Locklyle pt. 5

Fanfic of the Lockwood & Co. series by Jonathan Stroud. I haven't updated... in a year?? Sorryyyyy! In other news, I really love the Netflix version and like how it's revived the fandom (WC: 522)

This is just a snippet, you can read the whole thing on AO3!

It suffices to say, the job did not go smoothly. Kipps found the source after what felt like an eternity, but was probably not more than a minute from when Loretta Key reached her peak and Lucy had fallen to the ground screaming. From the salt-sprays and scorches that Lockwood could see through the secret doorway, Kipps had resorted to throwing salt bombs and the silver net on every surface of the small room. What the source was or how it was contained was the least of Lockwood’s concerns though. The visitor and her snake-like jaws vanished with a startling pop, and the extreme plummet in psychic pressure made Lockwood nearly double over with nausea. But the screaming continued. Lucy’s screaming continued. Fuck. He was next to her in an instant, but as soon as he touched her, her eyes shot open and the shattering sounds from her throat only intensified. Her skin was pale and blotchy and the hair she wasn’t gripping fell like torn curtains across her face; her eyes burned through him, seeing something he didn’t. “Lucy!” He tried to reach out for her again, but she stumbled away from him. “What’s wrong with her, I secured the source!” Kipps shouted from where he was helping George and Holly get up. I don’t know! Lucy was backed into the corner now clawing at her throat; she looked more like a visitor than she did even on their journeys to the Other Side. God it’s like the Annabel Ward case — she’s gone to deep. “Lockwood! What do we do?” It was Holly’s voice. The torment and fear on Lucy’s face was paralyzing him, dragging him down as if she was ghost-locking him. He saw a trickle of blood from Lucy’s nose. This is hurting her. It was obvious, but seeing the dark stain of her blood track across her sickly skin was enough to jar him to action. He bounded to her and wrapped his arms around her body as tight as he could, fighting her wild thrashing. God, her screams cut his very soul. The very small part of him not completely enveloped in panic noted that she probably wouldn’t be able to speak later. “Lucy! Lucy, please!” As she lost the strength to keep fighting against him, her screams grew more mournful and desperate. He was thankful that his arms kept her hands from continuing to scratch at her face. “Lucy! You’re safe! The visitor’s gone!” His ears were in significant pain by this point. “Lucy!”

“Loretta, stop!” It was George. And Lucy’s screams finally stopped. The silence that followed was deafening and, looking at his teammates, Lockwood was sure that they were just as hesitant to move a muscle and break the stillness that descended on the now disarrayed library. Lucy stumbled out of his arms and wavered in front of him.

“Lucy?” He probed quietly. 

She raised her face to look at him and the, pardon the pun, haunted sheen in her eyes was shattering. She took a staggering step towards him, but collapsed forward, making Lockwood rush forward to hold her for the second time.

Sasusaku Pt. 3

Continuation of my Sasusaku fic. I mean it when I say slow-burn. Thanks for the support, loves. Let me know what Sasusaku/ff tropes get you going! I just love writing so I might as well write what people have been wanting to read. WC: 1,142

The Hokage’s office was close to the new hospital, but Sasuke had to go into town first. 

As he entered a café on the way back out of town, with a shopping bag already reluctantly over his shoulder, he made a point of letting his hair fall in front of his Rinnegan —  the place was too civilian. The woman behind the counter must have recognized him, but didn’t react, “What can I get for you, sir?” 

“The chicken bento with crispy rice and… a latte… with vanilla,” He said, feeling slightly unsure of the whole situation, “please,” he added as an afterthought. The woman smiled, as if they were sharing a secret, “Of course, sir.” He took a seat at one of the tables as he waited, taking the time to survey the café décor, its patrons, and the surprising number of exits. Where its civilianness was initially off-putting, there was actually something comforting about it, he realized. Maybe its simplicity. There was a semblance of the peace he felt traveling the world alone in this airy paneled café. ‘Maybe I’ll come back,’ he thought as the woman got his attention again, handing him the lunch box and drink. He sorted the bento alongside the smaller box already in his bag and made his way to the hospital, the coffee warming his hand through its cardboard sleeve. 

“Are you here for Dr Haruno, Uchiha-san?” The receptionist asked him as he walked up. Sasuke paused. It wasn’t surprising that the young woman recognized him, but as far as he knew, he was arriving unannounced. Before he could respond the receptionist spoke again, “Apologies for assuming. It’s just that Uzumaki-san only ever sees her.” He just nodded and she gave him directions to Sakura’s office, instructing him to wait on the seat outside of it as she was out tending to patients. 

He was sat under the ‘Chief Medical Officer’ placard for just a few minutes before he heard a familiar voice. ‘Oh she’s pissed,’ he noted, trying to suppress his amusement as Sakura and a meek looking doctor rounded the nearest corner, the latter growing meeker by the step. “I don’t care what Dr Hiashi told you. That is an incorrect diagnosis and we will not go forward with any more steroid treatments. Is that clear?” The other doctor looked positively ill as he nodded. “And you can tell Dr Hiashi I said that if he tries to make any more independent decisions.” The doctor nodded again and practically ran off. Sakura finally turned towards where he was sitting and the anger and authority rolling off her was nearly enough to wipe everything he was going to say from his mind, but her scowl was quickly replaced with surprise. “Sasuke-kun?”

“Kakashi said you could do my physical to update my paperwork.”

“I- of course. Ah… come in,” She replied, unlocking her office door and holding it open for him. He was astounded at the sheer number of books and files, though unsurprised that it was all impeccably organized. “Please sit,” she said, gesturing to the chair across from her desk as she slipped off her white coat. A beat of silence passed as she sat down across from him. He felt that same unidentifiable emotion that he did when she was walking him home. Suddenly he remembered the real reason he had come, “This is for you,” he said, placing the latte in front of her, “and these,” he added as he struggled slightly to remove the two boxes from his bag. He felt a secret satisfaction at the incredulous expression on her face. “Sasuke-kun…” She brought the containers closer to her and opened them, her face glowing as she observed the contents. “I’ve been craving anko!” She said grinning, “And I desperately needed a coffee.” Sasuke was relieved that her food preferences hadn’t changed, but where she would have dug in immediately when they were kids, she now pushed the open bento towards the center of the desk. “Sasuke-kun,” She lifted her eyes to his and he subconsciously noted that her eyes matched the ankos, “thank you.” He nodded.

“Why?” 

“Hm?”

“Why did you bring me my favorites? Only you, Naruto, or Kakashi know that I prefer crispy rice in my bentos. Are you leaving again?” She replied.

“Ah, no, not yet. I’m… I want to say I’m…” He would have been embarrassed at how difficult this was if he wasn’t so focused on finding the right words, “I’m sorry you’ve gone out of your way. The apartment is too nice for me.” Sakura grinned, “You know, you just have to say ‘thank you’, you don’t need to apologize,”

‘I wish that were true,’

“Have some tomato slices,” she said. ‘She remembers my favorite too.’ He shook his head, “It’s for you.” She scowled at him, “Have you eaten anything today? If you don’t share, I’ll make you have some of the anko.” He wasn’t used to being known so thoroughly and personally by someone and it was unsettling — though perhaps a nice unsettling. No one in the world but Sakura would use sweets as a threat against him — his dislike for them was something that Naruto and Kakashi themselves probably never bothered to notice. “Hn.”

As they shared the bento and chatted — Sakura doing more of the eating and talking —  Sasuke entirely forgot his other reason for being at the hospital. Sakura took a sip of her coffee, “Vanilla? Sasuke-kun, you’ve out-done yourself.” Sasuke was a prideful man by nature, but apparently this was all he needed to satisfy it. ‘I should have started bringing her food ages ago.’

“Oh shoot, I completely forgot why you came!” She exclaimed looking up at the clock. A deep frown cut the smile that had been on her face the whole lunch, “I have appointments from 2:30 until my shift ends at 6. I’ve wasted too much time to do a physical before that, but you could come back at 6 and we could do it then or you could come by tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow then.” He replied, taking the last tomato slice. “Are you sure? I feel terrible that you brought me such a nice lunch and-”

“Sakura,” He interrupted, “I brought you lunch because I wanted to and to thank you,” he caught a smile flit her lips, “And if you’re not on shift I’m not going to have you work.” Sakura hesitated but eventually conceded and thumbed at a notebook open on her desk. “I have an opening at 10 tomorrow. I could pencil you in there if that works?” He nodded and rose to leave. “I’ll walk you out. I don’t need to meet with my patients for another ten minutes and I’d rather spend time with you anyway.” Yeah, spending time with Sakura was very good for his pride.

Locklyle Pt. 4

Fanfic of the Lockwood & Co. series by Jonathan Stroud. I realize this doesn't resolve the cliffhanger, so soz for that! Thanks for the patience <3 You can read the whole story (thus far!) on my page and AO3. (Word Count: 750)

The night had been concernedly quiet — other than the constant noise from Loretta Key, of course. The earplugs were invaluable, but not wholly impervious to psychic noise, so by the time her, Holly, and George decided to take a snack break, her headache was not small. They had heard nothing from Lockwood or Kipps so they assumed they were having the same luck, or lack thereof. “Strange that Lockwood hasn’t found the source in the sitting room,” Holly said, nibbling delicately on a granola square, “He’s usually pretty fast about identifying them and that’s where the other teams had all their trouble.”

“I agree,” Lucy said, massaging her temples. She could picture Lockwood’s growing discontent with the lack of progress, but further musings about the way his eyebrows would furrow or how he would run his fingers through his hair were halted by the throbbing of her head. “You alright, Luce? You want to stay here?”

“No, I’m fine. Just irritated,” She replied, “Let’s try this flight of bedrooms. They’re the most likely place for a source after the thirty other most-likely-places we already tried.” George nodded and crammed the rest of his biscuits into his mouth, placing the wrapper on the ground. “Lockwood will know we took an early break from all the biscuit wrappers you left,” Holly scolded. George just shrugged and cracked his back, “Bah, snacks breaks always happen right before you find the source. It’s science. He won’t get a chance.”

Not that George was employed to be anything other than right, but Lucy still hated when he was. In truth they should have surveyed the room furthest down the hallway earlier, considering it was one of the few still partially furnished in the whole manor, the walls lined with bookshelves and paintings. “Temp’s down,” Holly said as they entered. “That’s a first,” Lucy muttered, “She still hasn’t shut up, but…” Articulating that the sound felt different, even though it sounded the same, was difficult, and Lucy wasn’t sure if it did — whatever that would mean — or if she was just getting ready for a fight. “Let’s just pull some books and see what happens” She said, drawing her rapier. “This bit is the coldest,” Holly said from the other side of the room, grabbing one of the tomes, “Agh!” The book slammed on the ground as Holly recoiled from the now-open space on the bookshelf where spiders were pouring out — their shiny black bodies, leaching across the shelf, reflecting the harsh moonlight. “We might be in the right place,” George said with a grimace, grabbing a thick volume and tossing it at the spiders, “Let’s get—” George was cut off by a shuddering and creaking as the shelf beside him and Holly shifted. Lucy nearly stumbled with the sudden deafening silence. George reached for the slightly ajar shelf, “Huh, a secret roo— ”

“Wait!”

But Lucy was too late and everything went to shit.

The order of events was hazy and it happened in a heart-beat. George’s cracking open the door released enough psychic pressure to send them flying, Loretta surged out and she looked unhappy, books were falling everywhere, someone threw a flare, it was a mess. Lucy couldn’t tell if she lost consciousness from taking book-damage, but when she regained spacial awareness, she was on the ground looking up at Lockwood’s back. He tossed a salt-bomb at the visitor, who definitely didn’t appreciate it, and Lucy pushed to her feet. “Glad you could make it,” She said. ‘It probably would have got them, otherwise,’ Lucy thought, sparing a glance at George and Holly who were strewn on the opposite side of the room than she saw them last. “The source is definitely in there,” She said, tossing a salt-bomb when the visitor’s interest seemed to turn away from them. ‘Kipps must be on it.’

“Go help him, I’ll keep her—”

The visitor looked at her and Lucy’s mind went white — her thoughts lost to an absolute breath-stealing pain. She numbly registered that her rapier was no longer in her hands, one of her ear-plugs was missing. She was falling. The world was consumed by Loretta’s screams and then it was worse. It was anguish. It was Loretta’s anguish. Lucy felt all of it.

For a moment beyond time, Lucy saw the gifts and embraces and smiles. A gentle man brushing a curl behind her ear, his fingers being replaced with cold steel and Lucy felt all of the confusion, the betrayal, and the pain.

SasuSaku pt. 2

Finally got to writing another (short) part of my SasuSaku fic! Here's the first half, the full piece is on AO3. Enjoy and critique. <3 (WC: 475)

He couldn’t sleep. He hadn’t really expected to though. He couldn’t bring himself to unpack his meager belongings from their scrolls — not yet — and he had no reason to kill time by cooking as he was still overfull from Ramen, so he laid there for god-knows-how-long staring at his ceiling. The bed was comfortable though, and after what felt like an age of sleeping wherever his travels led him — they seemed to frequently lead him under a tree — he was grateful for a proper bed. He ran his hands over the dark linen bed-spread which, as he had discovered in his hours of wakefulness, matched the curtains and towels and even the little pillows on his couch; clearly the work of Sakura. He almost laughed at the thought of Kakashi or Naruto putting that much consideration into color coordination. ‘I should do something for her,’ he thought. There was part of him that urged him to cut off contact with his former teammates, to not bring them down by association with him, to not complicate their lives any further. He knew it was the same voice that had driven him to leave them all behind when he was a kid and pursue mindless hatred — and he was trying to give it less of a foothold in his mind, but it seemed to take over in the safe, lonesome silences that had characterized nighttime in Konoha for him since he was eight. Sasuke swung his legs off the bed — ‘Why did they get me such a big bed?’ — and combed his hand through his hair. ‘Ah, I need to cut it again.’ He glanced out the window to see pink gently coloring the horizon. Sasuke was never a morning person, but that doesn’t really count when you haven’t slept at all.

As he looked through the basic groceries in his kitchen for breakfast, he considered what he could do for Sakura, both in thanks and to continue to apologize. With intense discomfort, he realized that he couldn’t recall ever apologizing to someone beyond just saying he was sorry. ‘You’re a bad person,’ the voice said, and it was difficult to argue with it. What would his teammates do in his position? Nothing he thought of was quite right though; Kakashi, Naruto, and Sakura were all too different from him for any emulation on his part to be natural. As Sasuke leaned against the cool counter and pondered, his eyes came to rest again on the old green tea pot. ‘What would father have done?’ The only person he could recall his father asking for forgiveness from was his mother. He was too young to have paid close attention to their relationship and he felt the now-dull pang of longing as he tried to think back to how they would act with each other. ‘That might do.’

Sasuke & Kakashi headcannon

Working on a continuation of my SasuSaku piece and imagined this line from Kakashi. Doesn't quite fit into the story, but it felt a bit too meaningful to forget entirely.

Scene: Sasuke is in the Hokage office filling out paperwork to get back on the mission roster

The ‘Height’ and ‘Weight’ lines forced Sasuke to pause again. “You’ll have to go into med for a physical analysis, so what you don’t know can be filled out then.” Any remark about Kakashi’s apparent omniscience was drowned in flashes of blood and terrible hands at the thought of a ‘physical analysis.’ He dully noticed a cold sweat on the back of his neck. “I’ll see when Sakura’s available,” He heard a voice say, and eventually Sasuke could breathe again.

"Sasuke," He looked up from the beaten desk and saw somber pain in Kakashi's face, "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you."

Update!

Hi all! I finally started an account to actually publish my fanfics! It will have all the stories that are here and some extra content that didn't make this page. Please check it out and thanks for all the support you've been giving me! <3

Locklyle pt. 3

Fanfic of the Lockwood & Co. series by Jonathan Stroud. I really like this section since it touches on one of my favorite parts of L&C (second only to the Locklyle ship obviously), which is the technicalities of The Problem. This chapter's from Lockwood and a bit longer than I would have preferred to post in one go, but there wasn't a great place to split it. Enjoy and thank you all for the support! (Word Count: 1,824)

There was something distinctly wrong with the Key manor. Firstly, for all its isolation, it had an underwhelming view. Secondly, it was screaming. There wasn’t anything too out of the ordinary in their walk-through, only the sheer number of protective chains they had to set-up throughout the problematic and vast western wing. There was no obvious source, but the reports from the two DEPRAC teams recorded an increase of aggressive activity in the third floor sitting room — coincidently where Loretta Key had died. Tonight, however, his concern was, for the first time, not neutralizing the source, but Lucy. Her date may have brought attention to his previously unacknowledged feelings for her, but tonight’s anxieties were completely separate from that. Though they didn’t talk about it, their trips to the Other Side had left residual effects — beyond the white that shot through their hair, Lockwood’s talents only improved as the months passed and, from Lucy’s alarming progress in communicating with visitors, he knew she was experiencing the same. Holly, George, and Kipps certainly experienced a degree of change from their journey, but there was something profound in his and Lucy’s crossing over for a second time. They hadn’t had a strikingly dangerous case like this since La Belle Dame and the nagging suspicion that Lucy’s abilities were far beyond what any of them thought wouldn’t leave him. He made his way across the dark wooden stairs and into their base for the night where Holly was nearly finished making a pot of tea.

As the five of them sat in the chains, sipping tea and discussing the nuances of the visitation, a yelp from Lucy disrupted the otherwise peaceful environment. She jumped violently in her seat, sloshing tea onto the ground. “Luce!” Lucy placed a steadying hand on her chest and let out a light laugh before replying, “Sorry, Loretta just opened up and I wasn’t quite ready for it. It’s not too bad, just surprised me.” Lockwood tuned his ears to the noises of the house, and sure enough there was a faint droning that hadn’t been there before. “I’m picking up something, too.” he said with a nod. A thrill of excitement sparked as he clearly heard a visitor for perhaps the very first time. “Fascinating,” George started, “the sun’s not even set yet.” He seemed to ponder a moment before turning to Lucy, “With the chains I haven’t got her yet. How loud is she if you go outside the barrier?” Lockwood made a noise in protest as Lucy shrugged and stepped across the edge of the chains. Experiencing something they were not, she staggered slightly as her eyes shot open in surprise, then screwed up in pain. Immediately, Lockwood reached for her, pulling her back in. “I’m glad you made me these, George,” Lucy muttered as she sat back down and slipped in the bizarre ear-plugs. George hummed in agreement, but his eyes were distant, “Me in the chains hears practically nothing; you outside the chains experience pain. Fascinating, and all before sunset.”

“Yeah, fascinating.” Lucy grumbled.

“It’s a bit earlier than usual, but seeing as Loretta is active already and we’ve got less time to work with from the summer nighttime schedule, I say we finish our snacks and get started,” Lockwood declared, taking the last bite of his choco leibniz. “Given the nature of the case and the size of the house, we go in teams. Me and Kipps on one and George, Holly, and Lucy on the other, that way you can step out if you need to,” He said turning to Lucy. She nodded, “I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” Fat chance of that, he thought. He would have much preferred keeping her at his side, but the teams needed to have balanced talents and he trusted George and Holly to get Lucy out if need be. “Kipps and I will start in the third floor sitting room where she died, you guys can start wherever you think best.”

Though Lockwood would never say it, this was his least favorite part of investigations. No thrill of the chase yet to distract from the reality that he was sending his friends into a life or death situation. “Come on, Tony. Stop staring after your girlfriend, we’ve got a job to do.” Lockwood scowled, “I can fire you, you know. I hear DEPRAC loves washed-up bastards.”

“Oh come on, that was just mean.”

Lockwood shot him side-eye, but turned back to the hallway, wallpaper lined with dancing shadows from his candle. “For all the noise,” Lockwood noted, gesturing vaguely, “there’s very little psychic pressure.” He saw Kipps nod and adjust his goggles. A nervous habit, does he have the same bad feelings about this case? “Maybe this is normal? It might not take as much presence for sounds to manifest as it does for apparitions, we just never hear them.” Lockwood hummed in acquiescence and entered the sitting room where the death-glow burned lightly in the far corner. “I doubt the other teams didn’t try this, but let’s put a silver net under the death-glow just in case.” Lockwood said, slipping one out from the bag of gear by the doorway and handing it to Kipps. He glanced back over at Kipps when the man hadn’t moved. “I know I’m old, but even with the goggles I’ve got nothing,” he said, squinting like a mole in sunlight as he scanned the room, “Although, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a Victorian death-glow. That’s quite a bit aged.” Though it wasn’t bright, the glow was clearly there hovering at the edge of the room, and Lockwood was again left pondering the effects of the Other Side. “Then she must have something to stick around for.” Lockwood replied simply, taking the net from Kipps and draping it across the floor. It successfully extinguished the death glow, but did nothing for the high pitched droning. “Oh well. Keep an ear on the noise as I peak around, let me know if it gets louder.” Lockwood said. He pulled at loose floorboards and fireplace bricks to no avail before giving up and moving onto other rooms. “This isn’t making sense. We’ve cased the whole third floor and not so much as a cold-spot,” Lockwood scoffed turning back to Kipps who was frantically combing a spider-web out from his red hair, “The other teams reported aggressive activity in the sitting room, but the most we found were spider-webs. What are we missing?” He questioned as they made their way to the chains on the second floor landing to get some biscuits and hot chocolate. From the wrapper carnage, it seemed that George and his team had taken a break earlier.

“Well how long were they in the house for? Perhaps they went up to the sitting room first because that’s where she died, triggered it, and had to get their listeners out. So they only got to scope that room,” Kipps took a sip from his thermos, “Besides, the psychic pressure has been building as the night has gotten darker, so it’s not like we’ve come up with nothing.” Lockwood frowned, “But how did they trigger her on room one when we’ve gone through four and the others must have had more, having started at the bedrooms. What’s the difference between them and us? And if the sitting room makes her aggressive, why couldn’t the other teams find the source in there? It’s barren and I feel like we pulled at every beam and board without her getting angry.” As they pondered, Lucy and Holly’s laugh could be heard distantly. “Could it be the teams?” Kipps said suddenly. “What?” But the gears in Lockwood’s head were already turning. They were rare for being a team of five, it allowed them to cover more ground, but it also meant that not everyone went to all the rooms. The DEPRAC teams worked in threes so they all would have been present in the sitting room. “La Belle Dame was a visual case that had targeted victims. This is an auditory phenomena…”

“We need to regroup.” Do visitors go after people with certain talents? Would agent fatalities and injuries on cases be tracked based on talent? This was one of the more injury ridden cases in a long time with two victims, and while he didn’t have George’s mind for statistics, that didn’t seem like enough data to draw conclusions. They might and we would never know.

“The noise stopped.”

Lockwood’s eyes met Kipps' wide ones and they scrambled to their feet. “Where are—” Lockwood was cut off by an ear-popping swell in psychic pressure and a raucous crash from the hallway on their right. As they ran in the direction of the sound, rapiers in hand, a flash of magnesium flare directed them into the last room on the left. They skidded into a bizarre scene of George and Holly lying haphazardly against the wall under a mess of books, a particularly gruesome visitor looking over them. Across from them, a shelved wall hung open, revealing what must have been a secret room. Naturally. “The source must be in there. Go!” He ordered Kipps. As the red-head took off, Lockwood flung a salt-bomb at the foot of the spirit, forcing its attention on him. Where’s Lucy? The instant he thought it, he heard tumbling from the corner nearest to the door and saw Lucy standing up, letting books fall off of her to the ground. She raised her rapier at the spirit, “Glad you could make it,” she said, casting a wary glance at Holly and George who were still lying on the other side of the room, “the source is definitely in there.” She threw another salt-bomb to keep Loretta’s interest away from where Kipps was searching for the source. “Go help him, I’ll keep her—” The banshee’s horrible black gaze locked onto Lucy, undeterred by either salt-bomb, and it cracked open its cavern of a mouth. The noise emitted was piercing and sharp, far worse than it had been all night, and Lockwood flinched at the assault of it. At his side, Lucy’s rapier clattered to the ground. Her hands flew to her ears and seemed to tear at her hair, her face awash with pain. Lockwood placed himself between Lucy and the encroaching Banshee. “Faster, Kipps!” He lanced the apparition through with knots of his rapier, forcing it to withdraw back, but it didn’t dissipate completely. Persistent. I’d prefer if it was trying to protect the source, honestly. He spared a glance behind him to see Lucy doubled over against the wall. His efforts only seemed to anger the spirit, her mouth split wider, like some nightmarish snake, and released a wail so loud that he felt the vibrations through the floor. He could no longer hear her though, he was fully consumed with the shredding of Lucy’s screams as she tumbled to the floor.

Locklyle Pt.2

TW: Brief mention of dr*gs and Su*cide

Thanks for the encouragement @missnamiko and @maisa-a! Fanfic of the Lockwood & Co. series by Jonathan Stroud. This time a chappy from Lucy. (1,400 words)

“Alright, George, what have you got for us?” Lockwood asked, setting a mug of tea in front of Lucy. She cast him a small smile of thanks, but with the pain in her head, it likely came out more like a grimace. “Well, our ‘banshee’ is the spirit of a nasty number named Loretta Key. Late nineteenth century opera singer, famous enough, who had a few too many jilted lovers and opiate run-ins,” George replied, pushing his crooked glasses back up his nose, “She commits suicide in her home on 8th August 1897 while heavily under the influence, but I’m not the only one who thinks it was probably a murder.” Lucy deliberated for a moment, “Okay. Particularly text-book Type-Two, so what’s the catch? Why did three DEPRAC teams fail to get this one?” George smiled and his eyes were concerningly alite behind his glasses, “I’m so glad you asked, Lucy.”

“Yeah, well that’s why we’re here.”

“You have jam on your nose.” Lucy frowned and rubbed at her face.

“Anyway, you lot remember La Belle Dame?” Lucy snuck a glance at Lockwood out of the corner of her eye, only to meet his gaze as he did the same. A heat teased her cheeks at being caught, but under his expressionless mask, she could tell he was thinking the same thing as her. “I’m not sure I like where this is going,” Lockwood said, drumming his fingers.

“Don’t worry, you won’t be predisposed to death-snares on this one — hopefully. Perhaps I should amend and liken this to the Solomon Guppy case.”

“I wish you wouldn’t.” Around the table, everyone had ceased their eating. Holly’s perfect complexion had turned sickly and Kipps’ scowl was especially sour; even Lockwood sported a frown. Lucy’s hangover faded as memories of the horrible sounds of that house returned — ‘Click, click, click.’ She was yet to forget the revulsion of the whole ordeal. George went on, likely encouraged by everyone’s discomfort, “Like La Belle Dame in terms of character type and unique manifestation. Like Guppy because until she comes out in full force, Lucy’s going to be bearing the brunt of the manifestation.” Lockwood tapped his hand on the table, “I don’t like it.”

“You’ll like it less as I go on then.” Lockwood’s frown deepened, his face mirrored Lucy’s thoughts. Damnit, I don’t like being the one visitors focus on. “She’s a fascinating case of a screaming-spirit,” Bloody Hell those are the worst, “because agents with no listening talents, even the aged and decrepit with no talents what-so-ever — Kipps for example — can hear her.” George let that settle dramatically before continuing, “and agents with listening have a hell of a time in her mountain-top mansion.” This is going to suck, I just know it. I already have a headache. “If we can all hear her — I’d like more details on that, please — how is this like the Guppy case? We didn’t get a hint of auditory activity, just toes in fruit bowls,” Lockwood asked, his fingers knitting under his chin. “If this is as gruesome as that, I request to sit out, if possible,” Holly announced, looking positively ill. “No, no, nothing like the visuals of the Guppy case. To answer your question, Lockwood, to non-listeners, the banshee’s screams are described in the DEPRAC reports to be somewhere between old telly static and whistling. Not too loud, but annoying to those who aren’t used to enduring audio disturbances during a case. For Luce here,” For the first time, George’s gripping narrative was tentative and her interest grew, “Well, Luce, I’m the last person to encourage anyone to sit out because of others’ failures, but…” He trailed off again, seeming to search for the proper words. “Spit it out, mate. I’m not going to rip your head off for reporting your research.” She demanded, irritated by his uncharacteristic timidity. “Fine, okay. Three teams went in, all had listeners because of the nature of the case. All three had to be carried out. The last one, the better of three, left on a stretcher. And Luce, you’re better than all of them combined.” Silence descended in the kitchen. If everyone had sobered at the mention of Guppy, they were positively still now. “I suppose we’re meant to gather that their issues weren’t ghost-touch related,” Kipps managed. George shook his head. All eyes turned to Lucy now. The information was difficult to manage — one the one hand, if far-worse listeners were being carted out for sound-related injury — Is that a thing? — her talent could pose a serious liability; on the other hand, her listening was different, she had a greater connection to the Other Side. The rest of the company was still waiting for her answer, “George, did these agents have to be carried out for psychotic breaks or just the banshee’s volume?”

“As far as I can tell, Loretta Key was just being too loud. I imagine they were left rattled, but there are no mental health reports.” Lucy nodded, “Technically this is up to Lockwood, but I’d like to go, especially since the rest of you don’t know how to interpret psychic sounds. If it becomes too much I’ll retreat behind some chains, that generally gets the job done,” Lockwood cast her a skeptical look over his floral mug. Lucy rolled her eyes, “Trust me, when it comes to extremely loud visitations, I don’t mind sitting in chains for a night.” Lockwood deliberated for a moment before shrugging, “You know your limits better than I and we will need you to help us less talented folks,” he said with a megawatt grin and a wink, “Besides, there’s no one I’d rather have watching my back.” For the second time in less than five minutes her cheeks were awash in warmth as she looked at Lockwood, this time though it wasn’t from embarrassment, rather from the nameless emotion that follows high praise and acknowledgement of her capacity as an agent. “Right, well… glad that’s settled.” George coughed.

Lucy fiddled with the little plastic case George had handed her earlier in the afternoon when they had been assembling gear. “I put these together for you.” he had said holding the strange looking objects in his palm. “Are— are those ear-plugs? You know psychic listening isn’t the same as regular hearing?” George scowled, but was far too excited to keep up the act. “I know that! But I was curious if I could make working psychic ear-plugs. I took this spare pair that I had bought for my snoring — don’t worry they were still in their package,” he had added seeing her horrified face, “I speared the middle with a filament of iron and, just for a little more protection, brushed them with some silver dust.” He continued as she took the two small rubber pieces, “You said that even having your rapier on you hinders psychic noise, so I thought — under the assumption that the ears are the primary receptor for Listening — having even this much warding material in your ears might give you a leg up on ol’ Loretta tonight.” The only drawback was that they also made it harder for her to hear her teammates, but everyone agreed that it would be a better alternative to dragging Lucy out of the building. As she looked out the taxi window, the abandoned manor appeared at the end of the road. Not all haunted houses looked haunted, but this one certainly did. Even from a distance, the grey Victorian-style seemed to be daring them closer, luring them in. “Well, Miss Carlyle, you’ve certainly got a sour looking house on your hands tonight,” Her cabbie Albert muttered, tugging nervously on his white beard, “I dinna even need me talents to know to stay away from this one.” Lucy smiled, “I was thinking the same, Mr Wickerbee.”

“In my day, there didn’t seem to be such terrible hauntings. You kids really are remarkable things. I’m honored to be your driver, but I’d feel something awful if anything happened to you lot.” Normally, Lucy wasn’t one for talkative cabbies, but like Jake who was driving the other car, Albert Wickerbee had clicked with the team and, with his northern accent and grandfatherly disposition, he reminded Lucy of her neighbor who would make her and her sisters pastries growing up. “Don’t worry, Mr Wickerbee, we’ll be just fine. Aren’t we always?”

Locklyle

Snippit from a Locklyle fic that I've been writing on and off for a while. Fanfic of the Lockwood & Co. series which is tragically less popular than it should be. Comfort characters babes. Comfort characters. This is about 1,400 words out of the 5,200 I currently have written so lmk if you'd want more of it! (Also, thanks to the folks who have started interacting with this page <3 )

“Who’s her date?”

“A bloke named James McGladdery. The charming and wildly handsome type. He was a pretty talented listener at Fittes before he got shuffled off to DEPRAC. A perfect match for our Lucy, methinks.” George replied, smugly looking over his biscuit.

“And good with his rapier,” Kipps said, coming through the door, arms laden with bags. Lockwood scoffed in disgust, but a nasty turn in his stomach complimented the unease that had snaked its way through his chest. “I fear you may be out of the game now, Tony,” Kipps said with a pat on his shoulder, “You had a shot for a while there, though.”

“What do you mean, ‘out of the game’? What game? Lucy can do whatever she wants.” Lockwood replied, he cringed internally at how defensive he sounded. He knew exactly what Kipps meant, unfortunately.

“And she wanted to go out with James What’s-His-Face.”

“So?” Lockwood replied, preparing his tea in case he was going to want to avoid his coworkers for the rest of the evening.

“Fuck’s sake, Lockwood. Do you like her or not?” Both the directness of the question and the heat in George’s voice brought his anxiety to a head. Holly held up her hand, calling for peace, “Lockwood, you don’t have to answer that. What the boys are getting at is that we can’t keep letting you go back and forth with your feelings for Lucy,” Lockwood, though physically towering over Holly, felt quite small under her pointed gaze, “She’s our friend and you’re not going to lead her on. If you don’t like her, stop acting like you might. Okay?” Her smile and even her tone were still the Munro Special, but her eyes indicated otherwise.

Lockwood was brooding the rest of the evening. He couldn’t get the image of Lucy out of his head as he took violent swipes at Floating Joe. Did he have a crush on his employee? It wasn’t even really a question anymore, he hadn’t seen Lucy as just an employee since he hired her, and she had begun to cross over from his best friend to something more he didn’t know how long ago. Memories of her broad smiles and dark hair filled his mind — they had been through so much together that he’d seen every expression, rapier trick, and plasma-stained outfit that she had. Except for that dress, I certainly hadn’t seen that one. She had looked beyond phenomenal, and it was for someone else. He lopped a nasty gash into Joe’s side and tore a hand through his hair in frustration. As Lockwood put away his gear and fixed up the dummy he thought back to his friends’ advice. With shame he realized that he was sort of leading Lucy on — he gave her a necklace that represented undying devotion, took her on a spin around the block and that was it. They had hardly been alone with each other in the past months unless publicity events counted, and he doubted they did. And now she was wining and dining with some adonis who would surely steal her heart. Has she ever smiled for me the way she was smiling when he knocked? Like a train full of hot coals ramming through him, Lockwood realized that he couldn’t ever be satisfied with his Lucy just being a dear friend to whom he occasionally gifted the private parts of himself. Kipps told you though, it’s too late.

He stepped upstairs and into the living room, sweat lining his brow, to see Holly dozing in her arm-chair. “Holly, I didn’t expect you to still be here. Everything alright?” She blinked sleepily a few times before she responded, “Oh, yeah, I’m just making sure Luce gets home okay. She might need my help with her dress buttons.” Lockwood frowned at himself, he hadn’t even thought to wait up for her. “I’m going to freshen up then take over for you. You’re dead on your feet and we’ve got a case tomorrow. Unless Kipps is also still here and has taken the spare room, it’s at your full disposal.” Holly nodded as he passed her and went up to his shower.

In all honesty, this was one of the rare nights when Lockwood could have retired early himself, but anxiety and frustration were keeping his eyes open. The gossip magazine, open in his hands, was going sorely unread as he pictured a strange man with his hands on Lucy’s hips, buying her drinks and making her laugh. Then it was Lockwood in the stranger’s position. His hands on her. Him making her laugh. Him kissing her at the doorstep before they stumble into the kitchen and— fucking hell, get a hold of yourself. But, the thought had been thought and though shame burned in the back of his mind, it wasn’t enough to smoke out the new images of him and Lucy.

His attention returned to the present at the sound of voices at the front step. A male said something and then there was Lucy’s laugh, “Bye, Jamie, thank you!” She took a few clumsy steps through the doorway and her beaming smile was enough to both elate and crush him. “Oh, hi, Lockwood! Didn’t expect to see you up,” she said with a small giggle.

“Holly wanted to make sure you got home alright,” after a few moments watching her struggle with her shoes he realized she wasn’t close to sober, “Have a good date?” There was perhaps too much ice on the last word.

Her smile still hadn’t faded, “Yes! Although it wasn’t a date, which I thought except Holly told me it was,” she rambled slightly, “Jamie said his boyfriend would have a fright if he found out he was cheating on him, with a girl no less! It was so great and he’s so much fun to talk—”

“Wait, James is gay?”

“Yeah, apparently!” Oh. Lucy continued to animatedly recount her night, but Lockwood felt like the carpet had been snatched out from under him and could hardly pay attention. Perhaps he hadn’t lost his chance with her.

“Lockwood,” his attention snapped to the girl in front of him — was she this close before? — “Is Holly still here?”

He was struck dumb by her all of a sudden, “She turned in about an hour ago.” In the moments she didn’t reply, he drank in the sight of her — she normally guarded her emotions a bit more, he wasn’t used to seeing her so exuberant. “Would— would you be able to help me with my dress?”

Perhaps it was the unwholesome thoughts he was having before she came in or maybe it was her earnestness, but Lockwood felt heat flush the back of his neck, “What?”

“Well, Holly did up the buttons in the back for me and I don’t want to wake her, but I don’t think I can get them myself.”

“Oh— oh, okay, sure,” he stuttered and raised himself from his chair. She cast him a toothy smile that was so quintessentially Lucy and his anxieties were smoothed — this was his best friend, not a creature he had to worry about slipping up in front of. The back of the dress, which he hadn’t seen before, was tantalizingly open, crossed with straps that were held together at her spine by a few buttons. He was immensely thankful that no one was witness to his shaking hands as his knuckles and finger tips brushed her bare skin. Undoing a beautiful girl’s dress, best friend or not, was far more intimidating than any raw-bones or poltergeist he had fought. Oh God, I’m taking Lucy’s dress off. Oh shit. His thoughts were reduced from sensical to a droning wail as she shivered and tilted her profile towards him, gifting another broad smile, “I don’t know if I already thanked you for this, but you really don’t know how hard those would have been for me to get myself!”

For a brief moment as she turned back around, he was ensnared by the vision of her, dim light reflecting off of a glitter on her eyelids and the gloss on her lips, her hands holding the top of her dress up. His face felt far warmer than usual. Has she always had such small hands? “Anyways, I should head up if I’m going to be worth anything against that banshee tomorrow.” She left him standing dumbly on the worn down carpet. I need to go to bed.

Sasusaku pt.1

Part of a fic I’ve been casually twiddling on. Not critically reviewed and I haven’t gone through to check how formatting got screwed up. Please enjoy and critique though!

If it was truly up to Sasuke, he would never return to Konoha, at least that’s what he told himself. His hand rested against the bark of a tree as he paused and watched the sun setting over the cliffs guarding the village. Still, he couldn’t quell his anticipation to see his former teammates. ‘The dobe will have such a meltdown if I’m late,’ he thought as he watched Konoha turn pink and violet, ‘Sakura doesn’t like tardiness either.’ Would they be as happy to see him as he was to see them? Naruto’s letter in response to Sasuke’s plans for a long-term return was obnoxiously celebratory, but the logistics of reality were going to be more complicated than writing a letter and Sasuke was sure he was going to become a burden on his friends. He was, and he’d be the first to admit it, a criminal who had done terrible things. Surely the people of Konoha weren't going to forget that.

 “Sasuke! Sasu-ke!” Perhaps the dobe was glad to see him. “Naruto.” Sasuke replied simply, unable to keep a small smile off his face as Naruto slung his arm around Sasuke’s shoulder and walked him the last few meters to the gates where Kakashi was waiting with grinning eyes. “Welcome home, Sasuke,” Kakashi said, gripping Sasuke’s open shoulder, “It’s good to see my boys back together again!” 

“You better believe it! We’re not letting Sasuke get away anytime soon!” Naruto promised loudly, “Teme, let’s celebrate with food!” Sasuke’s instinct was to deny, but he hesitated — he was hungry. “Perhaps you would rather retire to your house after your journey, Sasuke,” Kakashi suggested, catching Sasuke’s pause. As usual, very little gets past the Rokudaime. “No, food sounds fine,” then reassessing his company, he asked, “Are we expecting Sakura?” Naruto’s face fell, “No,” Sasuke’s own smile faded, “she was planning on it, but had an emergency surgery. She might catch up later,” Naruto lamented. Sasuke felt a fleeting panic before remembering that Sakura was the doctor not the patient, then a strange sense of disappointment settled on him. ‘Why? I don’t care if I see her. She’ll probably be as clingy as the dobe anyway.’ As the three men made their way through the streets to Ichiraku Ramen — where else? — Sasuke couldn’t help but feel the disconnect. The buildings were different, entirely new streets had been constructed, he didn’t recognize many of the passersby, everyone was greeting Kakashi and Naruto with reverence. There were some who addressed him, welcomed him home, even thanked him for his service in the war; he did his best to seem approachable and receptive, essentially a non-threat. Most people just gave him a wide berth, at worst they whispered to their neighbor. And the night was pleasant. 

Sasuke munched quietly on his ramen as Naruto animatedly recounted the various events of the past few years, many of which Sasuke already knew from letters. Occasionally, Kakashi or Teuchi would ask a question about his travels. Sasuke even ordered a second bowl. “How has Sakura’s work at the hospital gone? I heard about her plans for a mental health program when I was in Suna.” He asked when there was a lull in the conversation. “Oh you know Sakura-chan,” ‘I really don’t,’ “She’s the best of the best,” Naruto replied. There was an uncharacteristic cynicism in his tone. “Hn?” Naruto blinked up and the broad grin returned to his face, “She just does so much for the village. More than me, believe it. She should get the  hero praise. I’m a jinchuriki, but she worked for every ounce of her power. She just works too hard sometimes, you know?” Sasuke nodded and contemplated over his noodles. ‘Naruto’s more self-aware than he used to be.’ 

Suddenly a familiar chakra tickled his senses. His head flew up to see pink hair reflecting off the far street-lamp. His stomach jumped, would she be excited to see him? Does she look the same? Does she still feel the same about him? ‘Who cares? Why would she?’ And it was true. He deserved her hatred for all that he had done to her, not her love. “Oi, Sakura-chan!!!” Naruto ran to drag her into the ramen shop. “Slow down, Naruto! I was getting there!” Though she sounded angry, she practically glowed as she laughed and greeted Kakashi. Then she turned to him and time seemed to slow. Was he using the Rinnegan? Her smile was still the genuine one that Naruto and Kakashi had received, but she simply bowed lightly at him and took the open stool at his side. ‘Oh.’ He had fully expected a hug in her typical Sakura fashion. Some declaration of affection at least. “I’m glad you’re home, Sasuke-kun. Sorry for running so behind,” then, “I’ll have a small bowl please, Teuchi-san.” Before Sasuke could reply, Naruto butted in, “Sakura, only a small?! You normally get a medium! Did you eat before coming to see us? Is that why you’re so late?” Sakura laughed sheepishly, “Ah, no. I didn’t get to eat any food on my shift, so I don’t want to make myself sick. I’m late because of that damn operation.” Then Sasuke saw how fatigue was dragging on her; her normally impeccable posture was slouched, she was blinking often, and the circles under her green eyes were concerningly pronounced. “When did you start today?” Kakashi asked. His bowl was mostly empty, but none of them had caught him with his mask down. Sakura pondered for a moment, “Eh… seven, but I got there at six-thirty to catch up on paper-work.”

“In the morning?! Geez, Sakura! How many times do we have to tell you to take care of yourself?” Naruto turned to Sasuke, “You see what I mean now? She works too much!” Sasuke hummed in agreement and received a scathing, but playful glare from Sakura. For all that had happened and the time that had passed, conversation between Team Kakashi flowed comfortably and Sasuke felt that maybe he would be able to call this place home again. 

“We’ve set up your new house so that you can move in tonight,” Kakashi said, turning to practicalities, “and we can get you back on the mission roster if you come by my office tomorrow.” Sasuke nodded and took the key from his former sensei. “I’ll walk you there after this,” Sakura yawned, “it’s on my side of town. We figured you’d prefer to be more on the outskirts.” ‘of course they did.’ “Don’t bother, I’ll find it myself,” he said. “My day has been too shitty to argue niceties with you. I’m walking you to your place.”

She was shorter than he remembered. “It’s only another five minutes or so,” Sakura said, breaking the somewhat uncomfortable silence that accompanied their journey. He hummed in response and the silence returned. ‘Dammit this used to be so easy. Say something!’ “I’m sorry you are going out of your way for me. You should be resting,” he decided on. It wasn’t really what he was meaning to say, but it was true. Unfortunately, this didn’t trigger the conversation he was hoping it would; Sakura simply waved her hand, telling him to not think too much about it. ‘Sakura used to talk so much,’ he thought with an emotion that was beyond his ability to identify. Sadness? Guilt? Nostlagia? He had never wanted to talk — or at least not walk in silence —  as much as he did then, and that unto itself was concerning considering he rarely spoke more than a sentence to anyone. “How did that surgery go?” Sakura turned and looked up at him with the faintest smile ghosting her face, and he was shocked to find himself thinking about how nice she looked in the moonlight. “Are you making small-talk, Sasuke-kun?” He looked back to the road ahead of them. She let out a small chuckle and he lamented at another failed attempt at conversation. However, from his side Sakura spoke again, “The procedure was a success.” Her tone made him look at her from the corner of his eye. ‘But?’ After another pause, “It wasn’t meant to happen for another week. We weren’t prepared… I wasn’t prepared. My patient's condition is developing faster than it should and we were forced to act or lose them.” Sasuke nodded, “But you saved them.” He saw Sakura look up at the star-studded sky and tug at her hair. ‘It’s long again.’ “For now,” she said after another pause, “I’m headed back to the hospital once you get settled to continue my research though. I don’t know how much longer we can go without a proper prognosis and treatment plan.” He was about to protest her doing anything but sleeping when she cut him off, “Here we are! The newest Uchiha residence!” she announced cheerily, her mood completely changed. Sakura’s hands were clasped on her chest as they walked up a short stone walk-way to a small house and she watched him unlock the door. “I can show you around if you’d like or I can leave you to it,” she said as the lock clicked, “Naruto and I spent some time setting it up.” He opened the dark door and let her follow him in. She reached to his left and clicked a switch, illuminating the room. “Most of it is new,” she said as he looked around. His gaze stopped on an old green tea set on the counter, “But some pieces might be familiar.” Sasuke turned to face her properly, “Thank you.” Sakura looked down at her feet but he caught the pink flushed on her cheeks. “You’ve had a long day, I’ll let you get settled. Let us know if you need anything,” she said looking up at him with a small smile. How could she still be so good to him after everything? She turned to step back out the front door. “Get some sleep, Sakura.” He noticed the slightest falter in her perfect smile — ‘“perfect”?’. “Good night, Sasuke-kun.” And she was gone.

Koshira Stats V.1

Not committed to the stat numbers or ages. Just really liked making them and this is pretty much the direction I want the character to go in. I’m trying to not make her OP because she has no reason to be, but being a pretty strong shinobi seems like a legit outcome from years of in-depth study and natural talent. I’m sorry I don’t know how to make images smaller :((

Graphs go by 1pt increments with any data not at a vertex being equal to [the previous whole number].5pts. All stat charts represent Koshira at the very beginning of each rank. 

‘Nin.’ = Ninjutsu    ‘Tai.’ = Taijutsu    ‘Gen.’ = Genjutsu    ‘Int’ = Intelligence    ‘Str.’ = Strength     ‘Spd.’ = Speed    ‘Stam.’ = Stamina     ‘Sls.’ = Hand seals/signs

Genin (12yrs):

Chunin (13yrs):

Jonin (17yrs):

I used this DeviantArt page as my reference for points, point progressions, the such! 

Koshira Jutsu Descriptions

Mind Persuasion Jutsu (a.k.a ‘Siren Jutsu’)* - Verbal; no hand signs; Manipulation of chakra to affect electrical signals within the brain. The user alters sensations, beliefs, and behaviors of the victim. The victim is not aware that they are being ‘persuaded’ — they perform as directed without a second thought (do they remember user saying the words to them?). Casting is audible by and ineffective for those on whom the jutsu was not cast. Mechanics are comparable to the powers of Sirens.

-Developed by Yamanaka Koshira in an effort to perform the ‘Mind Possession Jutsu’. She faced serious difficulty with the ‘Mind Possession’ and tried using her voice as a crutch (similar to the way Naruto uses a clone to create the Rasengan); This is successful at affecting opponents (although still not ‘Mind Possession’) and is developed into a formal jutsu.

- User:  “your leg is in severe pain” or “open this jar” or “tell me where the treasure is”    Victim: their leg flares with pain, they open the jar, they reveal the location of the treasure, etc. with the mentality that ‘yeah, my leg should be hurting right now,’ or ‘This jar needs to be opened’ etc.

*Will be referred to as ‘Mind Persuasion Jutsu’, ‘Siren Jutsu’, and/or ‘M.P. Jutsu’

Silent (Mind) Persuasion Jutsu - non-verbal; hand sign; a non-verbal version of ‘Mind Persuasion Jutsu’. The directed thoughts of the user are obeyed rather than words. Requires greater concentration and chakra than ‘M.P. Jutsu’.

Earth Command - earth style; hand sign; The user verbally commands the behavior of the earth; Inspired by ‘M.P. Jutsu’. “Break!” (personally inspired by Dune [1984])

Sonic Wind Cry - wind style; hand sign; Influenced by the ‘Fireball Jutsu’. Chakra is transformed into wind and released in a ‘scream-like’ fashion; medium range; highly destructive. See: DC’s Black Canary’s ‘Canary Cry’

Yamanaka Koshira

Naruto OC; younger sister of Ino 

Yamanaka Koshira    —    “The Siren (of the Hidden Leaf)”

Age: (Konoha 12) - 1   Hair: Wheat blonde    Eyes: Baby blue 

Height: 5’4” (12yrs), 5’6” (13yrs), 5’7” (17 yrs, adult)    

Stature: Willowy - to all of a sudden - Ino-esque  House: Ravenclaw Chakra Type(s): Wind, earth

Created Jutsu(s): ‘Mind Persuasion’ (a.k.a. ‘Siren’ Jutsu), ‘Silent Persuasion’, ‘Sonic Wind Cry’, ‘Earth Command’

Sensei: [who knows]    Teacher(s): Asuma (wind style, strategy), Temari (wind style), Rock Lee (taijutsu), Sasuke (fireball influences ‘Sonic Wind Cry’), Ino & Inoichi (Yamanaka Jutsus), Sakura ([limited] medical jutsus), Kurenei (Genjutsu), Kakashi (how to manipulate jutsus for her chakra type)

Mission Type(s): Reconnaissance, espionage, data acquisition, matters of state

Notes:

- Always outshone by Ino’s looks/personality/etc. so she turns to academics and shinobi arts for attention

-Brings her friends flowers

-Wears forehead protector on left bicep

-She’s not actually good at the ‘Mind-possession jutsu’

-Becomes a Genin at 12, a Chunin at 13, and a Jonin at 17

-Borders on Genius/Prodigy line

-Works with the Hokage like Shikamaru so she’s not typically sent out on generic missions

-Probably could have become a Jonin sooner but she was focused more on training, jutsu development, and Hokage work than missions

-Shikamaru is typically her jutsu test subject (Chouji isn’t as available Her friends & Ino are nervous about experimental mind jutsus)

-Similar to Shikamaru and Kakashi but more driven

-Very eager and fast learner

-She’s so earnest and willing to ask to learn other people’s jutsus that those being asked generally say ‘yes’ (I guess it’s more common for pride to stop someone from asking how things are done)

-Those privy to her abilities (namely the Siren Jutsu) generally treat her with a degree of mistrust (elder, politician types, yk?)

-“If she didn’t look like me, I’d think she’s yours, Shikaku” “We look alike” “No, we don’t!”