time.

Tech, Crosshair and Hunter had all bared witness to Wrecker's beating that day. Tied helpless to the make shift stakes as he was beaten for his words in response to the sadistic trainer, beaten for standing up for himself and them. Despite their efforts to free themselves, they had been force to listen as Wrecker shouted for it to stop and screamed in agonizing pain when the side of his face was held to one of the metal containers, mere seconds before it exploded. The Trainer didn't seem to care, instead pulling the crying Wrecker to his feet afterwards, ignoring the pleas to be left alone. Nala Se had been the rescuer that day, investigating upon hearing Wrecker scream. She took him with her, ordering Tech, Crosshair and Hunter to be freed and sent back to their barracks.

Despite her best efforts Nala Se couldn't save Wrecker from permanent scaring. She kept him in her lab for days, doing her best to take away his pain as she removed shrapnel and his left eye. Replacing the eye with a cybernetic one. Her examinations showing he'd be partially death in the left ear. Yet she had also showed kindness, even more so when she had taken the punishment of the Bounty Hunter into her own hands, ensuring he wouldn't be heartless to one of her special five again.

CROSSHAIR Crosshair's training normally consisted of being isolated for days on end. His accuracy was beyond that of any other, so his path of a sniper had been chosen for him. Forced on him even. At first it would be overnight stays in the training facilities, perched in a snipers nest, flat on his stomach, he'd be allowed breaks to move around and join the others in the mess hall. But as time went by, the conditions got worse. He'd be denied simple breaks to stretch his limbs, bathroom trips or even sleep. Food and water became a method to reward him for his good work in training.

After a while the trips to the training facility wasn't enough. His instructor insisting he needed something more real. So would take him out to a landing pad in the constant rain, there he'd be tasked with eliminating all distractions and fire on his fellow cadets, each time they'd be unaware. If Crosshair was to refuse then he'd be beaten, stamped on and other things, at times his own instructor had used a electric torture device to deliver a shock, all in an attempt to get him to comply. If he still refused a loaded gun would be held to the side of his head, or he'd be put in some sort of strangle hold. Crosshair had bones broken one more than one occasion. Normally ribs, wrist, ankle and fingers.

Many a times Crosshair had been taken outside in the pouring rain, without cover, food or water, he'd be left their for days, only being sent a location of his target, normally another cadet but occasionally a fully trained trooper would would fire back. He was tasked to stun them all. To make it easier, his instructor told him to make up stories about them, to make himself think they deserved it, he was told to ignore his guilt over firing at them and ignore they were clones just like him. Instead he was told to think of it like a game, with everyone he stunned he'd be earning the right of bathroom use, of food and water, of being able to return to his barracks and see his brothers again.

But it only got worse. Eventually stunning his fellow cadets and fully trained troopers wasn't enough anymore. His instructor wanted him to use live rounds, to potentially kill them. He was branded as teaching them a lesson, of setting an example to other cadets who misbehaved. Every time Crosshair refused he was met with a brutal beating, already weak from days without food and lying flat on his stomach. Already weak from his countless other beating from answering back with snarky comments. He'd been denied medical attention until he completed his training session.

When he was sent to the med bay, he found no comfort. It was made perfectly clear to him by the elegant Kaminoans he wasn't welcome there, they tolerated him a best, doing the bare minimum to ease his pain and ensuring his injuries and wounds would heal. Pain killers weren't a luxury extended to him, instead he felt the pain, eventually growing to accept it as a companion, refusing to show it to another unless he couldn't bare it any longer.

By far his worst training session was when he was up on the landing platform, the rain pelting down on him, hardly bothered him anymore. He was told via a comm link four targets were heading into his directory, he was to shoot them. At first Crosshair was certain he wouldn't have a problem with it, he grown used to using cadets and troopers as a target practice. Yet this time was different, the targets in question was a fully grown trooper and three cadets. Tech, Hunter and Wrecker along with ninety-nine. Almost instantly Crosshair yelled he couldn't, no wouldn't fire on them. They were his brothers and one of the few who actually showed care to him. Ninety-Nine had named each of them, treated them like he did with all the other cadets, with care and loved. Always helping them with something.

His instructor had come on to his landing pad after that, demanding he shoot all four to kill. Stamping on Crosshair's back when he refused, the beating when on for quite some time. Only stopping when Crosshair had managed to grab his rifle and point it had the vicious man tasked with training him. Even then no emotion escaped his blush pink features. Instead his instructor called him names, often accompanied by the words useless and defect. Through it all Crosshair would yell even scream he didn't want to kill his brothers, loud enough they could hear him and pin point his location, loud enough they would know what they're being used for this time.

The nightmares were always the worst part of his torture. They were the mental scars of his training. When he was actually allowed to sleep, he'd been tormented by the nightmares, a scenario being played out where he'd have to hunt his brothers, torture them for information and eventually kill them in a public way. Every time he'd wake up screaming he didn't want to kill them. Each time Wrecker would offer him Lula, as comfort. Tech would reassure him it was just a dream and they were all there, alive and well. Where as Hunter would stay by his side until he fell back to sleep. The cycle would repeat itself several times over, each time the stun setting on the gun becoming more appealing, until Crosshair would eventually give up on the idea of sleep. Instead he would be content watching over his brothers and reading something on Tech's data-pad, all while playing with Hunter's knife and protecting Lula for Wrecker.

HUNTER Hunter's training mainly centered around his senses and tracking. Much like Crosshair it was far more physical than most. Although he'd also find himself locked in a lab for what was supposed to be testing but felt more like his own personal brand of torture. His favorite training was when he got to spend time with his brothers. Normally when they were in training facilities together, going through different scenarios. They worked well as a team and was sure to let his tired brothers know it.

His training as an individual however he hated, with a vengeance. Often times was Crosshair the one he had to track, with the order to subdue my any means necessary. Every time his sharp eyed brother would be under the impression the person coming would be trying to kill him, as if he'd been brain washed. Each time he would be in for a fight even when Crosshair had been starved for days. He'd always say I'm sorry before stunning him, he'd hold his brother close, maker knows what would happen to him for being caught.

The days in the lab he hated most. Mostly due to be stuck in some kind of tub, helpless to do anything as Tech yelled for help and for someone to save him. In his tub he'd be subjected to a manor of different things, noises only he could hear, with a pitch high enough to frazzle his hearing for days. Smells powerful enough to burn his air ways and leave a metal tinged after taste in his mouth. multi-color lights so bright, he would be blinded and couldn't see the Kaminoan outside the tube. He's be left with lights flashing behind his eyes long after the bright lights had been turned off.

When not in the tube, he would be strapped to a table like Tech, poked and prodded, different tests administered. He'd always know when they were due, being forbidden from drinking or eating anything for hours before hand. His struggles only resulted in pain, multiple times he'd been struck with something across his midsection. The blow hard enough he could feel his ribs crunch beneath the object, and the air leave his lungs from the pure shock of it. He'd always think of his brothers in those times. Think about needing to be strong for them, so he could help them when they all returned to the barracks.

Although even those thoughts had been used against him. Manipulated to serve a purpose. Countless times had the Kaminoans in the lab put goggles on him while strapped to the lab table. They'd play videos of his brother's training, specifically when they would be punished for failing, answering back to the instructors or just doing something considered out of line. Each time it was when he wasn't there to save them or when he was unable to get to them. The clips of Tech when he was being electrocuted in his tests or yelling out from pain during his lab stints. Wrecker's being his scarring injury or when he'd been called every name under the sun, being hit with objects and humiliated by his awful instructor. Where as Crosshair's was pretty much every training session, when he was starved for days, beaten and berated, shocked and had guns held to his head or a knife to his throat. Where the people he loved most were used against him.

One such occasion where the videos were shown to him. Hunter had yelled out for it to stop, as always being ignored, so he had constantly belted the side of his head off the equipment so close to him, shattering the goggles. The Kaminoans had removed the remnants afterwards scolding him, as the injuries sustained were patched up. Although it would leave a scar as a reminder, a scar he'd eventually hide beneath his trademark bandanna. Yet he always felt as he deserved the scar as it reminded him of the times he failed to protect his brothers.

Returning to the barracks after those tube tests was never easy. The lights in the halls were always bright enough to blind him, to the point he would hold his hands out and feel his way around to find his way back. Countless times had the bleach smell to radiate through the Military facilities burn his air ways, making it hard for him to breath. Tech would always help by turning the lights down to the lowest setting possible, although that was to help Crosshair too. He'd also find a sweet smelling fragrance of some kind, normally vanilla and cover the bleach smell in their room with it. Although their private barracks always had the smell of home. A cross between engine oil and gun powder.

Yet still he felt the need to protect his brothers. Guiding Tech to his bunk and putting the data-pad at a safe distance on the table in the center of the room. He'd make sure Wrecker had a picture of them together near him and his favorite blanket and Lola if Crosshair didn't have it. As for Crosshair, he'd always be there when he woke up screaming from nightmares, just as he knew when Crosshair had gotten his knife as something to hold on to. Yet he didn't say anything as it gave both comfort. Getting to sleep on the other hand was a far more difficult task. Often times he'd wait until his brothers were asleep, or at least Tech and Wrecker. More often than not he'd end up crying himself to sleep, knowing the only one to hear would be Crosshair, who often helped by placing a hand on his shoulder while pulling his blankets up to keep him warm. Crosshair being their somehow eased the pain and sent him into a somewhat peaceful sleep.

#Star Wars #clone force 99 #the bad batch #cadet training #cadets #kamino #Tech #wrecker #Crosshair #hunter #Clones #Clone Cadets

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deathonyourtongue · 4 years

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They Would Try

Summary: The color has washed out of everyday life, and it’s the routine that keeps him going. Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader Word Count: 2.2K Warnings: HEAVY angst. Description of some palliative care procedures. A/N: You know the drill. Sorry in advance. Bring the tissues. The song for this one is The Wisp Sings - Winter Aid ____________________________________

Let me sleep I am tired of my grief And I would like you To love me, to love me, to love me

Men deal with grief in different ways. Some choose the path of anger and violence, lashing out at anyone and everyone, bringing about their own demise because they cannot release their hearts. Others choose to martyr their feelings, vowing never to love again, forever shutting the door in the wall they’ve built around their hearts. Rarely, a man will choose persistent kindness.

Having suffered the great blow to his heart, he will treat others with unfailing gentility, understanding that everyone has their plight and that everyone, in some way, is grieving. It’s the sort of kindness that makes it clear the man providing it is permanently broken, his heart shattered. Most who are privy to it, are able to feel the anguish coming off such a man in waves; I’ve been hurt before, please do not hurt me again, for I cannot take another blow. The kindness in and of itself is a shield, a way of pretending to be okay when one is clearly not. Of all the ways to cope, it is the most heartbreaking.

His days are routine now, a small comfort in a world that no longer truly holds any interest. The color has washed out of everyday life, and it’s the routine that keeps him going. Knowing the things he must do, make it possible to get out of bed every morning.

When the alarm goes off quietly, he rolls over, eyes still closed, willing himself to make it through the day without tears. Happiness has long since removed itself from his vocabulary, and it’s rare that he does not find himself wiping his eyes either due to constant, dull ache in his heart or at the sight of something that sparks a memory of a time when he could laugh and smile. Mostly, the tears come in the quiet hours, when there’s no one watching with concern pouring out of every fiber of their being. He does his best to cry in private, but sometimes it can’t be helped and he finds his shoulders shaking as he nuzzles into your shoulder, the tears always silent. One of the doctors said it was best to not be upset, lest it aggravate the situation, and it’s something he’s taken to heart ever since.

A quick shower is the first must on the to-do list. In and out only to maintain basic hygiene so as to pass the inspections he knows are always being conducted, even if he’s told to the contrary. Fresh clothing completes the ritual, leaving him free to take care of more important matters.

The curtains are opened along with the windows to circulate the air lest the room grows stale and once a week, the sheets are changed. The birds singing help him remember better times and often, he has to stop in his tracks and curl in on himself, heart aching for what it can no longer have.

His hair’s grown substantially since that first day, and though he’s perpetually asked to take a day for himself, to go get a cut and a shave, he can’t bring himself to leave. His full attention is required and nothing can get in the way of that, least of all something so self-serving.

It’s been two years since he came home to find you in Nightingale. Two years since he learned the horrors of what you went through on your own. Two years since he came home to find the bed soaked in your blood.

Two years since he last heard you speak.

Henry’s best friend is growing impatient. It’s been long enough. Too long, if you ask him.

“Don’t you think it’s time you moved on, mate? I mean, you’ve given up your career, you rarely leave the house, and at family things, you’re a downright stick-in-the-mud! It’s time for you to let go, to let her be taken care of by professionals somewhere, and go on with your life!” He vents to Henry one morning, having barged in shortly after breakfast.

Henry looks stung, words unable to describe what he truly wants to say in his heart of hearts. He doesn’t need to speak, however, as your nurse, Kathy, hears the whole thing. Incensed, she has to take a moment to collect her thoughts before stepping into the room.

“Pardon me, Jonathan, but did I just hear you ask Henry to let go of his wife so he can, what, go back to whatever life it is you approve of better? Shame on you. Have you no heart?”

“Of course I do! I just...He’s wasting his life laying here next to her, crying himself to sleep and wishing for things to change, when it’s clear they won’t. She’s not coming out of this-this catatonia or whatever it is. She’s a vegetable that can breathe, that’s it. He...I just don’t want him to spend the rest of his life moping here next to her, willing things to go back as they were. It’s not healthy.”

“Would you say the same if it were your own wife, sir? Or heaven forbid, your mother or sister?” Kathy asks, eyes wide in disbelief, her hands shaking in ire.

“I would, yes! It’s not like he’s even doing anything. He just lays there all day, gazing sadly at her. All her care is provided by you, is it not? He’s wasting the prime of his life, all because he--”

“Actually, sir,” Kathy interjects, clearing her throat and blocking what she knows will be too painful a sentence for anyone to hear. “Mr. Cavill does 99% of her care on his own. I only visit once every two weeks to update her chart and help with certain dressings that are hard to manage on one’s own.”

“Dressings?” Jonathan balks, not understanding in the slightest.

“She gets bedsores, despite...Despite my best attempts,” Henry finally speaks, his voice hoarse from lack of use. There’s shame in his eyes and even as Kathy rubs his shoulders, it’s clear that it’s a touchy subject.

“Mr. Taylor, why don’t you sit a while? Keep your friend company so you can better understand what he does all day,” Kathy suggests through gritted teeth, her tone making it clear that it’s a demand, more than an invite. Henry manages a small smile of thanks to Kathy, hoping this will put any protests as to why he’s chosen to put his life on hold, permanently to rest.

“When you’re ready, son,” Kathy nods, watching as Henry moves to your side, kneeling next to you on the bed. Tucking his head down, he whispers to you tenderly, his tone apologetic and full of regret.

“We have to change your dressings, love. We’ll be as quick as we can. I’m so sorry.” Henry’s snuffles, his voice pinched with emotion and when he lifts his head again, tears fill his eyes, though they stubbornly refuse to fall.

Jonathan is appropriately horrified when he sees what’s beneath the old dressing on your lower back; Your groan of pain certainly doesn’t help matters.

“Looks much better, Henry. It should heal completely within the week,” Kathy says softly, her smile encouraging and understanding. Henry only nods, his breathing shallow and erratic as he waits for it to be over so he can tuck you back in.

“Everything’s in order, love. Do you need me to stay?” Kathy asks, eyeing Jonathan with disdain, not trusting him to open his mouth and say something utterly heartless after she’s left.

“We’re all good on this front, Kathy. Thank you, as always.” Henry shakes his head, giving her the same smile that breaks her heart each time she visits. Kind but filled with anguish, the feigned happiness never reaches his blue eyes, and she thinks of her own son, vowing to check in with him when she gets home.

Henry smoothes your hair away from your face with a gentle hand, a soft kiss to your forehead following after. He takes a moment to collect himself before moving off the bed and around to the side closest to Jonathan.

“W-what are you doing?” His friend asks, leaning forward in his seat, trying to see what Henry is pulling out of a mini-fridge that now serves as your nightstand. Henry doesn’t say a word, knowing Jonathan’s question will be answered in time. Two syringes, one pre-filled with saline and the other with a pinkish-brown liquid, are set on top of your sheets, and Henry pulls a chair close to your bed, snapping on a fresh pair of gloves after pulling the sheets down far enough. With the utmost care, he inserts the second syringe, the procedure becoming apparent to Jonathan by the look on his face.

“She can’t eat on her own. We tried assisted feeding for a bit in the beginning, but it didn’t work,” Henry explains, his tears gone as he focuses on pushing the contents slowly through the tube that had long ago been inserted directly into your GI tract. When your meal is done, Henry flushes the line with saline, and covers you back up, albeit momentarily.

By the time he’s done your morning routine, which includes two more procedures Jonathan couldn’t imagine doing, not even for a loved one, Henry’s friend is beside himself, tears of regret streaming down his face. Henry takes it in stride, knowing that no one, save maybe for Kathy and now Jonathan, truly understands what it takes to keep you alive and relatively healthy.

“I’m sorry, mate! I’m so-so sorry!” He blubbers, hugging Henry tightly, his initial stance shattered by what he’s seen. Henry cups the back of his head, offering comfort to what he knows is a shock.

“To answer your question. I couldn’t let her stay there, in that cold place, where the staff just go through the motions. She’s my wife, she’s my responsibility. In sickness and in health. I love her too much to let her waste away in a place like that, Jonathan. Even though...Even though life is not like it was before, she’s still my love. Still the other half of my heart. Do you understand?”

Jonathan nods hurriedly, sobbing quietly and knowing full well he’s never had that type of love, nor given it. It makes him feel ant-sized and foolish for even thinking that Henry could just give it all up.

It’s well past lunch by the time Jonathan leaves and having skipped breakfast, Henry eats only because he must. It’s the bare minimum, but enough to keep him going another day and that’s all that matters.

He tries not to look into mirrors much lately; the man that looks back at him is foreign. Gone are the muscles he’d been known for, the bright eyes and beaming grin. Gray creeps further and further into his beard and hairline now, and the hollows of his face are far more prominent. His sallowness always spooks those that visit, and if he’s not ready for it, it scares him a little too. Today, he looks, tries to find any remnant of that man that once was. There’s always a bit left, but as time goes on, it gets harder and harder to find. Today, he doesn’t see it, and it terrifies him. He has to keep hold of that man, if only so that if the day comes that you should wake from your condition, there may be something familiar for you to grasp onto.

In the small hallway that gives way to the room the two of you still share, Henry slides down the wall and curls up, sobbing softly, closer than he’s ever been to giving up. He allows himself a meager five minutes to wallow before wiping his eyes with the inside of his shirt and padding back into the room, knowing there’s more to be done.

He bathes you, washes and combs your hair, and sets to work on your physical therapy, intent on keeping as much of your muscle tone and mass as he can. By the time he’s finished, he’s emotionally exhausted and physically worn out.

Crawling into his usual spot at your side, he holds you close, sniffling. Today is one of those rare days, one he knows may do you more harm than good, but Henry’s always been honest with you and despite everything that’s happened, that will never change.

“I miss you, my love. I miss you s-so much,” he stammers out, the tears coming easily, pooling on the pillow next to your shoulder as he reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together. Henry lets go of the burden in his heart, knowing full well you wouldn’t want him to keep it in any longer than he has to.

“I lo-love you so m-much, darling. Please-please, come back to me. I n-need you here wi-with me!” His sobs soft, he shakes more with each rattled inhale; it’s a condition that hasn’t gone unnoticed by him or Kathy or indeed his own family, but one he’s willing to ignore so long as he can continue to provide you with care.

It prevents him from feeling the first sign of hope in two years; your fingers slowly curling around his, squeezing weakly.

And so the day goes on, Henry’s list of musts growing smaller with each task he completes, until, come dusk, he finally finds himself curled up again, this time to sleep what few hours his mangled heart and tortured mind allow, hoping for the strength to wake another day and do it all over again.

#henry cavill x reader #henry cavill #fic #deathonyourtongueoriginals #angst

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beca-mitchell · 4 years

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losing grip (on sinking ships) (1/1)

Summary: High School AU: Beca ends up attending the winter formal with Chloe...and Chloe's boyfriend.

Word count: 3.9k

Part of now i see daylight—an au series that explores beca and chloe’s lives together as if they had been childhood friends.

Read below or on AO3.

* * * * *

Age: 15/16 Sophomore Year of High School January

Beca thought she would feel better about coming back to school after Christmas break. Her self-imposed isolation from Chloe had been painful, but oddly Beca feels somewhat refreshed, ready to go back to school, getting back to making music, and training for the upcoming track season.

It’s just...Chloe. Chloe is still on her mind. It had helped to not see her for a few weeks, but if anything it only really cemented the fact that her stupid crush on her best friend wasn’t going away. On top of all of that, now Beca feels guilty. She feels guilty for freezing Chloe out. She feels guilty for all the perceived dishonesty that has built up over the past year. However long she’s had these new, crazy feelings for Chloe, it has absolutely taken a toll on their relationship and Beca knows it is largely her own doing.

It is also a bit of a stretch to hope Chloe hasn’t noticed.

Especially considering that Chloe has shown up on her doorstep the day before they're due back in school, looking very cute and bundled up in her big winter coat and hat.

“Beca...hi.”

Beca’s mother brushes past them on the way out, already rushing. Beca rolls her eyes, stepping aside to let her mother past. “Have a good day at school, girls!” her mother calls haphazardly over her shoulder.

“We don’t have school today,” Chloe points out, wrinkling her nose in confusion.

“I know,” Beca murmurs, stepping aside to fully let Chloe inside. “But she doesn’t. Clearly.”

Chloe chuckles at that, a dry little sound. Her eyes are sympathetic as she shrugs off her winter coat. Beca takes the coat automatically, both of them going through the motions by force of habit.

“We just got back from Florida,” Chloe says finally when Beca has yet to say anything else. She unclenches her fist, reveal a small metal necklace that had escaped Beca’s notice earlier. It is a simple seashell design—a locket of sorts—with Beca’s name engraved on the back. “I got you something,” Chloe explains unnecessarily. “Um, it’s…” she trails off, watching Beca hesitantly. “If you want it.”

It breaks Beca’s heart to know that their relationship soured to this point. “Of course I do,” Beca mumbles, momentarily too ashamed to look at Chloe.

“Um...and also if you want me.”

Beca’s eyes dart up at that, comically-wide, she’s sure. But it can’t be helped. She had to have misheard Chloe. “Uh, what?” she asks, unable to stop the waver in her voice. Her heart pounds. She clutches the necklace tightly to stop her hands from fidgeting under Chloe’s incredibly blue gaze.

“If you’ll...still have me. As a friend.”

Beca is struck by twin sensations of relief and disappointment. “I...of course, Chlo. That’s...of course we’re friends. You’re my best friend.” My only friend, sometimes.

Chloe clasps her hands together nervously. “I didn’t mean to make that sound so dramatic...but I kept thinking all break that I did something wrong. Or that I hurt you in some way.” She reaches forward tentatively to grab Beca’s forearms. When Beca makes no move to jolt away, she steps closer. “You’d tell me, right? If I did something to hurt you?”

“Yes,” Beca responds truthfully. It is the whole truth. She would tell Chloe if Chloe had hurt her in some way. It’s just that this is...not Chloe’s doing. This whole “having feelings for her best friend” thing is not Chloe’s fault, if any fault can be attributed at all.

It’s just a hard place to be in, Beca knows that.

“I’ve just been...going through some things. Emotionally,” she explains with some evasion. “I can’t really talk about it yet, but...I’m not mad at you.”

Chloe’s eyes dim a little. “I want to be there for you.”

“I just needed some space.”

Her eyes dim further. “Not...from me, right?” She drops Beca’s arms, folding her arms across her midsection instead.

“No,” Beca lies, finally. “Can we just…” she sighs. “Can we just be okay? I’m sorry this break was a little weird. But you were going away and…”

Chloe blinks, shaking her head a little as if to clear her thoughts. “Yeah, yeah of course, Beca. Whatever you want.”

“No, just—I need you to know that we’re okay. And I’m going to try and be better,” Beca promises. “I’m sorry,” she says sincerely. “I missed you, you know?”

Chloe’s smile stretches slowly. “I missed you too, dork. I also plan on seeing way more of you this term.”

“Oh you do, do you?” Beca asks, finding it remarkably easy to sink back into the same banter with Chloe. She still feels incredibly guilty for freezing Chloe out when Chloe has absolutely no idea. She knows that the alternative of not having Chloe in her life at all is so much worse than whatever pains she feels at the thought of Chloe not reciprocating her feelings. Above all, Chloe is her best friend. I’m going to try, she vows, watching Chloe bite her lip in contemplation.

“Starting with Winter Formal,” Chloe declares.

Beca’s jaw drops. “What?”

“We’re going to the Winter Formal together. You, me, and Tom.”

Beca’s stomach plummets. “Oh that sounds” horrible “nice,” she finishes.

“I promise it won’t be like third-wheeling at all.” Chloe leans in closer. “We can pretend like he isn’t even there.”

It is exactly that—moments like that—which confuses Beca. Chloe frequently makes statements like that, usually in jest or teasing but still jarring all the same, and she does it so nonchalantly. Beca isn’t quite sure what she feels at that moment, but she knows that she wants to make Chloe happy. And Chloe clearly thinks that Beca is feeling somewhat excluded in some ways (sometimes she does, it’s true), so she’s making up it up to Beca in her own weird Chloe way.

Beca can’t help but love her for it; Beca can’t help but love her even more.

“Fine,” Beca says. “But I’m going dress-shopping by myself.”

Chloe pouts. “Are you—”

“Chloe.”

I can’t handle seeing you in various states of undress, parading around in pretty dresses. Looking like you do.

She holds her tongue.

“Fine,” Chloe finally agrees.

* * * * *

Beca takes a breath, straightening out the minuscule crease she finds in her dress. Every time she looks at herself in the mirror, she finds another imperfection.

Another flaw.

Another reason for her not to go to this stupid thing.

Another reason not to go just to watch Chloe and Tom dance the night away, making everybody jealous as they all watch from the sidelines.

Her phone chimes again, this time three times in a row. Beca sighs, moving to pick it up.

Chloe Hey my brother’s gonna drive us to Tom’s place soon!! Are you ready?? I’m so excited to see you!

Beca smiles despite the gnawing sensation in her stomach and quickly taps out a reply to Chloe. Chloe’s enthusiasm for everything had always been contagious and Beca finds herself still smiling as she finally moves to grab her handbag.

Beca Be right there!

Beca notes that her mother is nowhere to be found. She figures she’s out grabbing dinner. Beca kind of wishes her mother had brought her dinner as well so she could avoid dinner with Tom and Chloe before the dance, but then she wouldn’t have a ride to school and it would just be too complicated to explain to Chloe exactly why Beca wants to avoid dinner with her bonehead boyfriend.

She feels slightly guilty, thinking such things about Tom. He’s a nice enough guy, but Beca feels unnerved every time he so much as looks at her. It’s like he knows exactly what thoughts have floated through Beca’s head—the dark, wanting thoughts of his girlfriend. His girlfriend. Not Beca’s.

Beca wonders, not for the first time, if she can even still consider herself Chloe’s best friend. Things have been so weird recently. Uncomfortable. Beca’s sure it’s about 99% her fault, but she flounders more often than not and she wishes more than anything that Chloe could just see inside her head. Or at least feel her emotions.

Beca glances at her reflection again as she passes the mirror in the foyer, this time striding out the door with determination.

Despite things being weird with Chloe over the past little while, Beca holds out some hope that tonight will be different.

Tonight can be different.

* * * * *

“You look—” Beautiful. Stunning. “So nice,” Beca finishes lamely. She lets Chloe pull her into the backseat, smiling all the while. Chloe does look pretty with her hair in waves down over her shoulders. She is wearing a beautiful dark blue dress, longer than the cocktail-esque dress Beca has chosen. Beca tries not to note how their colors—red and blue—compliment each other so nicely.

“You look amazing,” Chloe says sincerely. “That dress is adorable.”

“I picked it out without your help thank you very much.”

“I never doubted you.”

Beca grins. This she can do. “Liar.”

Chloe sticks her tongue out. “Am not.”

Chloe’s brother purposefully jacks the music louder. “I can’t wait until you two losers get your licenses.”

Chloe yelps, punching the back of her brother’s seat. “Shut up. I’m getting mine soon. Be useful.”

Beca giggles, smiling shyly when Chloe’s eyes cut to her upon hearing her laugh. She shrugs, settling back in her seat. Hearing Chloe and her brother engage in banter is a reminder that everything can be normal. Everything can be lighthearted.

Nothing has to change, Beca tells herself. She can do this.

She glances at Chloe who is tapping out a message on her phone. Her eyes track over Chloe’s eyelashes, the curve of her nose, then the silhouette of her lips. Beca couldn’t stop the onslaught of thoughts even if she tried.

Full, Beca thinks, testing the word out in her mind. Full lips. Kissable. Kissable lips.

Her face grows hot as her mind begins conjuring up a full-fledged fantasy. She quickly looks away from Chloe and turns to stare out the window.

* * * * *

Tom pulls open the car door and is about to lean in when he notices Beca is sitting in place.

“Oh,” he says. “Switch with me, Beca.”

Beca wants to punch him. “No, I’m okay.”

Now Tom kind of looks like he wants to punch her.

“Dude, get out.”

Beca isn’t sure what comes over her. She crosses her arms. “Dude,” she mocks back. “Just sit in the front.”

Beca so knows what he wants to say—he wants to tell her that Chloe is his girlfriend. But in doing so, it would only embarrass him in front of both Chloe and her older brother. Even Tom has more self-respect than that.

Tom glares at Beca for a long moment.

“Just sit in front dude,” Max says, pinning Tom with a stare that has even Beca blinking from the intimidation.

“Fine,” he mutters.

“Sorry!” Chloe squeaks out, though before Beca can shoot her an incredulous expression for apologizing to that dickwad, Chloe shrugs. “Beca was here first.”

And because Chloe Beale just has a knack for dissipating tension, the tension does exactly that: it breaks, leaving them all in a pleasant silence save for the soft music coming from the speakers.

Beca tries not to smirk. She knows Tom can probably see her in the side mirror. It makes the temptation all the more pressing.

* * * * *

They grab burgers at the diner, Chloe sandwiched between Tom and Beca as they huddle at the counter. Their server smiles fondly at them, acknowledging that they all look stunning and that they’re probably excited to have a night out. Beca startles when Tom puts an arm around Chloe, jostling her in the process. She attempts to glare at him over Chloe’s shoulder, but he isn’t quite paying attention.

Beca sighs and puts her burger down, playing with her fries instead.

“What event is this? A high school dance?”

“Winter formal.”

“And you’re all going together?”

Tom answers that quickly enough. “We’re going together,” he says in a tone that clearly indicates he thinks nothing of Beca’s presence there.

“We’re all going together,” Chloe corrects, placing a hand on Beca’s forearm. Beca warms at the touch and smiles shyly up at their server who looks delighted at her smile.

“I love your dress,” she whispers to Beca as she passes. “Red is a good colour on you.”

Chloe practically vibrates in her seat. She giggles and pulls at Beca’s arm. “I agree.”

Beca tries not to think about how much it matters that Chloe thinks that.

“And you,” the server says, pulling Chloe’s empty plate from in front of her. “Your dress is gorgeous! It matches this one’s eyes,” she points out, nodding at Beca. She lets her words drop overtop their heads with no small measure of devastation. Beca can already sense the stony silence from Tom.

Beca quickly looks away from Chloe and Tom, not wanting to see whatever flickers across both their faces. She hadn’t noticed, but Chloe’s dress is a peculiar shade of blue.

“Huh, I didn’t notice,” Chloe murmurs.

Tom replies, probably something incredibly boring, but Beca can’t hear him over the sudden rush through her ears.

She files it away, deciding not to mull over it.

* * * * *

Beca hovers on the outskirts of the crowds, opting to linger instead by the bleachers and the punch. She smiles hesitantly at the teachers that walk by, but other than that, she fiddles uselessly with her handbag.

She can just see Chloe and Tom every now and then, flicking in and out of sight as they move between people. There is an ease to which Chloe socializes—the way she can so easily meld with people; the way she can so easily bond. And Tom, of course, is her perfect counterpart.

Future prom queen and king. That’s the title looming over their heads and everybody knows it. Especially them.

Beca tamps down the jealousy that rises in her at the thought. Yet another label to which Chloe is probably excited to subscribe, but yet another label which Beca can’t really help her with. She imagines briefly what it would be like to dance with Chloe like that—to hold her in her arms and slowdance with her as the music around them fades to nothing. Beca imagines it would be akin to feeling like they were the only two people on the dance floor.

Unfortunately, the only two people on the dance floor she has any real interest in are slow dancing as of now. Beca swallows back some lemonade, wondering if she should have eaten more at the diner because her stomach churns uncomfortably. She can just see their profiles through the crowd.

Tom leans in for a kiss.

Beca wants to look away—she should, in fact, look away—but she just cannot bring herself to do it. It feels like a painstakingly long moment in which Beca realizes how far out of her depth she is. She never had a chance with Chloe, not when Chloe has her perfect Prince Charming ready to swoop her off her feet.

It suddenly feels like Beca is intruding on an intimate moment and she quickly makes her way to a new spot, not feeling much like dancing.

She shouldn’t have come.

* * * * *

“Bec, come dance with us!”

That sounds exactly like something Beca decidedly does not want to do, but she follows Chloe through throngs of people. The song is fun, top 40 and exactly what Chloe loves. Beca bops along, laughing when Chloe attempts to pull some crazier dance moves. They’re not bad, which is impressive on its own.

God, Beca loves her. Beca loves Chloe and her expressive eyes and her wild hair and all the amazing, wonderful things that make her who she is.

She loves her.

The thought makes Beca freeze, almost. She would lock out completely if Chloe didn’t choose that moment to grab her wrists and pull her in closer for a friendlier dance.

“Come on!” Chloe says again. “Dance, Bec.”

Beca attempts to move her suddenly sluggish feet, but she can only stare in Chloe as if she is moving in slow motion. The lights dance across Chloe’s face, painting her in technicolor.

“Wow,” Beca says before she can help herself.

Chloe slows a little, not completely stopping, and steps closer. “What was that?”

Beca swallows, catching a whiff of Chloe’s perfume. It feels like every sense is exceptionally loaded and stimulated. “I, uh, nothing. I’m—”

Chloe slows. “Beca?” she asks, concerned.

Beca takes a step back, wondering if this was too much, too soon.

Tom suddenly steps into Beca’s view—how hadn’t she noticed him before?—and puts an arm around Chloe’s waist, pressing against her comfortably. His broad shoulders dwarf Chloe’s; he makes Beca feel so small.

“Let her go,” he says simply, in a neutral tone. Nothing too crazy. Just three simple words.

It’s his eyes that catch Beca off guard. Accusatory, almost.

He knows.

Beca inhales sharply, nodding and spinning on her heel to exit the circle of people on the dance floor. She needs water. She needs air.

She needs to get out.

She barely makes it out of the circle when Chloe catches up to her, pushing them both to the outskirts.

“Beca, wait, what happened? Are you okay?” Chloe somehow makes her voice sound soft, even though she has to raise it to be heard over the music.

Beca swallows, glancing over Chloe’s shoulder. She doesn’t see that Tom has followed Chloe in any way. “Nothing. It’s nothing. I got...claustrophobic.”

“You’re not claustrophobic.”

Beca yanks her hands out of Chloe’s grasp. “How would you know that?” she snaps.

It is a horrible reaction that Beca tries to stop, but it slips out of her regardless. Her pent up anger and frustration, mostly with herself, finally unleashing themselves. This time on Chloe.

“You’ve been so different lately,” Chloe whispers.

This time, she does whisper. A small, broken whisper that Beca hears like a freight train rushing past her. It hurts her to hear Chloe’s voice like that.

“I’m sorry,” Beca says, desperate. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

Chloe tries to smile comfortingly. “It’s okay, I just want to help you.”

“I know.”

She does know. Chloe has only ever supported her and cared for her and loved her. From the moment they met at five years old. Chloe has been Beca’s rock.

“Come back and dance,” Chloe pleads. “Please.”

“I...maybe later,” Beca says half-heartedly. “I’ll come later.”

Chloe knows she’s lying. That’s the worst part. The betrayal in Chloe’s eyes almost does Beca in completely. She’s been a complete idiot over the past few weeks, keeping Chloe at a distance. But it’s the...the magnitude of her feelings for Chloe. Chloe, her best friend, who has no idea that Beca has this growing, stupid crush on her.

Chloe, who has no idea that Beca thinks she may be falling in love with her and she has no idea how to stop it.

She doesn’t know if she wants to stop it.

Chloe...who is dating Tom.

Chloe, who deserves to be happy without Beca, even if that means Beca hurting both of them for the time being so Chloe can have space to be happy.

And Beca can have space to move on.

She takes a step back.

“Come dance,” Chloe repeats. “Please, it’s fun. I promise.” She doesn’t sound so desperate anymore. Just defeated.

“Later,” Beca lies again. She hates school dances, she has decided. She never even wanted to come, but Chloe insisted.

Chloe stares at her for a long moment.

Tell me to stay, Beca thinks.

Chloe’s mouth opens, her eyes alight with something new.

Beca’s heart leaps. Maybe—

Tom appears, materializing from the crowd. He wraps a hand around Chloe’s forearm, grabbing her attention. Beca thinks he says “Let’s go dance, Chloe.”

She’s not sure, because she’s already turning away.

As she looks around at the crowd around her, she tries to pick out a familiar face. A friendly face. She sees Stacie and Aubrey and Flo. Maybe some other girls on her track squad. But they all have each other. She could join them. Perhaps.

But seeing all these people—her classmates and peers—she feels more alone than ever. She would have stayed for Chloe. She should stay for Chloe.

She glances over her shoulder.

Chloe is gone.

* * * * *

Beca waits outside the gymnasium for her mother. It does not take too long. Beca braces herself for the onslaught as the car slides to a stop in front of her.

“What happened to Max driving you home? Going home with Chloe?” Diane demands the moment Beca slides into the car.

Beca tosses her bag to the floor of the car, wishing her mom would just start the car already. “It’s not...happening,” is all she can offer in explanation. Her heart pounds in her chest, painfully reliving the sight of Chloe and Tom kissing while sharing an intimate dance.

“Why not?” her mother asks, sounding rather upset. “Beca, you know I have work tomorrow. I have to be in the office early because of a big client.”

“I know,” Beca whispers. She feels bad now. She disrupted her mother’s schedule. Again. Simply because she couldn’t keep her own emotions under control. “I—”

“I was already in bed, Beca. I can’t always be ferrying you around when you know how busy I’ve been lately.”

But you’re here now, Beca wants to say. That means something, right?

Her inquiry echoes around in her head. Weak from disuse. Faded from overthinking.

“I’m sorry,” Beca murmurs finally, unable to make her voice louder than a whisper. She wants to cry, desperately, but she clenches her fists to stop herself. “I didn’t…” her voice wavers and she chooses instead to look out the passenger window so her mother cannot see her inevitable tears.

She can’t even stop herself from crying anymore.

She can’t do anything.

Her mother says nothing for several long moments as they drive the short path home.

A small, hopeful part of Beca—smaller and smaller each day—wonders if today will be the day her mother comforts her. Offers her a hug. Kisses her cheek or hand.

Tells her it’s going to be okay.

Beca waits.

She waits as they turn the familiar corner onto their street.

She waits as they pass Chloe’s house.

She waits as they turn onto their driveway.

Nothing.

In a daze, Beca walks up the stairs to her bedroom, ignoring the sound of her mother’s voice. She kicks off her heels and peels the awful red dress off her body. Her phone chimes from her bag and reluctantly she goes to it.

Chloe did you leave? where did you go??

Beca at home Dont worry my mom picked me up

Chloe Bec what??? My brother was going to drive us both home Beca are you okay? :(

Beca is already crying before Chloe sends her last message. She glares at it through blurry eyes and angrily tosses the phone away before crawling into bed. The vision of Chloe’s message still stares up at her in an accusatory manner.

Chloe I just wanted you to know that i thought you looked so pretty tonight and i wish we got to dance together. goodnight

Beca already hates the new year.

fin.

now i see daylight.

#bechloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale #pitch perfect #fanfiction #now i see daylight #my fanfic #mine #text

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loviswriting · 5 years

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Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure: Bizarre Beach! Torn Between Scylla and Charybdis!

JJBA part 4 fan fic. Chapter 1: Morioh Mermaid, the perfect thesis for Jotaro?!

Summary: During his stay in Morioh, Jotaro needs to come up with a subject for his doctoral thesis in marine biology! Strange happenings in the waters of Morioh beach piques Jotaros interest, making him investigate strange sightings of a mermaid, followed by injured surfers! In hopes of finding a subject for his thesis he teams up with Kishibe Rohan and Joseph Joestar to solve the mysterious happenings! Is it the work of an actual mermaid or is there a Stand user lurking around the corner?!

Number of chapters: 9

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Total word count for all chapters: 12 749.

Chapter 1 word count: 1659

Authors note: this is my first fan fic, I tried my best and hope you will enjoy it! You may also read it on my Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20937995/chapters/49778429

The summer of ’99. A hot summer in the small town of Morioh. A good place to spend the day was at Morioh beach; a flawless tourist spot with hot sand, soothing waves, laughter and ice cream for anyone in need of a cool refresher. However, it seemed that flawlessness was coming to an end lately, with reportings of bizarre accidents involving swimmers and surfers...

One of the beaches’ common visitors were Jotaro Kujo. Not primarily for the ice cream and water, but rather for reading the newspaper and secretly meeting up with agents from the Speedwagon Foundation. Jotaro had just had one of these undercover meetings with an agent sitting on the other side of the bench giving information about the serial killer Kira Yoshikage. However, the trail was currently very cold and Jotaro had not been given any useful information. But Jotaro was confident he would track down Kira with the help of his Morioh friends; Josuke, Koichi, Okuyasu and Rohan and in the worst case even his gramps Joseph. He had faced off with many strong adversaries before, although it was many years since he had defeated the strongest one of them all; Dio. But Kira was not the only adversary Jotaro currently was facing. No, there was another one, even more powerful than he had imagined: finding a subject for his doctoral thesis in marine biology! Despite being in Morioh, a wonderful seaside town, he was at a total block on what to write about, and he had only a few months left before the next semester started and he was to present the first draft of his thesis. Although being a delinquent in high school, Jotaro now was an A-grade student and aced all his tests and assignments. He had grown a lot of pride in his studies and he wanted to give it his best. He wouldn’t settle for just any subject to write about – he wanted to find the best subject to write about, something to bring out his true potential as a soon-to-be marine biologist. So he spent as much time as he could near the harbour or the beach, in hopes of finding inspiration.

Inspiration, however, would not come easily. As a way to pass time, Jotaro read through the daily newspaper to keep up with happenings in Morioh. A headline in the paper caught his eyes; “Third accident this week in Moriohs waters”. Recently, Jotaro had not had much time to spend at the beach or harbour and felt he had to catch up on recent events and started reading: “Following the two latest incidents in the waters around Morioh beach, a third has happened. Unlike the previous two swimmers, who are currently in a bad condition at the hospital and unconscious, this surfer managed to overcome what seems like an unlikely happening! Kenji O'Hara, 32, claims to have seen a mermaid in one of the waves during surfing. He went around for another pass with the waves, to try and spot the so-called mermaid again, only to slightly spot her and then crash into some sudden violent waves. Although startled, he was able to quickly get back to the beach with his surfing board, getting away with a few bruises and cuts on his legs. “Man, that was totally bizarre, but I swear I saw a mermaid in the waves, the second time it felt like she reached for me! Maybe she wanted to make me her merman!” states clearly delirious O'Hara.”

Mermaids are not a real thing, Jotaro was sure of that, but it was indeed bizarre and his gut feeling told him there might be more to this than what was on the surface. Perhaps something lurked deep down in these accidents. He decided to dig, or rather dive, a little bit further into this. Jotaro took out his cell phone and dialled a number. “Hey. This is Jotaro. I need a favour… meet me at the hospital in an hour,” Jotaro hung up and rose from the bench he sat on. There were potentially two more witnesses to this so-called mermaid and Jotaro could not wait to get more information.

For starters, his sense of justice told him something was wrong and had to be righted. And besides that, although his big doubts, if there truly is a mermaid at Morioh beach… then he had the perfect subject for his thesis.

Exactly one hour later, Jotaro stood in front of Morioh hospital, he was wearing one of his favourite outfits: a pink long-sleeved shirt under his white coat, which today was ornated with gold coloured decorations of two kissing dolphins shaping a heart and a pointy triangle with the letter J. His white hat also had gold coloured ornaments, of a single dolphin and a sun. Jotaro rarely wore those as he treasured them a lot, being gifts from his seven-year-old daughter Jolyne who made them in art class. He was, of course, also wearing white pants. What would this visit at the hospital give him? Would it shed some light on this mermaid sighting? Soon enough, he would know. Jotaro pondered this, standing in the shadow of the entrance roof, enjoying a slight breeze, for about fifteen minutes until his nephew Josuke showed up, wearing his usual dark blue school uniform. Jotaro often wondered if Josuke even owned anything else than that, he always wore it, even on weekends, and Jotaro felt it made him look like some sort of cartoon character. At least he himself modified his stylish white outfit with different coloured shirts and various ornament; that was how adult life just was, succumbing to the importance of looking good and keeping up with the latest fashion trends. “Ooii Jotaro-san!” Josuke shouted as he walked up to him waving his hand, “What's up? A lead on the Kira case?” he asked curiously with a bit of seriousity glowing in his eyes. Jotaro shook his head, “Unfortunately, this is unrelated. There have been accidents at the beach waters. I’ve decided to investigate what is causing them. Two of the victims are at the hospital, injured and unconscious” Josuke gave him another serious look, “… could this be another Stand user?” “It’s too early to make any guesses. It’s more likely dangerous wildlife. Remember, Stand users are drawn to other Stand users, which I doubt these victims are. Besides that, if they are not Stand users, then they should not be able to see a Stand, but this Kenji-guy claim to have seen a mermaid...” Jotaro shrugged off the possibility and went into the hospital doors, entering the calm and sterile white room, only a few people sitting there, some talked with a police officer, perhaps family to one of the victims of the recent happenings at the beach?

After a quick request at the reception, they got the room numbers for the injured swimmers. They went upstairs to the first room, where Josuke healed the first injured surfer with his Crazy Diamonds ability. However, the swimmer had not seen any mermaid and had suddenly blacked out in pain when swimming. Jotaro got no information at all and felt quite disappointed, the duo then went for the next room, further away in the corridor. “Seriously Jotaro-san, a mermaid? Those do not exist. This Kenji-guy must have hit his head too hard against the waves or something,” Josuke said jestingly, gesturing with his arms. Jotaro did not answer, just silently walking onward. Shortly they arrived at the next room, where an unconscious woman lied in a bed. “Let’s heal her and wake her up, Josuke”, Jotaro said as he approached the woman and nodded towards her. “Yeah. Crazy Diamond!” Josuke called out, summoning his pink and light blue stand, proceeding to heal the woman with a soft touch and then wake her up. Jotaro briefly explained that they were investigating the accidents at the beach, and asked the woman about what happened to her out at sea. “I was out swimming and making light dives into the water when suddenly I saw a beautiful woman swimming a few meters away from me under the water! She was truly stunning, aah…” the woman said, clearly mesmerized about the thought of the woman she saw. “What happened then? Did you notice anything strange?” Jotaro pursued. “Well, she was so beautiful, I almost thought she was a mermaid! I never saw anyone else besides me up at the water’s surface, I only saw her under the water… that was kind of strange, now that I think about it. Haha sorry, my mind is still a bit cloggy after just waking up!” she laughed and scratched her head. Another witness! Jotaro thought and tried to pry deeper, “Do you remember anything else?” The woman silently thought for a bit, “No, when I tried approaching her, she disappeared, and then I felt a hard hit in my back and lost consciousness…” “Okay, thank you for your time,” Jotaro said and started to make his way out. “No, thank you, kind doctors, for making me better so fast!” she replied happily and waved her hand. Josuke waved back at her on the way out and walked up to Jotaro, “Huh, mermaids?? Again? What’s this all about!” “I do not know, that’s what I’m trying to find out, but something is strange about this,” Jotaro said as they walked down the stairs to the main floor, “I’m heading back to the hotel. Thanks for the help, I owe you one. Later.” The nephews parted ways and Jotaro called a cab to get to the hotel. A mermaid? Could that really be it? But what caused the accidents to happen? Even if there was a mermaid, that did not solve the mystery behind people getting injured. There were no sharp rocks in the area around Morioh beach, so the cause had to be something else. Jotaro was determined to find out what.

CHAPTER 1, END.

Thanks for reading!

#jojos bizarre adventure #jjba #jotaro #josuke #fan fic #jjba fan fic #writing #writblr #diamond is unbreakable #jjba part 4 #jjba diu

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ask-ace-attorney-mpreg · 5 years

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Tuesday, 16 May 2038

Nervously Nahyuta handed in his form and took his husbands hand. Softly Simon smiled at him and wordlessly pulled him into the direction of their nurse.

A joined birth. The facility had adapted well over time and also was giving them the possibility for such unique experience. Professionally they were led into a white room, prepared with two blue loading t-shirts and a pill for each.

The nurse smiled at Simon and then turned to Nahyuta: “Your Gracefulness has already witnessed the process of the loading, I was told?”

Nahyuta swallowed and looked to Simon, who merely smirked at the title and sat down on the table.

“I did”, Nahyuta confessed yet asked nevertheless, “but as this is my first time experiencing it myself, I would like to go through the procedure with you one time. It’s been almost four years after all.”

The nodded and motioned to the t-shirt: “This is your loading shirt. Just change into it and then take the pill when you are ready. The child will load, and you’ll see the progress on the loading bar. When both of you have reached 100%, I will come to fetch you. Is this a satisfactory answer, Your Gracefulness?”

Nahyuta nodded and they left the room. He turned to Simon, who observed him closely.

“You don’t have to do this. I’m happy enough to carry twins once more”, Simon offered and pulled him towards himself.

Two months after the triplets they had moved to Khura’in and a month later Simon had proposed. They had married a year later and then Nahyuta had been coronated.

Their family was happy as ever. Metis loved her new royal father and was excited to live in Khura’in, just as much as the twins who still got to see their biological father quite often due to his frequent visits to Khura’in. And their triplet girls were blooming in their roles as princesses.

And so was Simon in his position as consort to the king. He was excused from many political meetings but for official ceremonies and state receptions he always backed up his husband and was liked by the public. His calm and humble demeanour behind their king impressed them and they also appreciated his skills as prosecutor.

He had even been offered the position of the chief prosecutor, which he politely denied. He was not in court to lead his colleagues; he was there to prosecute criminals.

“No!” Nahyuta insisted and pulled himself out of the embrace. “We both decided that we wanted more children and I can’t have you going through a multiples birth again. Your heading to your forties and -”

He cleared his throat and flustered. Simon started to laugh and pulled up his shirt. For a man in his late thirties, who had also carried out six children in three pregnancies he looked still astoundingly fit, Nahyuta remarked and thought about the small love handles on his hips.

He let out a sigh and took the shirt in his hands. He wanted to share this with Simon. And he also wanted to feel what he had felt while carrying their lovely children. He wanted to understand this completely unconditional love in his eyes when he looked at them and he wanted to feel that too. Even if it was scary.

Finally, he followed the nurse’s orders and took off his shirt while Simon had already pulled his over his head. With a smirk in his face the black-haired man winked at him and leaned on the table. The pill laid in his fist and Nahyuta still hesitated to grab his.

“I will take mine now, okay?” Simon asked patiently.

With that Nahyuta grabbed his and walked up in front of him. Scared but still certain he hinted a nod and kissed his man.

Simon laughed in his lips and bowed his head until their forehead touched.

“You will fare well. I know it. You’re strong and kind. Not many men would treat Metis, Katsu and Jun like their own, especially when you have three sweet little princesses that actually share the same blood. I’m proud to call you my partner and if you don’t want this, I will not fault you for it. I never could.”

Nahyuta smiled and moved away. Cautiously he crossed the room and sat down on a chair. He nodded in Simon’s direction and gave him his consent to start.

Simon tilted his head and swallowed his pill. He moaned in relaxation grinned at his stomach. This was his last time and he wanted to enjoy it.

Quietly he walked over to his husband and laid one hand on his shoulder while the other was placed on his expanding belly. Nahyuta looked down to the slight curve in his husband’s middle and felt determination arise in his heart. He wanted this as well.

With a quick move threw in the pill and was shaken by a flash of pain and embrace of warm and unreserved wave of love. Tears shot in his eyes and he leaned forward while cradling his stomach.

Simon’s hand stroked his back and he slowly got back in an uptight position and then watched in wonder how much his abdomen had already grown.

23%, 34%, 39%

12%, 22%, 26%

Nahyuta compared the numbers and was shocked to see that he was already as big as Simon despite having the lower percentage. But soon his thoughts were taken off again, as a new pain crawled through his limps and now, he actually started sobbing.

45%, 56%, 63%

38%, 51%, 67%

Simon moaned and stroked his stomach in delight. It felt so familiar yet new and he could not but be happy for the growing foetus in his belly. He glanced over to Nahyuta, saw the tears in his eyes and a sudden softness in his features. He looked down to his own growing dome and suddenly he seemed to overcome the pain and embrace a warm and cosy feeling.

Simon smiled. Nahyuta had found his excitement for the child he was carrying. Carefully he crouched down next to Nahyuta in the chair and waited for Nahyuta to look at him. It took him a moment but when he saw Simon’s awaiting look, he just smiled, took his hand and laid it on his belly.

Simon grinned and petted him. Nahyuta cherished the sensation and cupped Simon’s cheek to kiss him. His prosecutor had no objections to offer and laughed against his lips as he felt his little one wiggle in his belly.

78%, 86%, 91%

80%, 94%, 96%

“Holy Mother!” Nahyuta yelped and panted at an especially hard wave of pain, before Simon gave him a last peck and both felt their little ones finally reaching 100%

96%, 98%, 99% - Ding!

97%, 98%, 99% - Ding!

Nahyuta huffed in relief and Simon got up, slowly pulling of his shirt, while happily staring at his big belly and then winking at his husband. Nahyuta let out a chuckle and carefully got up admiring his baby bump that visibly was bigger as his husbands. A big baby then.

Two nurses entered and helped them to completely change. As they had finished the took each other’s arm and were led to the delivery wing. They had expanded since the last time and they were brought into one of the new parts for the joined births.

The ward they got was rather similar to the ones Simon had been in in the past, just bigger and with two tubs. Their nurses gave them their bracelets and left at once. Immediately, their contractions set in and Nahyuta let out a loud cry at the first.

Simon bit his lips and sat down on the bed, suffering through the first wave off pain. For some minutes then he watched his husband walking around, before the next contraction came.

“I need to get into the tub”, Nahyuta told Simon and the man immediately got up to help him into the tube.

As they had eased Nahyuta into the water, Simon got himself a chair and sat down next to bathtub. He held out his hand for the king and Nahyuta gladly took it as he silently grunted through the pain.

Not much was spoken during the next hours. They only exchanged some short encouragements to one another and Simon once kissed Nahyuta between the contractions and told him how proud he was of him.

“I can’t believe you went through this three times already”, Nahyuta mumbled and stroked his belly heavily panting.

Simon grinned but didn’t answer as a new contraction hit. With his teeth gritted together he replied after that: “Believe me I did and I’d do it again immediately. I love them so much and they are everything to me.”

Nahyuta weakly smiled. He knew that he must look like a mess with his braid wet and partially undone, sweaty forehead and ugly grunting. And yet when he looked at Simon, just as much of a mess as he was, he felt loved and happy to be here. Happy to carry Simon’s baby.

“They’re everything to me too”, he whispered and kissed Simon’s hand.

Tears rolled down from Simon’s eyes and he got up. He felt that his child would soon enter the birth canal and went to the bed. He had been right. His child entered and he gruntingly spread out his legs and pushed. It barely moved and Simon panted in exhaustion and had to takes several breaks before he could continue.

He tried to remain as calm as possible to not unsettle Nahyuta, who repeatedly checked in with him and told him he was doing great. Simon appreciated it to no end, knowing fully well how scared his husband was himself and carried on some more. Still, he was glad that this would be his last one, as he felt that his body really could not take this much longer. Even he had to admit that time had gotten to him.

Meanwhile Nahyuta fought through the contractions through his own. The pain was harsh and he had wished that he hadn’t underestimated the contraction pain as suddenly a different sort of pain hit him and he realized that his labour had started. His baby had entered the birth canal.

He pushed and after the pain run through him, he whimpered and mumbled incoherently in khura’inese.

“I-It’s okay… Yuta… you’ll make it”, Simon cheered on him from the bed.

Nahyuta shook his head but cried: “I will! And you will too!”

Simon grunted in agreement and pushed down his child. Minutes passed and Simon finally felt how his child soon would reach the end. One push more and their head crowned. A last one and they were out. Tiredly he grabbed them, held them to his chest and panted. Carefully he sat up and looked at them. A girl. Brown skin and fair lilac hair. She opened her eyes and blinked at him. They were bright green.

He laughed and cried and held her close. With a little coo he forced himself to get up and carefully walked over to the tub. Slowly he sat down on the tub’s edge and watched his husband in utter peace.

He was struggling to push again but as he blinked up to Simon, seeing the little princess in his arms and the pride filled look in Simon’s eyes he pulled through and with a last cry he pushed his child out.

Carefully Simon helped him sit up after he had fetched his child and looked at them in wonder. Heavily breathing he observed them, the messy black hair, the rather fair skin and the deep brown eyes.

He sobbed and looked up to teary eyed Simon who chuckled at him.

“I had a boy. We have a son”, Nahyuta whined joyful and held him close to his chest as he soon started to drink.

Simon nodded and softly petted his baby boy’s head and then showed Nahyuta their daughter. The king cried at her beauty and didn’t see how Simon breast-fed her after that.

Soon the nurses came and helped the king and his consort collect themselves. Only after several hours they had finally got down from their after-birth high and finally gave their children their names.

Keiko for their girl. Shankar for their boy.

Their perfect final addition for their family.

Fin.

#mpreg #ace attorney #ace attorney mpreg #nahyuta sahdmadhi #simon blackquill #what a perfect ending #birth #genesis maternity facility #submission

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junker-town · 5 years

Text

5 young NFL players who deserve a much higher ‘Madden’ rating

EA’s Madden NFL 20

Which player ratings did EA get the most wrong this year?

The NFL preseason is almost here, which means it’s Madden season. The annual release of the league’s omnipresent video game consort is a welcome respite for gridiron fanatics sick of parsing through training camp reports.

The game is more than just an exercise in theoretical football, however. It’s also a treatise on which athletes belong in the league’s elite.

Electronic Arts released its annual player ratings in advance of Madden NFL 20’s release, creating a tidal wave of free publicity as fans and pundits alike debated their rubric. Four stars — Aaron Donald, Khalil Mack, Bobby Wagner, and DeAndre Hopkins — earned coveted 99 overall ratings that maxed out their impact on the field. Others slipped and climbed through the ranks like a poorly staged game of Snakes and Ladders.

Reigning MVP Patrick Mahomes saw his rating rise to a 97, but that still left him struggling to crack EA’s top 10. Richard Sherman is 31 and is coming off his first season without an interception after a good, not great, year in San Francisco. Despite that, his Madden number increased from 90 to 93. Aaron Rodgers suffered through a similarly low-key season on a non-playoff team but slipped from a 99 rating a year ago to a 90, making him the game’s seventh-best quarterback.

But the players who got the worst of it were those who have only been in the NFL for, at most, a few seasons. Ahead of Madden 20’s Aug. 2 release, we picked five young players who deserve more credit — and a higher rating — this year.

Mitchell Trubisky probably deserves more respect

There are plenty of questionable ratings among EA’s cadre of quarterbacks this summer. Mahomes had one of the greatest seasons the league’s ever seen, yet didn’t get included among the league’s tippy-top tier. Jared Goff played at an MVP level through much of the 2018 season and is entering just his fourth season in the league, but his player rating stood pat at an 83.

Meanwhile, the Giants had to deal with even more roasting of their top pick from the 2019 NFL Draft.

oh no Giants pic.twitter.com/zbyn1RsGkv

— Christian D'Andrea (@TrainIsland) July 15, 2019

But somewhere in the midst of all this confusion was Bears quarterback Mitchell Trubisky. The second overall pick of the 2017 draft made major strides last season, posting gains in nearly every statistical category and emerging as a valuable dual-threat presence. More importantly, he led Chicago to an NFC North title and an 11-3 record in the games he started.

Despite all this, he’s only rated a 75 — one point higher than his 2018 standard and tied for 26th among quarterbacks. For comparison’s sake, let’s take a look to how he stacks up against 79-rated Marcus Mariota, excluding the growing pains of each’s rookie season:

Madden is telling us it has no faith in Trubisky’s 2018 leap. That could hold up — but he certainly didn’t look like a bottom-tier starting quarterback when he helped lead the Bears to the top of their division. — Christian D’Andrea

It’s time to give Kevin Byard his due

The Tennessee Titans are an easy team to forget about, and that’s meant anonymity for players on their roster. The best example is 2016 third-round pick Kevin Byard, one of the best safeties in the NFL.

Hall of Fame cornerback Deion Sanders didn’t even know who Byard was last year, calling him “a fan” on Twitter.

You're looking at who writers tell u who's the best I know who players and former players feel is the best. I rest my case. You continue to be a fan and i will continue being the man. #Truth https://t.co/gnpwJHjxEK

— Deion Sanders (@DeionSanders) March 20, 2018

If Byard’s not the best safety in the league, he’s certainly close. He had the fourth-highest grade on Pro Football Focus among starters at the position in 2018, and he’s the NFL leader in interceptions over the past two seasons.

But he couldn’t even get a rating in the 90s on Madden 20.

Earl Thomas (95), Harrison Smith (94), Malcolm Jenkins (92), Eddie Jackson (91), and Jamal Adams (90) are all ahead of Byard, who came in at 89. He had the same 89 rating in Madden 19, immediately after his All-Pro season.

Byard is a top-five safety even if his Madden grade doesn’t reflect that. — Adam Stites

A healthy Kwon Alexander should lead to a nice bump

Kwon Alexander is a dominant linebacker. The problem is that he has a bit of an injury history and only played in six games last season. It’s easy to see why he’d be rated low in Madden as a result, but I feel like his rating is too low.

Alexander is one of the most athletic linebackers in the game, and when healthy, he’s all over the field making big tackles. Tackling machines are the guys who often get overlooked because they’re not putting up “sexy” stats like touchdowns, sacks, or interceptions.

Despite his injuries, Alexander has still produced. In 46 career games, the 24-year-old has 380 tackles, seven sacks, six forced fumbles, six interceptions and a touchdown, in addition to 22 passes defensed.

In this year’s Madden, he’s rated a 78, which isn’t terrible, but he has the stats to back up a higher rating. He should be up into the 80s for sure. I’d like to see him get a boost to speed, awareness, and his pursuit traits. — James Brady

Honestly, just make Derwin James 99 at this point

Derwin James is already a superstar. He’s already a top safety in the NFL. It’s honestly stupid how good he is, and every team that didn’t draft him has to be furious. There are almost no flaws in his game. He’s all over the field.

After one season in the league, he entered the NFL Top 100 at No. 31, a huge honor.

"Smart, fast and physical." @DerwinJames made offenses PAY his rookie year (via @NFLFilms + @NFLNetwork) #NFLTop100 pic.twitter.com/kNvLZhYz0J

— NFL (@NFL) July 30, 2019

James finished his rookie season with 105 tackles, 3.5 sacks, three interceptions, 13 passes defensed, and the respect of everybody he came into contact with. He’s worth every bit of the 17th overall pick the Chargers spent on him, and EA should stop with this “86 overall” nonsense. Make him 90 at least, or just skip the preamble and bump him all the way to 99, OK? — James Brady

James Conner isn’t as average as Madden says he is

The Steelers were supposed to be screwed when Le’Veon Bell held out for the entire 2018 season. Instead, the offense didn’t miss a beat.

In Conner’s first full season as Pittsburgh’s starting running back, he had 13 total touchdowns, 973 rushing yards, and 497 receiving yards. His 4.5 yards per carry topped the 4.0 yards Bell averaged during his All-Pro 2017 season.

So the argument could be made that Conner deserves a higher rating than Bell. He didn’t even come close, though.

Bell, who sat out 2018, is at 92 overall, behind only Todd Gurley and Ezekiel Elliott. Buried under 21 running backs is Conner at 83 overall.

HUH???

Dion Lewis, who averaged 3.3 yards per carry in his first season with the Titans, is ahead of Conner. So are Dalvin Cook, Lamar Miller, and Sony Michel.

There was a reason Conner was the starting running back for the AFC in the Pro Bowl. Why does Madden seem to think he’s not even top 20 at his position? — Adam Stites

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obscuraxrp · 7 years

Photo

The smoke settles to reveal HAN SOOAH, also known as HANAH, a 28 year old were-rabbit of Sunseong. She is an herbalist who appears to be adept with healing magic and enhanced senses --- but like most things in Sunseong, there must be more to her than meets the eye.

FACECLAIM: Kim Taeyeon, snsd

APPEARANCE:

She only uses her rabbit form in two ways: as a way for her to get to her destination as fast as possible or to sneak somewhere to obtain herbs. A small brown bag is often seen hanging around her neck to carry her required medicine. Although she is stealthy, she forgets about it when she answers an emergency call.

BIOGRAPHY:

Tragedy /ˈtradʒɪdi/ adjective: March 2001

My father was helpless. No, we were all helpless. There was no knowing they would come, not in this depth of the night where sleep was almost upon us.

I never knew the tragedy that would befall a family as innocent as mine would come. My home was a place of safety and reassurance, where even the worst of the darkness could not befall us—at least that was what mother had told me.

The screams of my mother were ingrained into my memory, the agonising yell that left my father’s lips, the same mouth where praises for me have left, sounded like an unorganised orchestra played by tortured souls. I could taste the regret and fear clinging to his yell amongst the sound of bullets firing in the air. When I peeked through the door Mother beckoned me to run with only one look, so I did, as quiet and as fast as I could. The sounds of slashing still reverberated throughout the house. I could taste the iron in my mouth … (I can still taste it)

It was only after silence had fallen did I realise I was in my room’s closet, clinging to my legs as strands of the moon’s light seep in through its cracks. My vision became blurry, my cheeks heating and a strange pain stuck in my throat. Something akin to snakes wriggled in my abdomen and my feet planted to the floor, demanding me to stay and obey mother’s words. It was an unfamiliar feeling, an unwelcome condition.

Fear.

I never left that room. I never planned to. Not until the warmth of the sun greeted my skin. I was woken by the sound of footsteps and my closet door opening. Devastation rang loud in the core of my stomach, certainty of my doom overcame my whole being. My small feet and arms flailed in the air, trying its best to hit whatever thing that grabbed me. A voice eventually reached my ears and recognition rang through my head. I realised it was Uncle, his face stricken with grief that it was almost unrecognisable. He carried me in his arms, I remember it being warm. As we walked out I could see traces of flesh scattered across the dining room table. Aunt sat by my mother to urge her to come out, but sanity had left her eyes, leaving nothing but an empty shell and a scar slashing down her face into her chest. Overwhelmed, darkness consumed me once more.

Resolution / rɛzəˈluːʃ(ə)n/ noun: April 2001

I made an oath on my father’s grave, an oath of vengeance. My uncle heard me, and instead told me to promise to heal mother instead. I didn’t want to promise anything with Uncle, but then I remembered that look my mother wore every time I came to visit after the incident–t always sent an icy wave down my spine. A new oath forged in the form of words, mother will see light.

Looking back, I am grateful to Uncle. If not for him, I would be buried under the ground alongside my father by now.

Determination / dɪˌtəːmɪˈneɪʃ(ə)n/ noun: June 2001 – 2007

Uncle and Aunt took me in. They taught me everything they knew, harnessing that small spark of magic that settled within me, helping it sprout into what I am now. Before I knew it, learning plants became my life. Each day consisted of scrutinising every leaf that fell from the trees, every weed that grew within the garden, every flower that sprouted on the side of the road. I memorised everything from colour, texture, taste, names, properties, down to the soil it grew from. Along the way, I heard of a guild, one that wasn’t as ruthless as DSEM, and it piqued my interest. I joined as soon as I could and before long my life became so full.

It wasn’t long before Aunt realised she had taught me everything she knew. Without wasting much time, I left home to further my knowledge. I never did thank them, I should go back this weekend for a visit.

End /ɛnd/ noun: 2016

I will not speak of the blood shed.

Quiet /ˈkwʌɪət/ adjective: 2016 - Present

By the time I have reached my level of proficiency, I was so tired. I forfeit my badge and continued to tend the small clinic at my own home. It was a welcome change of pace I never knew I needed.

Although, this year there have been no difference compared to the day of my youth. It is teeming with fear and horror in the air and it sticks to my skin, it’s so hard to wash off at night. The thought of my mother rests in my mind, still stuck at her home, still an emotionless shell. I am slow in my progress, distraction stems from so much conflict around me. I pray this year I can further my studies for Mother. I miss hearing her voice so much.

CHARACTERIZATION:

She is a composed woman and is always seen with a gentle smile across her face. Many people see her as source of comfort amidst all the chaos, and sometimes she only need to step into the room to birth a sliver of hope among the despair.

However, when she sees or hears something related to herbology or healing magic of some kind, her composed demeanour melts and she’s seen as an excited small child eager to learn.

She wishes she can become close friends with all the supernatural creatures just so she can learn more about their biology and anatomy, though she makes it hard for herself to relate anything with anyone seeing how far behind she is with the current trends.

As a result of her focus in her studies, you can count the number of friends she has on one hand

She’s also selective when it comes to friendship. Her trust is hard to obtain or maintain but she will always be polite to those around her.

Dislikes violence and war in general – will generally stay away from any conflict when she is not needed.

Prefers to keep her hair short, she finds that it doesn’t distract her as much when she’s crouched on the floor invested in her research.

Her interest in any intimate relationship is close to zero. She believes that time will come in the far future.

Only a few of her closest friends have her emergency contact phone, those who call will hear a knocking at their door within minutes.

Despises how DSEM works as a hunter association. She secretly wants to throw it down. Plans brew in her mind from time to time as if to give her a small break from her research and studies.

SPECIALTIES:

Shape Shifting + Rabbit Speech, Innate Abilities (0 pts): Being born a were-rabbit, she has the most basic control over her shape-shifting. She can shift from her human form to her rabbit form, but that is all. Small control over her shifting is non-existent. She understands rabbit speech through her extended family who live in the forest and thus her rabbit speech is still fluent.

Enhanced Senses, Rank I (20 pts): The only senses that are enhanced when she chooses to use this are smell and hearing. She has been practicing enhancing her senses whenever she can as a way to protect herself and identifying herbs. When she uses this, she is able to identify smells she’s both familiar and unfamiliar with such as one found in plants or the sweat of predators. This way, it is more likely for her to find rare herbs as well as smelling the danger before it’s too late.

Plant Healing, Rank III (80 pts): Keeping in touch with her elements, she enhances and harnesses her skills in healing for almost her entire life. She mainly focuses on physical injuries such as bite wounds and injuries from fights or accidents. Despite her many years of study mental injuries is still something she is unable to tackle, though she can relieve it albeit in small quantity. In order to heal, she uses herbs as a medium to transfer her healing magic into them by either enhancing, adding or manipulating its properties. The extent of her healing are as follows:

She is able to heal: cuts, bruises, and burns; recovering medium blood loss; all levels of fractures; reattaching limbs – although nerves may remain damaged and normal control will never return; minor internal damage. A more severe damage can be healed, however there is no guaranteed success and often not recommended by herself.

The success rate of healing wounds decreases as the fatality of the wound increases, the base being 99% (small cuts, broken nail, minor burns) to 5% (severely damaged organs, spine injury). Failure in her magic can mean worsening the wound or, depending on the wound. even lead to death.

#obs: follow #*kim taeyeon #*snsd #*girl's generation #light gore tw #violence tw #death tw

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mad-hats · 7 years

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A Matter of Life and Death, that’s the title of this story I’ve been working on...it’s my first legit thing so don’t hate on me.

Lei and Melody Pond pressured me into posting this ASAP last ight so it’s all I could do. But hey, I gotta say it’s some cool stuff about the universal entities, Life and Death...plus some other dudes.

I dedicate this novel to my family and friends who inspired me and helped me write this story...and to readers like you! Yes...you reading this...right now.

Prologue

Tony Torelli, unlike most people Death came accross, was satisfied with his life. He had managed to stay alive for 99 years, which was far longer than any of his uncles, aunts, or his parents had.

Tony was rather impressed with himself, considering that he had immigrated to America with nothing but his wife by his side and his ambition. After starting his own bakery with the money from selling little pastries on a cart and from Mrs. Torelli doing the neighborhood's laundry, Tony had a total of five children, who each provided two grandchildren for Mr. And Mrs. Torelli.

Death recalled meeting his wife, Abrielle Torelli in 2010, she was surprisingly rather calm considering she had just died of lung cancer with no actual knowledge of how the “Passing Procedure” functioned. Although he was never entirely sure about what lied beyond each of the doors to the afterlife, Death knew that the sweet elderly Italian woman would be heading for something pleasant. So Death felt a wave of satisfaction, knowing that Mr. and Mrs. Torelli would be united as soon as Tony Torelli finally finished groaning in pain and collapsed on his kitchen floor.

As his heart stopped beating, a wisp rose from the old man’s body and formed into his ghost. Death gave a little wave from his seat at Mr. Torelli’s kitchen table. The ghost of Tony Torelli stepped back, scared and confused, Death pondered whether Torelli was more scared by his own ghostly appearance, or by the sudden appearance of a black cloaked skeleton with a scythe against his chair. Either way, he looks like he’s seen a ghost, Death silently chuckled at his own horrible joke.

“What is this, am I dead? Are you- are you the Grim Reaper?” Torelli asked worriedly. Death stood up and brushed off his cloak, “Yes and yes, but don’t worry, most of this isn’t so bad as most think” he said in a surprisingly comforting tone.

“It works like this; I ask you a few questions about your life and if you are honest and if you meet the qualifications, you can go to the afterlife of your choosing”. Torelli nodded slowly, despite the baffled expression on his face, he seemed to understand. Huh, this one’s a strong one.

“So Mr. Torelli, how did you die?”

Tony Torelli thought for a moment, “Well it seems like I have just died of a heart attack,”

Death nodded in approval.

“That’s right, not the most noble death, but the noble ones always tend to be the most painful anyway. Moving on, do you think you were a good person?”

“Well, I suppose. I’ve never been involved in anything illegal, I tried to provide the best life I could for my family. Of course I’ve sinned, but I ask our Lord and Savior for forgiveness regularly, I try not to judge others...I’m not going to hell am I?”

Death glanced into the old man’s soul. He’s just too innocent, it’s a bit disturbing really, but as always, Death could sense that Tony definitely wasn’t lying his way to a better eternity. Death raised a finger over one of the ancient symbols carved into his scythe, it glowed white. Yep, he’s a good one.

“No Mr. Torelli, you’re a decent man, even though I’m only a gatekeeper, I’m sure that you’ll be joining your wife today”. Death swung his scythe in the air and planted it firmly on the floor, a stream mixed of shadows and light bled from the end of the scythe, the stream gathered together and created a sudden archway. Even over millions of years, Death couldn’t quite find a way to describe it, it was the most beautiful and most threatening thing Death had ever seen; an array of conflicting shadow and light, he supposed, much like that of the stream. Tony Torelli drifted towards the portal and disappeared. One down, another several hundred to go. Before he could teleport to his next destination, Death froze to a stop. Something changed, Death could feel it within the scythe, he could feel it in the air. He took a deep breath and smoothed out his cloak, regretting that he had chosen his skeleton form. Why today? “Hello old friend, it’s been awhile since we’ve spoken,” Death turned around to face Life. Of course, she was as obnoxiously radiant looking as usual. “It’s been a week, and a rather peaceful week too,” Death chided.

“Why did you have to reap Tony? A few more months and he would have been a hundred years old. One. Hundred. I don’t get to do that very often and it’s really annoying when you just come along and reap them at the last minute”.

Death sighed, “Life darling, he died of a heart attack, everyone has to die eventually, and I help make the transition easier. You don’t create children, you just open their lives to the world. Are you okay Life? Something seems to be troubling you.”

Life sighed and bit her lip. “Well, I came here to talk about far more than a possible hundred year old man...Death, we have a problem. You know our friend Noir? She’s gone missing”. Death laughed, “Well I doubt that, she’s a reaper; she’s most likely just off doing paperwork for some particularly complicated death, our jobs aren’t easy you know”. Life’s expression darkened, switching her aura of serenity to something far more sinister in a matter of seconds.

“That isn’t the case Death, you sense people dying, I sense people living; Noir is alive, but she’s oddly distant, there’s something going on that may affect more than just one of your Reapers”

“Distant, you say? Life, you know that Noir is more than just one of my helpers, she- she’s a close friend. If you truly think there is something going on, I’ll need your help investigating it”. Life nodded, and pursed her lips, “well, there’s something else too, you know how the most accurate way to connect to reapers is through blood or DNA, well since we don’t have Noir’s blood sample on hand, I’ve recently discovered, um, another possibility”.

Death twirled his scythe in anticipation, “Yes?”

“She apparently had a child with a mortal named James Mourn about twelve years ago, especially considering that the girl has inherited Noir’s abilities, she’s our best and only hope.”

Death fell silent, “she never told me that she had a kid, she never told me- never told me any of it...of course you’re right though, I’ll find the girl, you keep gathering more information,” he said quietly. Life nodded, deciding it was best to leave her friend to his thoughts as she turned to leave, “her name’s Lucy. The girl, her name is Lucy Mourn”.

Chapter One

“What if I had a death that was so tragic that my favorite bands would feel the need to come play at it? I mean that would be so cool, maybe Panic at the Disco could play “Far Too Young to Die” or something, I’ll add it to the list of stuff on my will,” Lucy Mourn cheerfully wondered out loud as her math class drew to a close. The new student sitting next to Lucy glared at her, “You’re so weird, why do you have a will already? We’re only in 7th grade, isn’t it a bit creepy?”. Lucy tilted her head and smiled as her pale green eyes widened, as if this was a questioned that she loved answering. “Why, it’s never too early to write a will, we could die any day now, at any moment at all. I don’t see why I shouldn’t be just a tad bit prepared,” she chirped. The kid next to her gradually scooted away, unnerved by Lucy’s nonchalance on the subject.

“Okay class I know that it’s winter break but that doesn’t mean you can’t study your geometry, we have a test a week after you return from break!” Mrs. Harrison desperately called out as the students gathered their backpacks and headed out the door. The new kid who had been talking to Lucy rushed away from her before the bell had even finished ringing. Lucy’s shoulders slumped as she put on her black cat-ear beanie with the little pins on them; one normal smiley face, one with x’s for eyes, and finally a little skull pin, along with a few from various bands. Another failed attempt at friendship but that’s okay, I’m just too brilliant to share my friendship with anyone.

She swung her black and pastel pink backpack over her shoulder and skipped out into the preteen-packed hallway. Lucy weaved past the packs of students scattered about the hall and left school for Winter Break, it was a shame, she tended to feel less lonely when she was at school; at home everything just turned into an abyss of time, boredom and loneliness. Outside she saw half of the kids going home by foot, or bus, and the other half being picked up by parents or relatives. She couldn’t help but feel a tinge of envy at the sight; her Father was often at work as an accountant and she had never met her Mother. Every time she tried to bring her up while talking to her Dad (which wasn’t very often), he quickly tried to change the subject. As a result, the most she had ever been told about her mother is that she was a green eyed French woman named Noir Arquette who had ran off not long after Lucy’s birth. Lucy climbed on the bus and took the only seat that had not been taken, (which was most of them, including those in which kids suddenly sprawled across the seat in a precarious position as she walked by). After Lucy finally sat down, she looked out the window on the bus as she sketched a scene of unicorns and zombies into her notebook. By the time the bus came to a stop Lucy had drawn an intricate portrait of rainbows raining over a trio of bloodthirsty unicorns trampling on zombies as the undead creatures tried to bite back at the unicorns in vain. Satisfied with the sketch, Lucy jumped off the schoolbus and skipped towards her house on Briarwood Boulevard. The house was pretty small and it was always a little cold, and the inner decor was a little too grey and unwelcoming, but it was Lucy and James Mourn’s home.

“Dad I’m home from school and it’s time to start Winter Break fun!” Lucy sang as she dropped her backpack, threw off her black jacket and striped scarf as she danced around the house. Of course there wasn’t a reply; her Dad was still at work, as always. Lucy untied the shoelaces on her bowtied boots and kicked them off as she went to the kitchen to heat up some ramen noodles from the pantry shelf that she could barely reach due to her petite height. Before she could do so, Lucy stopped and her heart lifted as she saw a little note on the kitchen counter. Dad might've left a note to apologize for not being here, that would’ve been so nice! Yet as Lucy reached for the note her heart fell straight back onto the little hole it was in a moment before. The note on the counter wasn’t written in James Mourn’s handwriting. Thanks Dad.

Dear Lucy Mourn,

I’m sorry I didn’t meet you in person today, but most humans tend to be quite frightened upon meeting me. Essentially, I am Death, you might think this is a prank from your dad, but it’s not. I can’t really prove it but if you notice that the flowers next to your kitchen sink were alive this morning and now they’re all wilted. Sorry about that. Anyway as you may or may not know, I am a friend of your mother, Noir, and I am in need of your assistance in order to help her. I’ll be seeing you tomorrow at noon.

Sincerely,

Death/Grim Reaper/Shinigami/Thanatos/etc.

P.S. You may or may not be in grave danger.

Lucy tilted her head, and couldn’t help but giggle. “I have no idea what’s going on but I also don’t know whether I should be amused or disturbed,” Lucy said to herself. Ask Dad about it later, it’s definitely not a prank, he’s not cool or weird enough for that, her mind answered back. Thanks self. Lucy made the ramen for herself and went to her room to put her earphones on full blast as she started a new sketch, this one of a vengeful little ballerina puppet strangling it’s master with it’s strings. By 6:49 Lucy heard the door unlock as her Dad came home.

“Hiya Dad! Did you see that weird note on the counter? I saw it earlier and decided to ask you about it,” she called as she skipped to the living room. James Mourn set down his briefcase and began to undo his tie as he sat on the couch. “Hey Lucy-Luz, what note are you talking about, there’s nothing here but the ramen packaging you must’ve forgotten to throw away earlier,” he sighed.

Lucy went to the kitchen counter and sure enough, the note was gone. “It was right here, a little note, it said it was written by Death, like the Grim Reaper. He was talking about my Mom, did you put it there as a joke?”

James Mourn froze, then sighed. “Look, I don’t know what you’re trying to pull here Luz, but I’ve had an exhausting day at the office and I’m not ready for your weird goth crap,” her Dad snapped in exasperation.

Lucy drew back, surprised and hurt. “First of all, I’m not lying, and that ‘weird goth crap’ is just how I am, but you wouldn’t even know that would you?,” Lucy said with all the calmness she could muster.

“Don’t sass me, Lucy, I’ve had a long day and I’ll be having another one tomorrow, just go to bed,” her Dad scolded. Lucy scoffed and drifted back to her bedroom, where she practiced smiling until the tears stopped and she changed into her skull covered pajamas. Since it was still only 7:05, Lucy decided to listen to music and watch anime for hours, and hours, until she fell asleep in a tangle of blankets and earphones.

Lucy sat alone in a dark room that resembled the old ballet studio that Lucy used to attend, despite the teacher being exasperated with the alternative dance style Lucy practiced between warm-up sessions. The teacher, Ms. Warrington was never very patient with the children she taught, and Lucy was the only one that actually excelled in the class while still being the most hated by the teacher. Eventually the teacher had an angry outburst and yelled at Lucy, causing James Mourn to take Lucy out of the class. But this wasn’t Lucy’s 4th grade ballet class. It was dark, and there weren’t any instructors or students in sight; It looked wrong. Lucy would have liked to say she was alone, but the mirrored wall with the barres against them reflected images of Lucy, except...different, she looked older, and sadder...it was all wrong. Along with the twisted reflections, there were dark shadowy figures surrounding her. It was impossible to tell how many because of the mirrors, but Lucy was surrounded. Even her reflections looked panicked, and began running towards the surfaces of the mirrors, screaming until they dissolved into black feathers. The spidery, shadowy figures didn’t seem to notice as they advanced towards her, and a little light rose from Lucy’s screaming mouth. ‘You can’t escape’, the shadows sang as their shadow fingers wrapped around her throat.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

Lucy’s jade green eyes popped open and she gasped for breath as she sprang out of bed to turn off the alarm she had set on her phone. Since school was out for a few weeks she had set it to 10 am instead of 6 am. After a long shower Lucy changed into a black t-shirt with a pink broken heart design on the front over a pair of buckled black jeans. James Mourn had already left to go to the office that morning, leaving Lucy to do a few chores around the house. So, after consuming a small bowl of cornflakes Lucy got started on dusting the house. All the while Lucy nervously checked the clock, waiting for Death. Lucy laughed at the idea of it. She looked up at the clock in the living room. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock.

Eventually it was noon and Lucy was still home by herself. No Death, no information about Noir. She scolded herself for being stupid enough for even considering that Death would come knocking on her door. Lucy sighed and took a moment to be jealous of those who wouldn’t have given the notion a second thought, or whose parents would’ve just given a simple “yes or no” without getting triggered and angry. She shrugged it off and finished up dusting the kitchen and began to make herself a sandwich, until she froze to a stop while passing the trash can. What if Dad had the nerve to throw away the note? Lucy flipped open the trash. There was nothing inside except the ramen packaging she had finally remembered to throw away. “Finding anything interesting in there?” a low voice asked from behind her. Lucy whirled around to see a black hooded figure standing in her living room. He was holding a tall black scythe with unfamiliar engravings lining the handle.

“You’re Death,” she whispered with a smile.

Death stepped back, taken aback by the terrifying look of delight on the young girl’s face. “Yes, that’s me, shouldn’t you be a little more, I don’t know, alarmed?”

Lucy kept smiling, “I am alarmed but I’m also pretty happy, I thought I was being crazy and stupid but now I think it’s just plain crazy, but I’m used to that part anyway”.

Death tilted his hood back, revealing a rather confused looking skull. How can he look confused while having no expressions? The world may never know! “You’re late you know, your note said you would be here by noon but now it’s 12:16, you should have said ‘approximately noon’ in your note, then it technically wouldn’t have counted as late”

Death still looked perplexed “I was busy dealing with a guy who had been murdered up in Scotland, he kept on trying to deny that he was dead and it took a surprising amount of time to convince him otherwise. You must be Noir Arquette's daughter, Lucy Mourn”.

Lucy nodded, “So upon reading your letter I wondered; if you’re friends with my Mom then do you know why she’s never been around for me?”

Death seemed to frown, “I didn’t even know you had been born until another friend told me yesterday, I didn’t know that she had abandoned you either”.

Lucy sat down to process everything for a second, “where is she now? Can I speak to her?”

“Well, you see that is exactly why I came to see you. First off, I have large group of people called reapers who help me with my duties as the Grim Reaper, after a while of serving me they develop some of my powers such as teleportation, and being able to reap the souls of the dead by themselves. So when people die, the reapers and I cooperate to open up the doors to the afterlife for them. Your mother, Noir, well she’s- she’s a friend as well as an especially powerful reaper. Yet as I said, I’ve been informed that Noir is missing, and since you have a blood connection with her-”

“I’m your only hope at finding her,” Lucy finished. Death nodded grimly, “I’m also not quite sure if you noticed, but you should have inherited some of your mother’s powers as well”.

Lucy grinned like a maniac, “I can teleport and reap the souls of the dead? I’ve always wanted to do that!”

Death tilted his head, “somehow don’t think that was sarcasm...anyway are you going to help me or not?”

Lucy looked down at the pink little bows on her boots, I’m gonna help my Mom, then I’m gonna give her a little wrapped up box of hell. Lucy reconsidered the offer one last time. “Yep, that sounds like a plan”. Death raised his scythe and slammed the bottom of it towards the ground, suddenly the world erupted into shadows. When light returned, they were standing in a large, dim study with leather bound books lining the walls. Lucy staggered, “Did we. Just. Teleport?”

Death nodded and chuckled, “you must be Noir’s kid considering that you haven’t vomited on my new robes yet”.

“Ha, but um, I forgot my jacket though can we go back for a sec?”

After teleporting back in order to get Lucy her jacket, gloves, and phone, Death teleported them back to his ‘house’, which really seemed more like one of those cool gloomy castles that served as a secret lair for villains in movies. Lucy sat down at the study’s sofa as Death poured some tea.

“So do your deathlings live here too?”

“First of all they’re called reapers, never call them deathlings again, and yes, some of my most trusted reapers live here”.

“Does that include my mom?”

Death paused, “yes, Noir normally lives in the northern wing over there,” he said, pointing towards the staircase down the hall. Lucy laughed bitterly, “I’m in my mom’s house, I’ve been standing where she stood, it’s just so weird”. Death finished pouring the tea, “I um, I understand that this isn’t easy for you,so would you like some feel-better madeline's to go with you tea?” Lucy bit back a laugh. The Grim Reaper eats little pastries with his tea? “Hey, hey stop laughing at my madeleines, I get enough of that from your mother and Life”. Lucy stopped laughing and thought for a second before gaping, “Life? Is- is life a person too?”

“Technically she’s more of a magical entity sorta thing like myself, she’s the friend who informed me that Noir was missing, and of your existence. You know since she like senses people’s lives and things, she should be joining us in a few moments now”. Lucy opened her mouth to say more-

“HELLO DARKNESS MY OLD FRIEND!” a feminine voice sang from the other room.

“Damn it Life, I’ve been telling you to stop doing that since the 1960’s, can’t you just say hello like a normal person?”

The door to the study swung open for a beautiful woman in a long white and cream dress. Her skin was a radiant shade of caramel and her blondish hair was pinned up so that only one wave of curls hung by the side of her head. Yet it was her eyes that intrigued Lucy, at first she thought they were dark brown, but they were frequently shifting to a moonlight shade of pale gold; like some brilliant array of shadow and light. “Why, I’m just making a fun first impression, Death, and look at little Lucy here, she looks- wow she looks just like Noir doesn’t she?”

“Hmm, that’s an exaggeration, she just has Noirs’ face shape and eyes. Oh, and don’t get too enthralled by Life, Lucy; she’s crueler than she looks”. Life’s radiant eyes dazzled as she flipped her curls as a wicked smirk spread on her face. “You always have to spoil the fun”. Death laughed, “well someone had to warn the child, didn’t they? Come now Life, join us for tea and madeleines”.

“Pfft, you and your little tea cakes-”

“Shut up,” Death said as he poured another cup of tea for Life. “So, Lucy how do you like your tea?”

“Sugary and creamy”Lucy chirped, still watching the way Life almost seemed to glow and bring light to the dim study. “Ugh you monster, oh well, some cream and sugar for Lucy, and I know that Life likes her tea with honey and lemon”. Life produced a lemon out of thin air and squirted a bit into her cup of tea. Lucy opened her mouth to speak. “No puns please, the ‘life gives you lemons’ jokes get really, really old” Death said quickly. “Come now Death, the only thing that gets old around here is your weird skeleton aesthetic, I mean it’s just overly dramatic in my opinion” Life said with a mischievous grin as she sipped her tea. Lucy watched in awe as Death grudgingly shifted from a cloaked skeleton to a dark haired man in a black suit. Death muttered something about aesthetic as he took a sip from his cup. “You guys can shapeshift? Can the reapers and I shapeshift too?”

“Not in a thousand years, literally, we haven’t seen anyone do that by themselves in a little less than a thousand years.

“Oh well, I kinda expected that.”

“You might learn someday, your mom did it once”

“A thousand years ago?”

“She wasn't human; when someone becomes a reaper, they are immortal”

“So, she was born in medieval times?”

Death nodded, “I think she was in her early twenties at the time, just beginning as a reaper. A wicked man with a strong soul had died, and he wasn’t very happy about it. After becoming a ghost he drifted off to haunt an enemy of his by driving him mad and chasing him off a cliff. Noir distracted the ghost at the last minute and reaped him. Yet while doing so she ended up falling off that cliff, as I ran to help I saw your mother vanish into thin air, and a crow flew in her place. The crow flew up to me and suddenly transformed into Noir, who if I recall had been grinning like a maniac the whole time. That’s the last actual shape shifting I’ve seen from a reaper”. A thousand thoughts and emotions filled Lucy’s mind. Her heroism would’ve ended her, perhaps she’s gone missing for similar reasons. “Well, that’s the last time a reaper has shapeshifted, but I had a kindler who shapeshifted into a cat around three years ago, yet I always thought he seemed more like a dog person,” Life said, changing the topic.

“What are kindlers?”

“Death has his reapers, I have my kindlers, they go around, sparking life into pregnant mothers”.

“Doesn’t that mean that a kindler had to spark life into my Mom, a reaper?”

Life nodded, “Yes, it does seem a bit odd, I’ve been looking for the kindler that sparked you into existence since yesterday. Despite being easier said than done, I found her this morning, she’s the same kindler that sparked your mother, a few other reapers, and even a few of her fellow kindlers, so I thought that we could pay her a visit to ask about Noir’s absence”.

“Good plan,” Death said in agreement as Lucy looked down at her tea in confusion. She found it pretty unnerving that they would be meeting the person who practically gave life to both herself and her mother along with countless others just as part of her daily routine. The thought actually seemed put her off her tea. Death saw her reaction and snickered, “oh Miss Mourn, if you think this is strange already then you’re in for quite a ride”.

Chapter Two

Once they were finished, Death waved a hand over the tea set and it vanished into darkness. “Shall we then?” Life asked as she twirled out of the living chair she had been sitting in and strutted out of the room.

“Oh, she meant now? Like- we’re going right now?” Lucy asked. Death sighed and straightened his tie as he rose from his chair, following his lively friend out of the study. The hallway outside had a similar, stylishly gothic style as the study. Lucy took note of the picture frames on the walls, most filled with people whom Lucy assumed were various reapers. She paused before a portrait of a green eyed woman with high cheekbones and long black hair. Despite having a smile on her face, the woman had a very brooding, shadowy look to her. Lucy understood what Life had said about there being a strong resemblance between her and her Mother. With a little smile, she joined Life and Death at the foot of a staircase. “Life, you do realize that we could just teleport to your kindler’s house right now?”

“Yes but your study looks gloomy and just a little bit sad, it’s nicer in this hallway, you need to put flowers in there or something”.

“I always end up killing flowers after trying to water them. You know this, you’ve seen it happen many times”.

“Yes but I like to encourage you to do otherwise because you look like a depressed kitten every time you fail at gardening”.

“That’s insulting and it doesn’t even make sense…”Death muttered while blush spread across his face.

Life shushed him as a gold staff appeared from her hand and the world disappeared into glimmering light. A second later they stood in what appeared to be in the kitchen of a luxury apartment with a view of the busy streets of New York City. “Amy are you home? Me, Death, and Noir Arquette’s kid are here, we want to talk to you”. The only response was silence. “Let me rephrase that, Ambrosia Galanis you better get out here, ‘cause it’s a matter of Life and Death and I will personally release my wrath against you”. There was some shuffling heard from the other room and a woman rushed in. She was tall with curly brown hair and tanned skin, despite having a gleam in her eyes that Lucy normally would have found a little intimidating, the effect was ruined by the terrified expression on the Ambrosia’s face. “Guys, I didn’t know anything about Noir’s disappearance, I just heard about it yesterday, I’m sorry but I can’t help you”.

“Well you seem a little worrisome considering that you know nothing,” Life noted with a skeptical glare as her staff began to glow as her eyes darkened.

“No I’m telling the truth! Well, I felt her grow distant, you know? I thought it was nothing at first but after a while I got worried…” she trailed off with a look of terror in her eyes as she backed away from the dangerous glares coming from Life and Death. Lucy looked at Ambrosia, who was practically cowering in front of her. So this is who sparked my existence? Her patience was growing thinner by the second. “Listen up, I don’t care how much these two scare you. If you know anything about what happened to my Mom you might as well spit it out right now instead of sitting here like a pathetic bundle of fear,” Lucy growled as she stepped forward from Death’s side. If anything, this somehow seemed to frighten her more than Life did. She mustered a smile as she looked down at Lucy’s green eyed stare. “Look how you’ve grown up, you remind me of Noir”

“So I’ve been told. Information. Now.”

Ambrosia’s smile faded, “look, I last saw her the other day reaping a suicide after sparking someone a few minutes before. Of course, I stopped and said hi to her, apparently she was going to meet up with the Balthazar Jones so she was in a bit of a hurry. But I’m sure that Balthazar had nothing to do with the disappearance; he wouldn’t do anything like that I’m sure”. Death shifted his jaw, “Balthazar is one of my strongest reapers; if he was responsible for this, I’ll impale him with my scythe,” he growled, gripping his scythe tightly enough for Lucy to see the whites of his knuckles. “Thank you for your reluctant cooperation, Ambrosia. But I’ll keep a careful eye on you considering just how willing you were to hold back information from me,” Life said to Ambrosia, who had a look of relief on her face before it was filled with shame once more.

“Of course,my Lady, I promise to keep in touch if I learn anything”. Life gave a nod of approval, and with a wave of Death’s scythe, the room disappeared into darkness. Lucy blinked and staggered into what appeared to be an empty store. ”You know what Mr. Death I think I would like a warning next time we teleport, what are we going to do now anyway, where are we?”

Death sighed “well since Life’s almost-traitor didn’t have an answer to whatever happened to Noir, I suppose I’ll have to go beat it out of Balthazar”. Life shifted her jaw, “it’s not my fault that Ambrosia was tight lipped about the subject, she’s been loyal to me since ancient times, I won’t punish her too much for her weird thing for Balthazar.”

“She’s been around since ancient times?”

“Yes, she’s one of my oldest followers, yet I thought she would’ve at least developed some better tastes in men over time”. Death laughed, “Well, I won’t judge people’s interests, Balthazar isn’t so bad as he seems; of course, that was before I knew he was involved in all of this”. Lucy was curious about this Balthazar Jones now, she looked around again, “Oookay but you still haven’t told me why we’re in a store, that doesn’t have any items, or employees, or anything?” Life and Death looked around, as if they were just noticing this. Death didn’t have an emotionless skull to hide his annoyance, “this was a shop for dress clothes a few weeks ago, wasn’t it Life?”

“It had a sign saying that it was clearing out in two weeks, Death”

“Oh,” he said looking disappointed, “very well, we’re in a mall in Seattle, Balthazar hangs out here most of the time, let’s go,” Death proceeded out of the shop and into the busy shopping mall as Life turned to Lucy and murmured,

”he truly is horrible at remembering dates like this, I keep telling him to put little reminders on his fridge but he’s impossibly stubborn”.

“Isn’t anyone in the shopping mall going to question seeing a man and woman holding scythes and staffs?”

“Ha, nope, we go completely unnoticed by mortals, unless we want them to see us”.

Sure enough no one questioned Death, who was twirling his scythe like a cane, or radiant Life, who was strutting through the shoppers without receiving a single glance, not even from the group of guys who were snickering at a display in a lingerie shop. They went unnoticed by everybody, all except one.

Sitting by the edge of a fountain, a messy haired man in a leather jacket was giving the trio an impish grin. As Lucy drew near she saw that the curtains of mousy untamed hair were hiding a long scar that ran from the bridge of his nose to his cheekbone, despite his grungy appearance, he still had a somewhat handsome face. “Hey Mister Grim, it’s been a while! This isn’t about that time I used my scythe to open that door even though it turned out that the door wasn’t stuck, just a ‘pull to open’ door I was trying to push?”

Death looked befuddled as he processed that question. “No, um, we might talk about that later but that’s not why I came here. But I think you know that, Balthazar.”

Balthazar Jones went pale as Death looked him in the eyes. He pushed a lock of matted hair back and stared at the floor, “I know what it might look like, but I just wanted to warn her. I knew what was going to happen and I told her to prepare herself, is...is she okay?”

Life’s staff began to glow and spark in an violet manner, as if it was ready to explode. Death looked eerily calm for a second before he swung his scythe at Balthazar and stopped the blade as it was only an inch away from his throat. Life put a hand on Death’s shoulder, “Come on Death, you don’t want to kill him, you want to keep him alive so he can suffer.”

Death ignored this comment and kept his dark eyed gaze fixed on Balthazar.

“Zar, I know that you’re actually a good guy, but if you don’t tell me the whole story people are about to be quite startled by such a sudden decapitation,”

Balthazar Jones whimpered, “really man? I thought this whole threatening stuff was more of Lady Life’s sorta thing. B-but yeah, I understand. I knew that they were going to set her up. That’s why I’d wanted to talk to Noir, to warn her. She just wouldn’t listen she said that if they wanted her she would go to them and start a fight”. Lucy summed up her courage and slowly moved Death’s scythe away from Balthazar’s throat, thankfully he didn’t put up much of a fight.

“Who took her? Tell me what happened to my Mom.”

Balthazar took a deep breath, “Death and Life have lost reapers and kindlers in the past, sometimes they themselves are reaped, other times, they just disappeared. They overused their magic, or got caught in a barrier, so they left without Death’s guidance; we always assumed that they died or just erased from existence” he breathed shakingly.

“We were wrong. They- they transformed”.

Life scoffed as her staff’s glow began to go out of control as it burned white hot, “they transformed into what? Into dust? Don’t chide about lost kindlers and reapers, Jones, or you might just join them.”

Balthazar swallowed. “I’m not kidding, or chiding- whatever this isn’t a joke! Reapers and kindlers, we’re immortal, magical even, but deep down we’re still human, these things, I don’t even know what they’ve become. I saw them, among them I saw Chetan Malhotra, he was a friend and fellow reaper, until he disappeared a hundred years ago. He was different when I saw him, a monster, his appearance and even his...mentality was unrecognizable. Like a monster, with..all these shadows, not like Death’s, these ones were just...wrong.”

Lucy recalled her nightmare from the previous night and shuddered. It was all wrong.

Yet Life arched an eyebrow, unconvinced. Death looked as if he was ready to swing his scythe right back at Balthazar’s head.

“Just how do you even know this, how did you know what would happen to Noir?”

“Well you see, that’s where it get’s weird. It um, it kinda came to me in a dream”.

Lucy stared, unblinking. “You expect me to find my Mom based off of some dream? I had a dream that Cthulhu became a ballerina against his parent’s wishes and that hasn’t happened yet...at least I don’t think it has-”

“What Miss Mourn is trying to say is that you’re an idiot when you’re awake and I think your brain turns into solid rock when you sleep.”

Life smirked at this comment while Balthazar looked a bit hurt. “Yo that’s a bit harsh, Mr. Grim.”

“My point is that you seem pretty unreliable at the moment”.

Balthazar’s voice wavered, “That’s what Arquette thought before she was set up. She didn’t believe me but I had a dream, no, a nightmare where they surrounded me, one second they were the kindlers and reapers who I used to know and the next they showed themselves as what they’d become. They want a world without Life or Death, they want the rest of the kindlers and reapers to join them, First they tried to make me become like them, they told me to open up a barrier and fall through it and I would be like them, I could kill whoever I wanted without consequence, I would never have to die, I wouldn’t have to struggle through life; I would just join them in their sick version of peace. When I said no to them, the dream shifted. I saw a cage with a little light inside it, a little bird, a crow I think, flew towards the light, when suddenly the others, their arms sprouted from the bars of the cage and dragged the bird in, when it entered the cage it turned into Noir”.

Lucy’s mouth went dry as she looked up at Death. “My Mom turned into a crow once,” she uttered, but she was thinking so much more. A little light. Death nodded grimly, “Indeed, okay Zar, this um...this seems like a pretty legitimate dream, do you know where they are right now?”. Balthazar shook his head, “I’m sorry man, I know that Arquette was-”

“It’s okay Balthazar, you’ve told us all you could, I’ll keep in touch with you. Unfortunately people are starting to stare at you and Lucy talking to yourselves right now so we’ll have to get going”. And so he promptly turned and walked away. “I’ll see you later, Jones,” Life said before running after Death. Lucy thought over everything that Balthazar had said about his dream.

‘Lucy Luz’. L u c y L i g h t.

In my dream I breathed a light while being strangled by shadows.

“Well that’s interesting,” she said aloud. Lucy had caught up with Life, “What’s interesting, that Balthazar Jones just happened to have a dream that explained what could be going on right now while also bringing up an issue to distract us from Noir?” she asked sarcastically.

“Um, nope. That’s not what I found interesting. What I did find interesting is that a light was in a cage, my Dad’s only nickname for me is Lucy Luz, my Grandma was hispanic so she taught him spanish while he was growing up, apparently ‘luz’ means ‘light’ in spanish. Plus I had this nightmare the other day where a light came out of my mouth. Isn’t it a little more than weird that my Mom just happened to be flying towards a light?” she asked quietly. Life furrowed her brow, “that is rather interesting”. When they caught up with Death, he was waiting for them in front of a coffee shop. “Lucy, this seems to have grown to be a far more dangerous problem than I had anticipated, I think you might have to begin a career as a reaper”.

Chapter Three

“I’m sorry what now?”

Lucy asked as her cat eared hat nearly flew off as she skidded to a halt. Life appeared just as startled as Lucy did. “Um, Death? You’re my oldest friend, my business partner, and as much as I hate to admit it, you’re a bit of a genius too. But I don’t know where you’re going with this. I’m not sure if you know this, but Lucy is only twelve years old, she’s a child. You can’t force her into this!”

“Life darling, I’m not forcing the girl into this, it’s just a suggestion! With danger on the rise she’s going to need to tap into her powers to defend herself!” he snapped back. “Don’t ‘Life darling’ me!”

Lucy ran the words over in her mind as Life and Death’s argument blurred out into the background. That was until their argument got loud enough to make it hard to block it out. Lucy took a deep breath and looked up. “SHUT UP!” she shrieked. Life, Death, and a few shoppers stopped and looked at Lucy, who had now fallen silent.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be that loud,” she added, lowering her voice,”anyway I accept your offer, I think I should be able to have some magic on hand and I would love to help you with your work”. Death had a brief look of satisfaction as Life glared at him with eyes like golden daggers. She didn’t look convinced.

“Lucy, this business is not a game, you’ll grow up, but after that you won’t age unless you choose to eventually retire, but I have seen that humans find immortality addictive. You can see your home, your friends, family, everything you know may grow old and perish, you may even be the ones to take them to the afterlife. I’ve seen immortals get torn apart by this, yet they still feel the need to live forever. I don’t want you to get drawn into this unless you truly want to”. Lucy pursed her lips, “well, I don’t have any friends and I barely have any family so I guess I might as well do something cool like reaping the souls of the dead,” she said decidedly. Death gave Life an ‘I told you so’ look of smugness as she stared in puzzlement. “Are you sure you don’t have any friends? Not even a crush or good acquaintance, you seem like a likeable girl”.

Lucy lit up, “Wowee, do you really mean it? Plenty of adults say that and regret it later but I think you really mean it! Actually the sad part is that I think you guys are the closest thing I have to friends. Huh, that’s depressing when I say it out loud”.

While Life smiled awkwardly, Death’s face softened in pity as he smiled, “if you truly feel ready, then let’s go get you a scythe”.

“So this scythe is mine? You’re actually giving a magic, fully functioning blade to me, a child? That. Is. Awesome!” After teleporting back to Death’s house, he had led her back to his study and held out his hands, producing a small, ebony handled scythe with ornate carvings and a smooth, curved blade. “What kind of metal is it?”

“Honestly I just call it death metal.”

“Like, the music genre?”

“Yeah…I think one of my ex reapers coined the term for the music genre to annoy me…just put your hands on the handle.”

“Oh, okay.”

It was more like a mini-scythe, smaller than a baseball bat, but it still had odd aura of power around it. Lucy placed her hands on the scythe, it felt right in her hands, like it had been a missing part of her before. “Don’t get too excited Lucy, you still need to agree to the terms and conditions,” Life said from her seat at the reading chair, engrossed in a book. Death rolled his eyes amusedly and turned his gaze back to Lucy.

“Lucia Nicolette Mourn, do you swear to obey the laws of Death?”

“Yes, but I’ll like to hear the laws and how the heck do you know my full name? That’s a bit creepy.”

“Just shut up and continue the ancient ritual.”

“Did you name the laws after yourself?”

Death ignored her and continued. “Do you swear to send the departed souls to their rightful place, to be unbiased as you open the various doors to the afterlife?”

“I do”

“Do you swear not to use the power of the scythe for greed, and with the exception of my permission, to use it only to transition the deceased?”

“I do”

“Do you swear to remain loyal to me and to Life for the rest of your immortality?”

“I do”

“Then do you accept all the duties of being a reaper?”

“Yaaaaasss!”

Life bit back a giggle as Death facepalmed, hiding his half-smile.

“A bit of an untraditional response but okay. Lucy Mourn, you are now a reaper”.

Lucy released a shriek of maniacal laughter as she did a violent little victory dance that caused Death to step back nervously. “Can I have my scythe now?”

“I’m seriously regretting this decision,” he said as he set the scythe in her hands. “Wait a minute I have something else too,” he said as he stood up and reached into the desk behind him, pulling out a leather container. “You can switch down the blade of the scythe- no not like that you’ll slice your hand off-that’s it-okay now you have it, anyway after switching it down it can fit in this case which you can wear on your back, almost like a quiver”. Lucy put her scythe in the case and slung it over her back, “sweet, but what if someone asks what’s inside?”

“There’s a symbol by the opening flap-there you go, now mortals can’t see it.”

“Couldn’t it just be a button, why is it a fancy little symbol?”

“That’s what I suggested,” Life interjected from her reading chair.

“Magic symbols look cooler, plus the magic used to place the symbol is a lot easier than having to manufacture a button on them.”

“That’s a good point,” Life agreed with a frown as she put down her book. Lucy reached back in her case and pulled out the scythe. “So how do I use this? It doesn’t seem long enough to plant into the ground like Death does it”. Life laughed, “he does that for aesthetic and style, it actually doesn’t need to be that dramatic.”

“You do the exact same thing.”

“I can have style and aesthetic too.”

“Aside from style and aesthetic, all you need to do to activate it is will it to do as you ask, sometimes planting it into the ground or doing a sort of pose is the thing that helps you bring out your own power, like the old quote from Galileo Galilei, ‘You cannot teach a man anything; he must find it within himself’. Basically it’s your scythe, you can figure out how to use it,” Death explained.

“When do I start?”

“Tomorrow, approximately 11 am, it’s getting late, I think your father may be getting off work soon,” Lucy checked the time on her phone, of course Death was right, it was 6:20, James Mourn would be home soon enough.

Lucy Mourn took a shower and changed into her pink nightgown. Upon being teleported back home, which now looked even more mundane than it had before It’s been one hell of a day, now I’m one of Death’s reapers on a mission to save my Mom. Lucy began to process how eerily calm she was about the matter. A matter of Life and Death? She giggled and skipped to her room, where she took out the scythe out of her case and ran a finger down the carvings on the handle, my new favorite toy. “Lucy Luz, I’m back from work”. Lucy sighed, shoved the scythe back into it’s case and placed a finger over the symbol by the opening a second before her Father walked in and adjusted his glasses, “I wanted to apologize for how harsh I was yesterday, I understand now that you were acting out because you just wanted to talk,”

“Sure Dad, because my weird changing body and my weird changing mind are rendering me incapable of starting a conversation like any other human being”.

“That’s a bit much but yeah, that’s what I gathered from it”, he responded, apparently ignorant to the overpowering sarcasm in her voice. “Anyway I thought that I could make dinner tonight, does spaghetti sound good?”

Lucy sighed again, at least her Dad got something right. “Yes, spaghetti’s good.”

“Maybe after dinner we can,um, talk? About stuff?”

“Sure, Dad, I need to- um study some maths. We have a test after break.”

“Oh, okay Luz,” he said after going to start dinner.

It was moments like this where her Dad seemed to try, and that’s what mattered. She wished she could tell him about everything that had happened that day. She wanted to see his face when he learned what her Mother had been up to for the last twelve years. The mother of your child reaps the souls of the dead for a living. Lucy giggled, she wouldn’t tell him yet, she would wait to tell him after finding her Mom so that they could all tell the story together.

Like a normal family.

The thought of it put a smile on Lucy’s face. She pulled out her sketchbook and started dragging a pencil across one of the empty pages. By the time she was finished she was looking at a cartoonish sketch of Death, Life, herself, and her parents. She had remembered her mother’s face from the photograph she had seen earlier, Death wasn’t too hard to sketch, in fact Lucy had drawn Grim Reaper-looking figures before, so the only difference was that instead of posing in a surreal manner, he was simply having a cup of tea. It was hard for her to capture Life’s supernatural beauty on the page, but she had managed to draw an alluring woman with Life’s same features and style, which was close enough. Then she drew James Mourn, sitting down and listening intently as Lucy held her new scythe and talked to him. She drew the picture as something to work for, no matter what sort of trials she was going to end up facing, the sketch would be a promise. A promise that Lucy was determined to keep with all of her being.

“Dinner’s ready!” her Dad shouted from the kitchen.

“I’m coming,” Lucy replied as she hastily put away her sketchbook and skipped over to the dining room to set the table for two.

“So Lucy, what did you do today?” James Mourn asked once they were seated.

Lucy froze for second, afraid she would spit out her drink.

“Stuff. I did stuff. I did the chores I needed to do, um…”

It was never this hard for Lucy to think of normal thing to do before then. “TV, I read TV, watched books, y’know...things”.

“Um..cool, that’s cool. I did stuff too. Not that kind of stuff of course, I was doing paperwork and things all day.”

There was a minute or so of awkward silence. “I gather that you wanted to talk about your Mom the other day, you were wondering if she’s dead?”

Given the recent information from Balthazar Jones, Lucy was starting to wonder that. “Well, I guess, we don’t talk about her often, and sometimes I wish that I knew more about where I came from”. And I did receive a load of that so I can’t complain much.

“Well then, if you really want to know more about her, we met while I was in college. I was a student at Cambridge University and I was trying to take the bus to school that morning but since there was such a horrible car accident, there was enough traffic that I decided that it would probably be faster if I just walked the rest of the way instead.”

Lucy put quite a bit of effort into keeping a straight face as she was beginning to grasp that her Dad had likely interrupted her Mom in the middle of a reaper work shift.

“As I got off and started walking I saw her walking away from the area where the accident was. I figured it must have been pretty bad if the accident had delayed the traffic for such a long time so I went up to her and asked if she knew if the drivers were okay. I remember her taking off her sunglasses and I panicked for a second because I realized I had just spoken to such a pretty woman. She looked oddly calm as she was telling me that they’d died. It seems a bit sick to fall in love with someone as they talked about dead people, but I did so anyway, I think it was the French accent.”

Lucy put her fork down.

“Please tell me you didn’t make plans for coffee after several people had just died, that’s just a tiny bit too weird.”

“Of course not, I asked if the crosswalk where I needed to get off to the University was blocked and well, it was, getting rid of my plans for the day. I don’t think she had much else to do either, given that she had started a conversation, asking if I was a student and such, so a few moments later I knew that her name was Noir Arquette, it seemed like a fitting name, she had a dark sort of look to her in a way, as if she was constantly mourning, maybe that’s why she started dating me after I saw her again and we talked few days later. It seemed to be a second chance for me to ask her out, so I did. She didn’t like to talk about her family, saying that they had died long before then, but she said that she worked at a morgue, making the irony of all of it even sweeter.”

You don’t even know the scale of the irony here.

“We fell deeper in love over time, and over a year later she found that she was pregnant with you. Even though we weren’t married, everything went smoothly for a while, Grandma and Grandpa were supportive of us and we were happy. And when you were born everything was complete for a while, I’d never seen your mother smile quite so brightly after seeing you for the first time, and that’s saying a lot because she was always smiling, a lot like you do. But one day I woke up and she was gone, there was a note that said that she was sorry and she hoped to see us again, but that was it, half of her belongings were still there but she was gone. After thinking it over I realized she had a few friends she had said were back in France. There was a guy named Mort who she had been friends with. She said they were friends, and that guy Mort worked with another friend named Liv, I just assumed they were a couple, but your Mom didn’t talk about them too often. In the end, she could’ve ran away with Mort, or maybe she just wasn’t ready to have a child. Either way, she was gone”.

Lucy looked down at what was left of her spaghetti, she didn’t know what to say. Hey Dad, Mort and Liv are actually Death and Life, and they’re all just good pals that deal with dead people and living people as their job? She figured that probably wouldn’t go over well. “You’ll know the whole story eventually Dad, I know it”. James Mourn looked up, suddenly looking older and more worn than before.

“If you say so Lucy Luz...but um, I hope dinner wasn’t too poisonous, and I have to go do the dishes”. Lucy gave a reassuring smile to her Father and went back to her room. She was determined to have a conversation with her Mother when she found her, and she was eager to have a talk with Death the next day.

By the time she woke up the next morning, Lucy’s Dad had left for work and she had started getting ready for her training with Death. By 11:24 Lucy had been waiting for a little while and Death appeared in a shroud of black smoke that had disappeared as soon as it had materialized.

“Good morning Lucy, are you ready for our training session?”

“Yep, right after you tell me why my Mom wasn’t able to stay with me when I was a baby.”

“I’m sorry what?”

“My Dad said that before leaving she had left a note saying that she had to go. Why couldn’t she have stayed?”

“Well, there’s no reason she wouldn’t have been allowed to, I have plenty of reapers with mortal spouses and families, heck I have reapers whose entire families work with me and Life. She could have simply told me that she had a family instead of running of to ‘work’ or hiding away all the time. I’m sorry Lucy but I don’t know why she would’ve left you,” he said with a touch of bitterness on the subject. Lucy nodded in understanding as she picked her scythe case off of the chair she was sitting in and pulled it over her shoulder.

“Well then, I guess I’m ready to do some training.”

Death gave an odd skeletal look of approval before slamming his scythe into the ground and teleporting them to a sidewalk in a busy city with plenty of tall buildings looming over their heads. “Where are we?”

“Seoul, South Korea, and if my scythe is correct, as it always is, we’re about to see someone die”.

Chapter Four

“You can’t just say that someone’s about to die and then start walking down the street! It’s not very polite for anyone as confused as myself.”

“We’re about to reap a soul, it’s a rather major part of the job.”

“So we’re reaping a soul in Seoul?”

“Was that pun really necessary?”

“Yep.”

Death tilted his skull in a way that suggested that he was rolling his eyes. “Seoul has one of the highest suicide rates in the world, so one of these buildings is more than likely going to have someone fall down the side of it in three....two...one…”

A screech rang out and before any of the surrounding people could process what had happened, a woman was lying face down on the pavement.

“Holy- you’re right, there’s a dead person!” “Is it really? I would never have known,” he said with his words dripping in sarcasm.

“Well, Jesus I’ve never seen someone’s death before, oh my god shouldn’t we do something? I feel like I should be much more disturbed than I am right now,why am I so calm about this?”

“Everyone is calling the police, the hospital, etc. But it doesn’t change the fact that she’s dead...- come on Lucy don’t look at me like that- watch this”. Lucy watched as a wisp rose from the woman’s grotesquely sprawled body and transformed into a ghost. The woman’s ghost rose, with a petrified look on her face as she saw medics take away her body, then her gaze shifted over to Lucy and Death. She began frantically speaking in Korean, looking like she was about to cry.

“Don’t worry Gi, I’ll be here to make sure you’ll get to your afterlife, you can’t change anything now”.

Lucy was confused. After thinking for a moment, she realized that it was only reasonable that Death should be able to understand every language, everyone (no matter what country they lived in) died eventually. Death seemed to notice Lucy’s puzzlement as he placed a cold, skeletal hand on Lucy’s shoulder. Suddenly the ghostly woman’s words became clear.

“I was just getting so tired of living and now, here I am! But now I can’t believe I’m dead, I’m regretting it a little actually...it’s too late now though, isn’t it?” she asked Death with translucent tears in her eyes.

“I’m afraid so, Miss Gi. But everything should be alright after I ask you a few questions, with my assistant,Lucy Mourn, here to help,” he explained, gesturing towards Lucy, who gave an awkward little wave.

And for the magician’s final act, assisted by the lovely Lucy Mourn, he takes a suicide victim to the afterlife!*applause*

Death pulled a small, leather bound booklet out of a pocket in his robe and handed it to Lucy, “go to page 3 and read the questions,” he murmured under his breath.

Lucy fumbled with the packet and found page 3, much to the confusion of the ghost woman, Gi. Lucy bit her lip as she looked down at the paper and saw a series of questions written.

How did the deceased die?

“So um, Gi, this is a stupid question but how did you die?”

Gi pushed back a ghosty strand of hair, “Young girl, did you not see me just jumping off of a building?”

“Yes. Yes you did.”

She looked down at the second question.

Did the deceased find themselves to be just of heart?

“Do um, this is really weird, do you think you’re ‘just of heart’?”

Gi tilted her head and furrowed her brow.

“Um,” Death interjected, “she just means if you think you’re a good person.”

Gi’s expression softened. “No, I’m useless and I don’t fit into society, that’s why I left.”

Lucy looked at Death for help.

“But if you looked at the world in a different light, and if society didn’t break you, then how would you see yourself?”Death asked softly.

Gi looked down, “if I was able to fix everything, if I could find a purpose, then I would be good, looking back, I wish I could have talked to my family. My aunt might miss me. I feel bad about it now.”

Lucy’s scythe began to give of a bizarre, gentle vibrating feeling. She looked down and saw that one of the sigils along the sides seemed to glow white-ish. “You’ll see her again, sooner than it may seem,” Death assured her.

“Now Lucy, this is when you open the door to the afterlife.”

“What.”

“You can do it, trust your scythe.”

“What.”

Lucy bit her lip and gripped her scythe tighter. What if she thought of it less as an object? It felt like a part of her, but what if it was a part of her? Then all she would need to do is make a simple cut with the blade, cut open the door. Lucy thrust out her scythe and cried out as a bright yet shadowy sort of stream shot out of the blade and formed itself into an archway. Holy crap that worked.

“That was faster than I expected,especially considering that it’s her first day on the job,” Death explained to Gi, who for a second seemed to be regretting her decision to die. Yet within a moment she drifted towards the archway and it all vanished.

Lucy staggered and took a deep breath, “so this is what you do?”

“Yes, this is what I do, and you’ve completed your first training session.”

“It’s pretty cool, I hope she went to heaven, or...whatever...what happens afterward anyway?”

“Hell if I know, why would the doorman know what happens at the party?”

“That’s a good analogy. But is the afterlife-opening always so dramatic?”

“No, it actually looks a pretty choppy and anticlimactic the first few times, but at least now you have the main idea of it. I’m actually quite amazed, I was certain that I would need to help you at some point.”

Lucy smiled smugly “I’m special.”

“Well, yes...yes, it would seem so.”

“I’m the chosen one.”

“That sounds stupid.”

“Nope I’m the chosen one”.

Death sighed, “now that you’ve activated the scythe, it should notify you when there’s a death you can take care of.”

“But people die every second,”

“Yes but I have quite a few reapers working for me, so the worst case scenario is that a ghost ends up haunting something for a short period of time but it’s nothing that can’t get cleaned up later.” In a whirlwind of darkness, they arrived in Death’s study, where Life was putting some yellow flowers in a silver, skull shaped vase on the ebony desk.

“Does she um, live here?” Lucy wondered aloud. Death chuckled.

“It seems like that sometimes, but no, she kind of leaves for a while then shows up to annoy me again, a bit like weeds. Life darling, did you teleport in here without my permission again?”

Life stopped fussing with the flowers and rolled her eyes.

“It would be nice if you stopped assuming that, Your reaper Mei Katayama opened the door for me.”

“Isn’t she supposed to be in Japan?”

“She’s down in the Halls of the Departed, doing paperwork, apparently six men shot each other at the exact same time so she’s trying to file who killed who.”

“Poor girl, I’ll have to give her a pay raise for this month,” Death sympathized.

“What are the Halls of the Departed?”

The yellow flowers went into full bloom as Life gave them one last touch, “it’s basically where Death keep files on all dead people in history. Halls of the Departed just sounds nice and intimidating. My place has the Halls of the Living, which is essentially the same thing but with files on all living people,” Life explained.

“Actually, I was just about to take Lucy by there to the Location Center to further our search for Noir,” Death said.

Lucy raised an eyebrow, “I assume that the Location Center is for locating people?”

“Exactly, I can locate all of the reapers from there,” Death responded as he took a black box from his desk and left the room, black cloak flowing behind him. “I’ve never understood the skeleton aesthetic,” Life muttered as she and Lucy followed him as he continued down the hall and began to go down the stone staircase. They had entered a part of the house Lucy hadn’t seen before. It was similarly decorated to the rest of the house but with more portraits and art on the walls. As they turned the corner the trio nearly collided with a bespeckled young woman in a leather jacket with several folders in her arms.

“Death! Life! How nice to see you, I-i’m sorry I was just about to ask you to check these files, I think I’ve finished them up but I want to make sure I know who killed who. Y’know because these guys all shot each other at once-”

“Yes, Life told me. It’s nice to see you too Mei,” Death said as the bespeckled reaper, Mei, handed Death the folders. After running a skeletal hand over them with his head lowered he looked up and nodded, “excellent job Mei, you’ve managed to figure out that Haru shot Gyo who shot Kyle who shot Yuki who shot Greg who shot Ben who shot Haru. If I didn’t know better I would say that you’ve been working here for forty years instead of fourteen.”

She sighed with a relieved look on her face, “that’s great because for a second I thought that Gyo shot Ben who shot Yuki while he shot Haru while he shot Kyle while he shot Gyo while he, finally, shot Greg. I would’ve been in the Halls of the Deceased all night if that was the case.”

“Nope, although that would’ve been a disaster, you got it right.” Death said with a proud smile. Mei’s gaze fell on Lucy, “and who’s the little goth girlscout?”

Lucy took this condescending remark with a smile, “actually I think I’m a little too old to join girl scouts, and it’s too much of a time commitment anyway.”

Mei raised an eyebrow as she glanced questioningly at Life and Death.

“Noir Arquette’s missing and we’re trying to find her with her daughter’s help. Death also had the genius idea of making Lucy the youngest reaper ever recruited,” Life said with a skeptical glare in her color-shifting eyes. Death only smiled smugly and cleared his throat.

“Actually, Life darling, you should know that Lucy just performed her first reaping a few moments ago. And she did so within seconds.”

Mei pushed her rectangular glasses further up her nose,“within seconds, for the first time? Huh, little miss girlscout has a bit of a gift for the necromantic arts.”

Lucy did a little twirl, “necromantic arts, gosh that almost cooler better than soul-reaping, I think that’s what I might call it sometimes”.

Death looked back at Mai, “we were about to take her to the Location Center to find Noir, would you mind assisting, Miss Katayama?”

Mei nodded and continued around the corner to a large set of double doors. Above the doorframe there was a golden plaque.

The Location Center

Lucy’s eyes widened as she entered the circular room. There were quite a few small, silvery black stones placed along the walls, each stone had engravings on it’s edges, just like the engravings on the scythes. In the center there appeared to be a raised pool filled with a luminous substance resembling mercury.

Lucy smiled in awe, “wow, what’s that shiny stuff? Can I touch it?”

“Do you want your hand singed off?” Death asked grimly.

“I can’t tell if that was a warning or a threat but still want to touch it.”

“Uh, Girl Scout, I would strongly advise against that. It’s the torilnkal, when an immortals’ DNA comes in contact with it it can help locate them or their recent reaping. Yet it’s pretty deadly for anyone other than Life or Death to touch it” Mei explained.

“I said I wanted to, not that I was going to. It just looks so pretty.”

Mei shook her head, “as insane and fun as your little reaper seems, I’ve gotta get back to Tokyo, there’s this other kid and a lot of murder, and then this rubber duck,” she explained as if that made perfect sense.

“Anyway see you later guys,” she then twirled her scythe and disappeared.

“I like her. Anyway what about the deadly silver stuff?”

Life laughed as she ran a smooth brown hand along the wall’s silvery black stones, “I have a kindler who touched the torilnkal, she got a really high quality prosthetic foot though.”

“A foot?”

“Somehow she thought that if she used her toe to touch it t wouldn’t be as deadly...to be fair she was a bit drunk when she did it though. Moral of the story; don’t be an idiot and get drunk while standing next to torilnkal.”

Lucy joined Life by the wall stones, “What are these?”

“There’s a stone for each reaper, I’ll get you one too soon enough, now go up to the torilnkal.”

“I thought you said my hand would burn off?”

“Don’t touch it, just approach it, gosh Lucy pay attention.”

Lucy shrugged and skipped towards the silvery pool. As she grew closer it smelled like paper and pencil lead, with a hint of Cedarwood. Lucy drew close enough for the glimmering light of the torilnkal reflected on her face.

“Now what?”

Death reached for her hand and before Lucy could react he grazed it with the blade of his scythe. Lucy gasped and sprung back, clutching her bleeding hand. Death calmly dipped the edge of his scythe in the torilnkal, letting Lucy’s blood drip into the shimmering liquid in a grimly beautiful manner.

“You just cut me you old skeleton bastard!”

Death recoiled a little at these words as Life stifled a giggle “That’s a bit of a harsh thing to say, but yes I’m very sorry, I can get you a bandage and fix it up?” “No you just cut me! You literally just sliced my hand open, what the hell man?”

“Things like this hurt less when they’re unexpected. I didn’t want to hurt you more than necessary”

“Yes but it still hurts. Because I’m bleeding. And you just cut me. I mean you could’ve just asked me for a blood sample. Bastard…”

Death waved his hand and a spool of bandages appeared, he looked at Lucy reproachfully “I can bind it, and Life can heal the cut.”

Lucy cautiously held out her bleeding right hand.

At least it’s not my dominant hand…

Lucy pouted and scowled as Death wrapped a bandage around her hand, “I’m not trusting you. You had gained some Lucy Trust Points earlier but you just lost them.”

“Once again, I’m sorry, and that hurts Lucy, it really does.”

“Not as much as my damn hand.”

“But you have something called ‘Lucy Trust Points’? That’s speaking in the third pers-”

“My hand. Is still. Bleeding.”

Death hung his head as he finished up the bandage and Life stepped forward to grasp her bandaged hand. Life’s own hands started glowing as a sharp pain shot up Lucy’s arm. Lucy cried out when the pain suddenly stopped as soon as it had started.

“Healing sometimes hurts kiddo, you have to used to it,” she said with a wicked little smirk. Lucy took a mental not to take away a few Lucy Trust Points for Life later.

“Look, the torilnkal’s taking effect,”

Lucy whirled around as her gaze fixed on the silver and red pool, which was now swirling around and shaping itself into a human figure, a woman’s figure, who appeared to be swinging a scythe before walking away.

“Noir,” Life breathed as Death stared at the pool, transfixed despite being familiar with the torilnkal’s properties. Another figure appeared in the blood. It was twice as tall as the female figure and was sickly distorted, with multiple, long, twisted limbs. It wasn’t the only one, all they needed to do was approach the female figure and she seemed to writhe in pain. A little whine filled the air as it increased into a violent scream.

Lucy gasped as her green eyes widened in fear, Mom?! The scream was laced with chokes and sobs. With every second, Lucy began to feel her mother’s agony stronger and stronger. A tear slipped down Lucy’s face as she watched her mother’s silhouette writhe in pain.

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Death yelled as the image in the torilnkal disappeared. Lucy’s breath hitched and she stepped back. Death swallowed, “I’m so sorry Lucy, you shouldn’t have seen that. But she’s alive, I could sense from the torilnkal that they brought her to some...other realm, like another layer of reality, underneath Paris.”

“I suppose they wanted to kill her in her birthplace…” Life breathed bitterly.

Death’s expression hardened as his dark eyes seemed to look more like voids.

“Was that. Really. Necessary, Life? You couldn’t just acknowledge the situation without saying anything, could you?”

“I’m sorry but it’s the truth. These things aren’t the reapers you used to train, these are hollow monsters that by the looks of it, are planning to add a bit of irony to your fvorite Employee of the Month’s death. I’m sorry you have to hear this, especially you Lucy, but that’s how it’s going to be unless we pick up our staffs and scythes to save her.”

Lucy blinked away her tears and nodded in understanding before looking at Death. For a second it looked as if he was about to lash out and cause some sort of mass genocide, but instead he sighed.

“You’re right...you’re right again Life. We just have to carry on.” Lucy’s shoulders relaxed as exhaled she backed away from the torilnkal. She hadn’t realized that she had been holding her breath. “So...now what? My- my Mom’s being tortured in Paris. Are we gonna go there and ‘carry on’ as you put it?”

Death tilted his head as he saw Lucy forced a determined fire in her eyes, “so far you haven’t ceased to amaze me Miss Mourn, I searched Paris for her yesterday but as I said I’m starting to believe that they opened up another realm.”

“Another realm...like an alternate universe or something?”

“Not quite,” Life answered before Death could open his mouth.

“It’s more like, a little disposable pocket based on reality where you can do whatever the hell you want, we’re in another realm right now, Death and I created our homes in alternate universes, you know because we wouldn’t want anyone knocking on Death’s door,” she said with a sly grin when she got to the pun. Lucy smiled, and she felt her spirits lift a little.

“The puns between the two of you are going to become unbearable,” Death murmured, “but yes, that’s an adequate description. Noir’s in a realm of Paris, we just have to figure out where.”

“Then let’s go to Paris and look for a monster realm.”

“Now that you say it like that it sounds stupid.”

Life rolled her eyes at Lucy and Death as she began to glow brightly for a second, When her glowing faded- wait. Was it his glow now? Life appeared to have morphed into a handsome, fair haired man in his late teens.

“Dress up time guys, I’ll play a college student who’s lost while looking for their campus and looking around France like an idiot.” he said with a French accent.

It seemed as if Death couldn’t help but grin and was immediately cloaked in shadows for a second, when they lifted a young girl not much older than Lucy stood there. As Lucy half expected, Death was rocking a bit of a gothic look with his- her dark hair and makeup. Lucy began to feel uncomfortable by how beautiful Death looked, especially in comparison to herself. “So...do you guys even have genders, if you’re, y’know, universal entities and stuff?”

The pair glanced at eachother and Life shrugged. “We’re whatever we want, really. Does it really matter considering how beautiful we are in every form?” Life asked with a sarcastically innocent bat of his eyes as Death scoffed.

Death was about to swing her scythe, which was now nearly taller than she was, when she stopped and looked at Life.

“What if I’m you’re clueless American cousin who’s confused in a foreign land?”

“Good idea, we’ll do it like that time in Constantinople.”

“I actually had an okay feeling about this plan until you compared it to the Constantinople Incident of 1792.” she said before she swung her scythe into the ground and everything erupted into shadows.

Chapter Five

“So this is Paris? It’s very...Parisian, isn’t it?”

Lucy asked as she attempted to pry her eyes away from the eiffel tower in one direction and the Notre Dame Cathedral in another. They seemed to have shown up on the patio of a French cafe’, luckily the locals and tourists didn’t seem to give them a second thought. Life raised an eyebrow at Lucy’s question as he leaned up against a wrought iron fence,“you know what Lucy, no, it’s Egypt, you can tell because of the Eiffel Tower right over there.”

“Keep an eye on your saltiness, buddy; you might turn into Death, anyway how are we finding this realm-portal thingamajig?”

“Normally Death and I can just teleport, but since we were unaware of the realm before now, we’ll have to find the right frequency.”

“Frequency?”

“We’ll have to sense it using our magic, like Death is doing right now, yet she kinda looks stupid while doing it,” he explained while gesturing over to Death, who was standing a few yards away and lowly waving her fingers by her sides as she stared off blankly into the distance. Despite the her odd movements, Death didn’t really look stupid with her long black curls billowing in the wind. Lucy looked back at Life, who’s bright gold eyes assumed a similar distant look as he scanned his surroundings. Lucy tried to see if she felt anything different, or otherworldly-realm-portalish, but all she noticed was a man approaching the trio with a confused look on his face.

“Do you kids need any help?” he asked. The man spoke french, and strangely enough, Lucy could easily interpret it. She recalled needing Death’s help to understand other languages before, but now that she had performed her first reaping, she must have been just as bilingual.

“Um...well you see sir, um..”

Am I speaking french? Wait, I am speaking french. Gosh that sounds nice…Wait a second-

Lucy nudged Life, who seemed a tad distracted in finding the portal frequency. He looked over. “Oh forgive me monsieur, My cousins and I have never been to the Citiy of Love before, and we’re simply taking in the sights,” he casually replied in french as he tousled his thick glossy hair. The man raised an eyebrow as he looked between Life, Death and Lucy. The entities certainly could’ve picked forms that looked a little more like Lucy, for between the freckled green eyed girl, the olive skinned dark haired girl, and the fair skinned and haired teen didn’t seem to have much of a resemblance. Fortunately, with Life’s charisma, the man walked away with a shrug, wishing the trio a safe journey. “Works every time”, Life chuckled with the same wicked snicker he had in his previous, feminine form.

Death snapped out of her trance, “I’m sorry did I miss something?”

“Just the stupid look on your pretty little face,”

“You know what Life? Look who’s talking,” she snapped through the mild blushing on her cheeks.

Lucy rolled her eyes and stopped as she felt a cold buzz from her scythe sling. She reached back into the leather container and brought out her scythe, so cool and comforting in her hand. The scythe began to pull at Lucy, drawing her away from the cafe’ patio and towards the Notre Dame Cathedral in the distance...

“Lucy wait!” Death said, placing a hand on Lucy’s shoulder after catching up with her. “I felt the pull too, it’s a dead person,”

“Well I kinda gathered that by the fact that I felt it from a scythe meant for reaping the souls of the dead,” Lucy chirped.

“Yes but it’s a trap.”

“Someone died specifically to trap me?” Lucy asked skeptically.

Death pulled her closer with a grim look in her jet black eyes. “That death is just by the Notre Dame, according to Life, that’s where Noir was born. Now isn’t it curious, that as we search for mother, we are distracted by a murder in that exact same spot?”

Lucy gasped as her blood ran cold, she gulped.

“Is it her?”

“No. But it seems as if they’re luring us.”

“So do we follow them and find my Mom or do we find an alternative?”

Death shapeshifted back into his suited form and straightened his tie, greatly disturbing Lucy who was watching a pretty teen transform into a grown man in a flash of shadow. Death kept his hand on Lucy’s shoulder and began to lead her back to the cafe’.

“Wait where are you taking me? Aren’t I gonna help my Mom? Isn’t that why you’ve been keeping me with you guys this whole time? To find her?”

“I needed your help in finding her, but not saving her, you are going to stay here with Life while I go negotiate.”

Before Lucy could respond she heard someone clear their voice. She turned around to see Life standing not a foot away from them, back in her female form with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Excuse me, Death but I’m not going to be babysitting Lucy while you go storming off into some unknown realm. I’m scarier than you anyway.”

“That’s a fair point.”

Life rolled her eyes. “You know how realms can be anyway, let alone one ruled by monstrous psychopaths.”

“Well what now? We let Lucy strut right in with us, maybe they’ll have mercy on her if she sells them some Girl Scout Cookies-”

“Once again...I’m not in Girl Scouts,” Lucy protested, “and I really want to-”

“No” Death snapped. Life looked down at Lucy and made what looked like an attempt at a sympathetic smile, “Lucy, you literally became a reaper yesterday. Death’s not even stupid enough to let you in this.”

“Thanks Life”. Death scoffed.

“Anyway, I think you can see our point,” Life reasoned.

Lucy could feel her eyes tearing up. Life gave a submissive sigh while Death was struck with a panicked expression as he saw the young girl try not to cry.

“Don’t fret dearie, I have a plan.”

“Is it as good as the ‘Hey-let’s-make-this-kid-a-reaper-and-tell-her=she-can-help-us save-her-mom’ plan?” Life interrupted.

“I think I have a babysitter for her.”

Lucy clenched her fists and began to argue, “NO YOU CAN’T DO THIS-” but before she could finish, Death teleported her with a twirl of his scythe.

When the shadows cleared, Lucy’s scream rang out as she fell onto the cold hard ground. Wherever she was, it looked as if it was the middle of the night. She got up on her knees and looked up, there were a lot lit up signs (which Lucy could now read as Japanese) advertising for bars and restaurants. Great, just dump lil’ old me into some dark alley in a foreign country so that I’m confused and alone, that’s way safer guys! She thought while rising to her feet.

“Y’KNOW WHAT? THAT’S IT. NO MORE ‘LUCY TRUST POINTS’ FOR YOU TWO! ASSHATS!”

She shouted as she stomped her feet on the ground. But she wasn’t alone.

“What do you think you’re doing, screaming around at this time of night, kid?” barked the gruff voice of a nearby local, who’s stumbling walk suggested he was drunk.

“The dead man’s right about one thing, you better watch your language, Girl Scout.”

Mei Katayama stood waiting by a motorcycle at the end of the alley, twirling her scythe in her hand.

The man scowled, “what did you just call me?”

“A dead man. Don’t ask me how but I’m especially good at sensing these sort of things.”

“You’re crazy, all crazy,” he proceeded to mutter about craziness as he walked out of the alley and towards the busy street.

Mei scoffed as she stomped towards Lucy, “I just got a text from Death..I guess that makes me your babysitter...as if I haven’t had enough to deal with. I mean I know he’s saving Noir but can’t someone else watch you...? I just hope this isn’t like the Constantinople Incident.”

“Did you just let that drunk man walk into the street?”

“Why would I not? Even if I told him not to, we can’t change fate; he would die at the same time, even if not the same exact death.”

“Huh,” Lucy mused. Another thing Death probably should have told me before dropping me off in Japan. She looked up at the night sky.

“What time is it?”

“4:00 am, I’m ending my work shift after this guy,”

“Long day?

“Child, you don’t even know. Long story short I’ve officially decided to never have kids-”

Screeeeech.

Lucy heard the tires from the street.

Mei strode to the side of the road, where a ghostly man stood, dumbfounded.

“You were right. I’m dead.”

“Uh huh, that’s what it looks like,” Mei said as she turned to Lucy.

“Go ahead, work your magic. I wanna see if Death was right about your skill.”

Lucy swallowed and stepped forward, then stopped.

“Do you have that handbook?”

“What?”

“There was a handbook with the judgment questions in there..?”

“Oh yeah I haven’t looked at that thing in at least a decade,” she laughed as she pulled a leather bound booklet from the bottom of her scythe sling and tossed it to Lucy. After fumbling the booklet and barely grabbing it before it fell, Lucy flipped to the page with the questions.

“Okay Mister I’ma ask you these questions, and if you’re an alright person and you answer them right then you go to an afterlife of your choosing.”

The ghostly man looked down with a puzzled look on his face, “but I’m an atheist.”

“Oh, sucks to be you then...yeah I have no idea what’s about to happen-”

Mei cleared her throat loudly,

“-but I have confidence. So, how’d you die?”

The ghost man looked at his mangled body on the street, saying nothing.

Lucy winced, “okay yeah I get your point...are you just of h- I mean, were you a good person?”

The ghost man scratched his translucent hair, “I had a drinking problem, dying seems to have sobered me up though...I guess I’m not that bad when I’m sober... I’m a jerk though.”

Lucy’s scythe symbols glowed grey. Lucy tilted her head and looked to Mei for directions.

“Just do the thing, the symbols don’t have much of an effect on the actual job.”

Despite confused looks from the ghost, Lucy focused and held out her scythe like before, a stream blasted out and formed an archway.

“It was nice meeting you, good luck!” Lucy chirped as the man drifted into the portal.

Mei stared in disbelief.

“You not only just performed a reaping suitable for at least a year-long member, but you freaking wished him luck as he got taken into the gateway of death.”

“Well I don’t think I gave a very good description and I figured it would be nice to make up for it by wishing him luck,” Lucy replied with a shrug.

Mei smirked and tilted her head, “I’m starting to like you, you’re a really nice kid, creepy as hell...but nice.”

“I get that a lot,” Lucy said with a grin as Mei started walking towards her motorcycle.

Lucy froze in her steps, “can I ride it?”

Mei turned around, “no, you’re going to run behind my bike as fast as you can until we get to my house.”

“Couldn’t we teleport there?”

Mei shrugged, “Yeah, but Suzy is a smoother, not-as-nausea-inducing ride.”

“Suzy?”

“The name of my Suzuki bike.”

Mei hopped on her bike and turned on the engine, then gave Lucy an expectant glare. She cautiously pulled herself onto the bike, sitting awkwardly behind Mei.

“What? Do you wanna end up like our friend on the street? Hold on, Girlscout.”

Lucy gripped her arms tighter around Meri’s waist, close enough to smell her leather jacket and for Mei’s dark brown ponytail to whip Lucy’s face. Suddenly they took off, and as Lucy suspected, the ride was far more pleasant than a teleportation.

“Whoohoo!” she accidentally cried into Mei’s ear. Lucy muttered an apology as Mei clenched her teeth and the bike wavered dangerously. Yet the apology was swept away by the wind rushing in her ears as Lucy stuffed her hat in her coat pocket and let her hair whip around her head. Through the brown locks over her eyes she could see the bright lights and signs of Tokyo. She continued in this daze of bewilderment until Suzy slowed to a stop at a modern, narrow house that looked a little more like a high end apartment.

Mei took off her helmet and adjusted her glasses, “So, this is the place. I didn’t want to watch any more damn kids today but it seems like a matter of life and death-err, Life and Death...whatever. Until I get more details about the ‘shadows’ Death gave a brief description of, I’m keeping an eye on you guys.”

Lucy’s knees wobbled as she climbed off the bike. “What do you mean ‘any more kids’, and what am I gonna do about my Dad? What will I do, text him that I’m hanging out with some strangers on the other side of the world?”

Mei grinned as she fumbled with a keychain. “You’re a curious little Girl Scout aren’t you? Heh, at least you’re asking the right questions...there’s this other girl, around your age. Whatever shadows Death’s talking about, she’s been connected to them too, I’ve been running around with this kid all day, I know reapers aren’t supposed to get too involved with mortal business but I knew there was something more than that.”

“I thought you were the one mocking Death for recruiting me.”

“For your information, I’m not recruiting Akiro, I just want to keep the kid safe. And as for your dad, just tell him you’re sleeping over at a friend’s house, or that you’ve been kidnapped, whatever you kids do these days.”

“Yeah, yeah, sleepover or something, he’ll think I’m just in a weird teen rebellious phase and stay out of it…anyway tell me more about this Akiro kid you’ve been babysitting,” she said while walking into Mei’s house. The interior was as modern as the outside, but with a few traditional twists such as the shoji panels and paper lanterns that hung over the living room that gave the room a warmer feel.

“Shoes off.” Mei demanded, stepping out of her sneakers in the entryway of the house. Lucy nodded and slid off her own boots, dusting off the little pink bows on the ankles as she did so.

The space was chillingly silent, and it was only broken with Mei’s sigh as she slumped into a nearby chair. “C’mon sit down, I’ll make some tea or open up some snacks in a sec. As for Akiro, I think her father has something to do with these shadowy beings, apparently she was staying at his house the other day when the shadows started surrounding her and her sister. I was reaping that group of guys who shot each other all at once when I saw them running down the street. I asked them what was wrong, I wouldn’t have believed them if I didn’t see the fear in their eyes. The younger one couldn’t have been much older than five, no five year old should look that afraid. So I told them to stay put while I investigated, their dad was lying on the floor, cut and bruised. Apparently he’s in some sort of coma now. I called 911 and took them to their mother’s house. But both of them kept ranting about these ‘tall shadows’ trying to grab them, especially the little girl, Natsumi. I tried to calm them down but Akiro was persistent and determined to find answers. She’s clever, that one. Later in the day she went back to her dad’s place to pick up a few of her and her sisters’ things, the shadows appeared again. I was watching this time, I wanted to keep an eye on the kid, but when those things reached out for her...something happened, they recoiled back from her, and by the time I was ready to fight they just faded away. I mean Akiro is almost as creepy as you but not enough to prevent an attack like that. So, I’ll keep an eye on her for the next few days while she stays with her mother...you could see why I didn’t want to tell Death or Life about this,” she explained. Lucy nodded,but at the mention of their names her thoughts immediately strayed back to whatever Life and Death were doing at the Notre Dame.

Are they helping Mom? Is Mom hurt? Are they hurt? Wait- can Death die? Can Life die? Is everyone dead? Wait nononononono...Shut up conscience, SHUT UP.

She shuddered and tried to focus back onto the information she had just processed from Mei, wondering what the beings wanted from Akiro and how she was able to prevent them, unlike Lucy had in her nightmare.

“Well, anyway, that’s what I was did today and I think that’s enough disturbing topics for today, I’ll get some food made, I guess I’m making two servings now...I have some mangas in the shelf over there, a few of them are in english so knock yourself out”.

Lucy pulled out her phone, the timezones had changed on the clock and it was now 4:31 am, Japan time, Lucy was too lazy to calculate whatever that was back in America, but she wasn’t that tired, so she figured it was in the afternoon. Considering what Mei said about her manga, she walked towards the bookcase by the t.v.

“Sweet mother of manga…” she murmured, the shelves were almost entirely full of various mangas.

“Don’t judge me, Girlscout, mangas are actually common reading material her in Japan,” Mei called over from her kitchen.

“I’m not judging I’m admiring, and no one gives you weird looks or asks why you’re reading comic books here either?” “Pretty much,” she answered, followed by a series of clanging pots and pans.

Lucy let herself smile as she found one written in english and engrossed herself in it until Mei had prepared lunch, or dinner, whatever it was. For a brief while, Lucy wasn’t worried over her family or immortal friends or long shadowy beings coming to strangle her, just whether the demon hybrid princess was going to go on the quest the prophecy foretold.

“Food’s ready,” Mei announced. Lucy’s stomach growled in an oddly lod manner as Lucy put down the manga and skipped over to the low, wooden table Mei was waiting at. Lucy didn’t quite recognize some of the foods, but she could see that the meal included fish and rice. Lucy sat down on one of the low chairs across from Mei and sat there in silence.

“Ugh you’re the ideal awkward houseguest. Go ahead and start eating I didn’t make this food for nothing,” Mei said with a smile. Lucy dug into her food with her chopsticks, and although Lucy knew how to use them, bits of rice fell back on her ate as she attempted to eat them and it took Lucy longer than she would have liked to figure out must how to grab certain things with them. She assumed it looked pretty pathetic judging by how Mei was barely hiding a Life-like smirk.

“This is really good, I honestly don’t know half of what I’m eating right now but it’s still great.”

Mei looked down at her food proudly, “You should try Death’s cooking, I’m telling you Death’s like a freaking master chef, they’ve had like centuries of practice but there’s still some serious talent there.”

Lucy raised an eyebrow, “Death can cook?”

“Oh yeah, it’s one of the things that Death rubs in Life’s face all the time considering that Life may or may not have started the Great Fire of London over some burnt scones, it’s never really been proven but I’ve heard that it’s a possibility. People have like, cried after eating Life and Death’s cookies, for two very different reasons and two very different cookies.”

“Huh,” Lucy said as she took a bite of fish.

#fantasy story #sarcasm #grim reaper #life #lol

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chimeperson23-blog · 5 years

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8 Red Flags I Know To Watch Out For After Being A Victim Of Financial Abuse

I’m in my thirties, and the first time I heard the term “financial abuse” was a little less than two years ago. After being divorced for a few years and working my way back up from financial rock bottom, it dawned on me that I’d never even considered what had happened to me as abuse — but it really was. I was familiar with the other forms of abuse that are often talked about, and I was taken advantage of and emotionally abused in my former relationship, for sure. But losing control of my money, my financial decisions, and my credit affected my life with long-lasting effects.

As this article from Bustle claims:

Women are far more likely to experience financial abuse than physical abuse by their partners. The organization Purple Purse explains that 99 percent of domestic abuse situations (which can happen in all kinds of relationships, including family relationships or friendships) are believed to involve financial control and coercion.

Looking back, I wish I had been more aware of the little red flags that started showing up in alarming displays — and I wish I’d known of others who had come forward with their stories so I would have known better.

I was only 22 years old when I started dating my ex-husband, Rob*. I knew him for a year or so before I began dating him, and while I had heard things through our group of friends, I was sure none of it was true once we began dating. Rob had a good job, a nice apartment, and was “adulting” much better than any of the rest of my friends at that time. He seemed caring and attentive, and I got caught up in our new relationship. I moved in with him within three months, which was my first big mistake.

Moving in with someone so fast (and so young) really opens your eyes quickly. I started to see little red flags — Rob was very good at getting what he wanted by bullshitting (it truly is an art) and wasn’t above lying to others or even stealing, though his definition of that was pretty loose. He would make friends with people, and I’d see them giving him “gifts” — either money or actual gifts (that he would then sell for cash). One such person was an older lady who lived in our apartment building. Despite all the ways my body was screaming at me that something seemed off, he laughed and insisted she just saw him as the grandson she never had and that she had no other family. I found out years later that she was handing him upwards of $400 a week, and he was addicted to pain pills. Rob knew how to target vulnerable people, but I didn’t realize yet that I was one of his victims.

At this point, we were a year in, and our relationship had started to lose that patina of newness. Our fights started to include insults, which quickly turned venomous — it was so unhealthy, yet had somehow become our norm. After every fight, Rob would apologize profusely; I moved out once, but he convinced me to come back by saying how much he loved me and was invested in our relationship. Around this time, he got injured at work and was on worker’s comp for nearly a year. This started a pattern in which he would get a job, then get injured again and go on disability. Rob also took control of our finances and started to nitpick how I spent money. I didn’t realize I was changing my behavior to avoid fights, but he was grooming me. Within two years, Rob proposed to me, and I found out I was pregnant a quick four months later. So much was happening that I couldn’t think straight.

I’ll admit I wasn’t sure that I should marry Rob — he had proposed somewhat unexpectedly, and I had lots of doubts. However, once I found out I was pregnant, I really committed to him and to our family. I felt stuck, like I had no other choice because he would be in my (and my son’s) life no matter what. Plus, my sister had gotten divorced and it seemed like such a dirty word at the time; she was struggling on her own. I know now that there are always other options (and being divorced is certainly not the worst of them).

Once I was pregnant, everything started to dissolve and roll downhill. It was at this time that he admitted he was addicted to pain medication; he only admitted it to me because he had stolen my insurance card from my wallet and had gotten caught by the DEA, who was investigating the doctor he was seeing. I was terrified because I thought I was going to go to jail for something I knew nothing about. The spiral of fear, shame, and embarrassment was indescribable. He convinced me to put a retainer for an attorney on my credit card so that no one would find out. The DEA were really only interested in the doctor, so the “problem” went away. Rob cried about his addiction and how much he needed my help. I vowed to stand by his side and help him through it as a team. A few months after my son was born, we married. He knew he had me now.

Rob started spending money as he wished despite many conversations where I explained there wasn’t enough. I wasn’t sure if it was on drugs or other things, but it started not to matter; my feelings fell on deaf ears. I was the only one working, the only one bringing in an income, and I was drowning trying to keep us afloat. When I had enough of it all, I would ask him to leave; Rob refused. He claimed renter’s rights and started to recite them when we would argue — I had included him on the lease, so whether he was actually paying for the apartment or not was a moot point. I wasn’t even sure if he was right, but I was too scared to push. I couldn’t do it with him, how would I do it without him, and with a new baby?

The biggest advantage he held over me was my shame and embarrassment — for being with him, his addiction, and not wanting to let on to my family what was really going on (or how unhappy I was). He had successfully isolated me from both my friends and my family, and I felt like telling them the truth was out of the question. When we would fight, he would grab my wallet and my credit cards and threaten to go “spend my money” — and what could I do then? When I would try to grab them back, he’d wave his arm up in the air and scream for me to “stop hitting him” in hopes our neighbors would hear. He had no limits — he excelled at pushing buttons, and in turn, perfected reacting calmly to make me even more irate (and question if I was the problem, like he would say I was, as he gaslighted me). He simply used my fear of admitting failure to keep ruining my life because he knew I was too afraid to leave. We were evicted from our apartment for failure to pay, and on my first Mother’s Day, I was busy unpacking boxes in my new home — my in-laws’ house. I watched as everything I had go to ruin — my savings, my credit score, and most of all, my pride.

My son was 4 months old when Rob announced he was going to rehab — he left a day later, and I was left figuring out how to pay for his needs there (my insurance paid for his stay, but I was responsible otherwise), rearranging my work schedule without letting on what was really happening at home (again, the shame), and most of all, taking care of my 4-month-old and simultaneously taking care of myself. At this time, piles of bills began to come in the mail — bills I didn’t recognize. It was then that I realized he had opened accounts in my name — even my engagement ring was bought in my name. I fell into a deep depression.

I felt betrayed, but mostly very stupid. Even recalling this, I’m not sure how I managed to look the other way so many times; sometimes it is more difficult to admit there’s something wrong than to pretend there isn’t a problem and brush it off. Denial is a powerful force. I also felt very hopeless — in fact, I wasn’t able to leave him. I was still too embarrassed to admit the truth to my family, and not sure how I would afford childcare on my own. People say “just leave,” but it’s not that simple with a young child. We were now living in an apartment I rented from a family member, so he again had it over my head — he refused to leave “his” apartment. He used me for a little bit longer until he met another woman; it wasn’t until he decided to leave me two years later that I was able to start rebuilding my life. I had to file bankruptcy and work slowly to get back to where I was, but there is hope — I have a better life today than I did then, and I am solely providing for my son.

From enduring all of this, here are the signs of financial abuse I now know to watch out for:

1. Your partner acts in ways that sabotage your career or your job. 2. Money is missing from your account(s). 3. Your partner pressures you to make certain financial choices, or sign documents you don’t want to sign. 4. Your partner scrutinizes and criticizes your spending, even while they spend freely (and carelessly). 5. Your partner expects you to bail them out of sticky situations. 6. They convince you to put everything in your name (apartment, house, car, etc.) because you have better credit (until they ruin it). 7. Your partner handles the mail and you never see what is coming in. 8. Your partner refuses to work; or alternately, refuses to let you work, holding control over you/the money.

I now know that I should have confided in my friends and family the minute something was off; keeping up a facade didn’t help anyone, and people that love you know when you’re unhappy anyway. I could have saved myself years of struggling if I had recognized the signs and spoken up. Keep an eye out for these signs of financial abuse to protect yourself — and your bank account.

*name has been changed

Karen works in the beauty industry by day and is a freelance writer by night. She loves goofing off with her son, good music, and a full glass of rosé.

Image via Unsplash

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Source: https://thefinancialdiet.com/8-red-flags-i-know-to-watch-out-for-after-being-a-victim-of-financial-abuse/

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mreugenehalsey · 6 years

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Disease & Deforestation: The Cost of Coffee in Madagascar

In Madagascar, coffee is the fuel that powers everyone through their day – but it comes at a cost.

This island, which lies off the Mozambique coast, is one of the poorest countries in the world, despite being rich in biodiversity. The majority of people here live in poverty and their lifestyle is interwoven with the country’s coffee culture. So, too, is their health.

Among the lush greenery and exotic animals, I discovered a disturbing backstory to Madagascar’s coffee industry. Read on to discover the true cost of this nation’s love of coffee.

You may also like The Daily Life of Madagascar’s Coffee Vendors

For young and old, rich and poor, coffee is a national pastime. Credit: Nicole Motteux

The Dangerous Life of a Coffee Vendor

Coffee is a major agricultural crop and source of income for thousands of people in Madagascar. From bean to bag, the coffee industry is an important employer each step of the way. This is because coffee is an ever-present part of life in Madagascar. About 80% of the total production of coffee is consumed within the country. Robusta accounts for the vast bulk of current output.

Every stage of coffee production and sale in Madagascar is arduous and poorly paid. But it is the small-scale coffee vendors who face the most difficulties and dangers.

During my travels, I met numerous coffee vendors who spend their days crouching over small fires to roast and prepare coffee. The constant exposure to smoke leads to the deep penetration of small particulate matter, carbon monoxide, and other harmful carcinogens into their lungs.

In their homes and workplaces down narrow alleys, and in improvised street cafés, I learned about traditional Malagasy coffee.

Mrs Moratsara roasts beans in a cloud of smoke. Credit: Nicole Motteux

Coffee roasters like Mrs Nirina Moratsara spend most of their day beside a wood fire or charcoal stove. “From sunrise to sunset, I roast coffee, heat coffee, and I cook,” she says.

Her eyes are red and teary as she roasts a pot of green beans over an open wood fire. As one of thousands of street coffee vendors in a competitive marketplace, she knows that getting the perfect roast is vital to making enough money to survive.

“The fire’s heat affects the flavour,” Nirina explains. She prevents the outside of the bean roasting more quickly than the inside by carefully stirring and lifting the pan from the coals. She blinks and waves aside the thick smoke.

Beside Nirina is her six-year-old daughter, Nora, who rubs her eyes constantly. Only two of Nirina’s six children are in school. The others help with the coffee business.

Learn more in Zimbabwean Coffee: Rising from the Ashes

Many young Malagasy girls are withdrawn from school to work in family businesses. Credit: Nicole Motteux

One of The Poorest Countries in The World

Madagascar has long struggled with poor governance, most recently resulting from a violent uprising in 2009. Since then, successive failed governments have contributed to economic decline and destruction of natural resources.

The United Nations’ Human Development Index rated Madagascar an extremely low 161 out of 189 countries in 2017. This puts the nation among the poorest countries in the world. Almost 80% of the population lives on less than US $1.90 per day, including hundreds of thousands of street coffee vendors.

Half of Madagascar’s children under five suffer from stunted growth from poor nutrition. Like Nirina’s children, many are unschooled.

There’s no shortage of hot coffee in Madagascar. Credit: Nicole Motteux

It is this poverty that forces people to live off the land. According to the World Bank, the majority of Madagascar’s 24.8 million people gather wood from forests for their cooking and heating fuel. Most of the rest use charcoal or buy wood.

Only 2% of the population has access to clean fuel and stoves and ovens for cooking. Only 16% of households have access to electricity. This dependence on wood and charcoal seriously impacts quality of life and degrades the environment.

You may also like This Is How Much It Costs to Produce Coffee Across Latin America

Collecting and preparing firewood is an everyday task. Credit: Nicole Motteux

The impact of 99% of households using charcoal and wood is huge. More than 60% of rural households in Madagascar cook indoors. This means that the majority of kitchens have unhealthy concentrations of air pollution.

Small particulate matter in the smoke penetrates deep into the body, triggering chronic diseases such as asthma, heart attacks, bronchitis, and other respiratory problems. Household air pollution is considered the third-biggest cause of ill health in Madagascar, behind malnutrition and poor sanitation.

Coffee roasters like Nirina spend most of their day beside a wood fire or charcoal stove. Credit: Nicole Motteux

A Coffee Vendor’s Daily Risks

Each time Nirina makes coffee, she tends to a fire for an hour to boil the water. On Sundays and public holidays, she does this three times, making up to 8 litres of coffee.

She is fortunate to be able to roast her green coffee beans on a fire outside of her home. Other vendors use poorly ventilated kitchens thick with smoke. Some hunt for spots behind buildings or in narrow corridors – anywhere out of the wind.

Coffee vending provides a small income but it comes at a real cost. Nirina tells me of her headaches and chest pain. She wishes she could make enough money to send all her children to school.

Women spend hours each day cooking over open flames, exposing them to a higher risk of life-threatening health concerns. Credit: Nicole Motteux

Every afternoon, Nirina and her children collect firewood. They are lucky to have a reliable supply nearby. Others have to walk very long distances to access free firewood and the task is often dangerous. Harassment is common, and rape is not unheard of.

Women tend to be disproportionately affected by health concerns here. Cooking is usually the responsibility of women or children, and vendors are more likely to be women. As a result, they are exposed to more chronic and life-threatening diseases.

Before dawn the next day, Nirina packs up her supplies and travels to her usual roadside corner in the business district. She uses a charcoal stove to brew her coffee. “I like charcoal more than wood. The smoke is less. I can carry it, don’t have to chop charcoal, and it’s dry,” she tells me.

“My charcoal cooker broke. I now use my neighbour’s one. It is very heavy and fragile. Every day I have to collect the cooker and give it back. I cannot afford to buy a new one. It is 16,000 Ariary [about US $5]. I make 20,000 Ariary gross income each day and from that I have to buy green bean coffee and ingredients for sale tomorrow as well as food for my family.”

Charcoal stoves don’t generally emit as many particles as wood-fuelled stoves, but they still produce a lot of carbon monoxide.

Brewed coffee is safer than water contaminated with raw sewage and other organic wastes. Credit: Nicole Motteux

A Life-Saving Service

Malagasies start their day with a cup of coffee and a fried rice cake. It’s a daily tradition that’s affordable even for the most disadvantaged people. For some, it may be the only meal of the day.

Basic comforts are a challenge in Madagascar, thanks to limited electricity and running water. It is the fourth worst country in Africa for access to safe drinking water. For many, buying a coffee from a street vendor is the safest option.

Coffee and street food warm and fill the body and saves on fuel for cooking breakfast at home. Credit: Nicole Motteux

Other Environmental Hazards

Poverty has caused other environmental hazards in Madagascar. Traffic jams of old and poorly maintained vehicles create further air pollution. Standing at their roadside stalls, thousands of coffee vendors are exposed to toxic fumes each day.

Madagascar’s old cars are a serious contributor to poor air quality, especially in the city. Credit: Nicole Motteux

Huge amounts of the country’s original forest have been lost in recent years. Global Forest Watch reports that from 2001 to 2017, Madagascar lost 3.27 Mha of tree cover, equivalent to a 19% decrease since 2000.

Deforestation is due, in part, to replacing forests with coffee fields. The country has lost about 80% of its original forests and the primary forest now covers only about 12% of the country. The consequent erosion and soil degradation have further impacted the ecosystem.

Lavaka of Ankarokaroka’s moon-like landscape is the result of massive erosion. Credit: Nicole Motteux

In the central highlands, the evidence of soil erosion and run-off is devastating. When grassland is burned for agriculture and trees are cut for fuel, the sandy earth collapses. The result is dramatic canyons. Sediment is then washed downhill during the rainy season. The red sand carried by water blocks drinking water and irrigation canals.

Madagascar’s rivers run red due to deforestation, desertification, habitat loss, and soil erosion. Credit: Nicole Motteux

The once densely forested mountains are now bare, thanks to firewood, slash-and-burn agriculture, and overgrazing by zebu cattle. The humped cattle are central to rural life, but short-sighted farming techniques have destroyed the landscape.

Overgrazing by Zebu cattle is just one cause of serious land degradation in Madagascar. Credit: Nicole Motteux

A Cleaner, Healthier Future?

Madagascar needs clean and sustainable sources of energy to reduce the country’s long-term health and environmental concerns. Energy-efficient cookstoves are one small innovation that can make a big difference.

A woman cooks on an energy efficient cookstove. Credit: Association pour le Développement de l’Energie Solaire Suisse – Madagascar (ADES)

ADES is a Swiss energy development organisation that has been working in Madagascar for 18 years. It builds market-based partnerships with local companies to produce energy-efficient cookstoves.

The organisation works closely with governments and businesses to educate the Malagasy people about energy-efficient cooking methods, ventilation, and sustainable livelihoods. It has an ambitious goal of 60% less energy use in Madagascar by 2050. ADES has sold over 170,000 cookstoves and has a sustainable, local production line in place.

Other organisations and initiatives are encouraging energy efficiency. The government has launched a rural electrification plan that includes implementation of solar panels. It aims to double the rate of Madagascar’s rural electrification by 2020.

Clean energy is slowly arriving in rural Madagascar. Credit: Nicole Motteux

The future health of Madagascar’s small-scale coffee industry and its wider population is uncertain. Indoor and outdoor pollution inhibit economic growth and exacerbate poverty. Yet, I left Madagascar feeling some hope for a cleaner coffee future. I left Nirina with a clean cookstove of her own, knowing that this small gesture would have a huge benefit to her financial and physical health.

Enjoyed this? Check out Could Zimbabwean Coffee Once Again Be On Specialty Menus?

Written by Nicole Motteux with input by Lilani Goonesena and image editing by Angie Lázaro. With thanks to interpreter and guide Mr Harry Rakotosalam. Feature image: Nicole Motteux

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ramialkarmi · 6 years

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These two college buddies quit their jobs on the same day, and eleven years later they’ve raised $100 million to rule the ‘sneakerhead’ market

Cofounders Eddy Lu and Daishin Sugano's story doesn't start with the sneaker app GOAT.

The two developed thick skin from failed venture after failed venture before launching the online sneaker marketplace in 2015.

Now the company has a fresh $60 million in funding with traction and popularity to match.

Eddy Lu and Daishin Sugano quit their boring corporate jobs on the same day eleven years ago.

The two college friends had no idea they would eventually run a super-buzzy online sneaker marketplace called GOAT that has scooped up nearly $100 million in funding and has 7 million fervent users. Sneakers were the furthest thing from their minds. And it would be many years, and many failed business ventures, before the duo found the right formula by tapping into the passionate ranks of sneakerheads.

At the time, the only thing the two budding entrepreneurs knew was that they didn't want their corporate lives and they had a hunch that the recently released iPhone would provide an important platform for new types of businesses.

"We were just like, ‘Let’s do a business together,'" Lu tells Business Insider.

The multiyear journey took Lu and Sugano to different cities and different industries, not to mention through the depths of the financial downturn. And the events that led them to create GOAT is a case study in the perseverance, passion and simple chance that often form the basis of a startup success story.

"In our wildest dreams we never thought this would really happen," says Sugano, 37, shortly after GOAT announced the acquisition of Flight Club, an iconic sneaker store that will give the startup its first retail presence.

Certified tea masters and cream puffs

Lu and Sugano, who both grew up in LA, each had contacts in China. So they first gave the Import/Export business a try. They launched a golf apparel company, during which time Lu took sewing classes to hone his seamster skills. They ran an online tea business and to this day can call themselves certified tea masters as a result of the endeavor. They built countless 99 cent gaming apps for iPhone users. Nothing stuck.

One day the two wandered into a Beard Papa's restaurant in LA, and, blown away by the flaky, custard-filled cream puffs in their hands, decided to franchise the Japanese chain for some "passive income" while they worked on their projects. But it was 2008, the financial crisis was in full swing and, because of the downturn, they couldn't hire managers.

“Going through 2008 as a business owner you definitely earn your stripes," said Lu.

Lu and Sugano's cream puff days were painful, but they taught the entrepreneurs fiscal responsibility and resilience. And it provided the spark for their next adventure.

Who wants to eat with strangers?

In 2010 Lu and Sugano moved to Chicago with the intent of expanding upon Beard Papa's presence in the Windy City. Once there, they discovered how difficult it can be to meet people in a new city.

So they founded GrubWithUs, a dining app that arranges meals between strangers. The concept was innovative: reserve a seat at a participating restaurant for a meal that piques the user’s interest. When four people reserve a spot for the same meal at the same table, the meeting is set, and a handful of lonely strangers could socialize with their peers over dinner.

The startup got funding from Y Combinator, and the two moved back to California in 2011 to run GrubWithUs from there. But the app never became very popular. Users either had too many dietary restrictions for the meals listed in the app, didn't like the menu, thought the restaurant was too far away, or were too skittish about having dinner with unfamiliar faces. GrubWithUs gradually fizzled out over the next few years.

Everything changed thanks to a pair of fake Air Jordans.

Sugano has been a bona fide sneaker enthusiast and basketball player since at least ten years old when his dad bought him his first pair of Air Jordan 5 Grapes. In 2013, the shoe was re-released 23 years after its debut (Michael Jordan’s jersey number was 23).

When he saw the Grapes were made available once again, he acted fast.

“Nostalgia hit me, I saw the photos: I had to have the shoe again,” Sugano recalls. So he turned to eBay, which was then the largest sneaker marketplace. He mined the site for the shoe, ordered it, and when it showed up on his doorstep, he realized it was a fake.

When he complained to Lu about how the online sneaker market had no authentication process, Lu asked him if there was room in the industry for a brand devoted to monitoring fraudulence between sellers and buyers.

“I did my due diligence and came up with nobody,” said Sugano. “From that point on, we decided that this is something we could solve.”

They launched GOAT shortly after in July of 2015, hoping the sneaker app would live up to its namesake (Greatest Of All Time.)

A Black Friday fiasco that turned into a blessing

The founders started off with $7.6 million in funding from a handful of venture firms, including Reddit cofounder Alexis Ohanian.

Their first step was to build and refine an authentication process to combat fraud in the online sneaker market.

Both sellers and buyers use the app, with sellers required to apply before they can sell their sneakers. They’re also required to take standardized photos from different angles of the shoe, i.e. the heel, the sole and the lateral sides, which are then processed. GOAT uses these images to build a database of what authentic sneaker models look like - and how to spot replicas.

“It’s a combination of image recognition with machine learning because we get so many of the same type of shoes in our building every single day,” said Lu.

Only once the sneaker passes the authentication process does it become activated for sale. From then on the seller interacts with buyer offers and receives a shipping label from GOAT once a sale has been made. Then the item is sent to either the company's Culver City or New Jersey distribution center, quality controlled, further authenticated and shipped out to the customer in a GOAT-designed shoe box all in one day.

Lu and Sugano had learned their lesson with GrubWithUs: remove as much friction as possible for consumers in the marketplace and make it easy for the product to leave the seller's hands and ship to the buyer's door.

After four months of operation, in November of 2015, the then-nobody company launched a Black Friday campaign discounting the hottest styles of the year at retail prices.

“That year we were talking about the Turtle Doves, the Supreme Fives,” said Lu. “The internet picked it up and it kind of blew up, and every kind of blog picked up this Black Friday campaign.”

Over a hundred thousand users installed the app to take advantage of the sale, causing the newly-launched startup app to crash repeatedly. Some users got in, but mostly everyone was shut out from access to the discounted sneaks.

“We were pretty hated in the community then, but at that point it was better to be hated than to be unknown,” said Lu.

Tapping into star power on court and off court

The Black Friday fiasco put GOAT on the map, and the company hasn't stopped growing since.

The app currently has 7 million users, up from one million at this time last year. There are 100,000 sellers on the app and the marketplace has more than 400,000 sneakers, including iconic kicks like the Yeezy Boosts, Nike Air Max’s and the Chanel X Pharrell’s, which are listed at $20,000.

The company does not disclose its financial results, other than saying it's revenue last year increased 500%. The company says that sellers on its platform have raked in a collective $2 million in sneaker sales.

The brand is building its buzz through events like the after party it hosted during the NBA All-Star Weekend in Los Angeles this year. Houston Rockets point guard James Harden hosted the event.

And GOAT is building up its bench internally, bringing on former Twitter COO Adam Bain to its board last year. The company's headcount has swelled to 300 employees on staff, up from 20 employees two years ago.

After raising $60 million in fresh funding from Index Ventures, Accel and other venture capital firms last month, GOAT is embarking on its next phase of growth beyond the app. In February it acquired Flight Club, which has retail locations in Los Angeles and New York.

GOAT also recently launched a bi-annual, 150 plus-page lifestyle magazine for the brand called “Greatest” spotlighting people across various industries that are defining their own success stories.

But despite the company’s wild success, the founders know they've been fortunate. They know they've caught a culture wave, one that paying sneakerheads are glad to ride. It's a humbling experience that the guys work to keep in mind.

"It is funny because we did an all-hands meeting yesterday and you’re talking and there’s a hundred something people in the audience as opposed to just two years ago when we had less than twenty people," said Lu. "Yeah, we’ve just been very fortunate."

SEE ALSO: Silicon Valley's ultimate status symbol is the sneaker — here are the rare, expensive, and goofy sneakers worn by the top tech CEOs

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