Disclaimer: do you seriously think i own anything? :O

The man put his brush down and smiled for the first time in weeks. His sideburns and beard wove together into a tangled knot, and his bedraggled clothes fluttered in the autumn wind. With a muffled groan he stretched, bones aching, before he stroked his masterpiece, his magnum opus. He had spent weeks of effort on this; it was his best portrait yet. An artist had to appreciate his own works sometimes, or he'd never get to believe that he could actually draw. And so the man smiled at his painting, loving it as he would love a child of his blood. Slowly, he raised his veins-lined, calloused hands to face level, and cupped the picture within his thick fingers.

"Title: Fat Man."

He laughed at his own title. It wasn't really funny, or particularly witty, but it would do. The title was true, anyhow; the man he had captured and immortalised on paper with his paint and pencil was really, truly fat. He looked like a cupboard of sorts from the rear view, in fact. He had just seen the fat man a couple of months ago, when he travelled past the graveyard. He had seen the fat man talking to some woman or other, and he had been struck by the comical obesity of the man.

And an artist never refuses a muse, if the fat man could be called a muse.

So there the fat man stood, pacing on paper. A huge grin was plastered on his face, and his top hat appeared to pop out of the flat plane. His white-ish coat seemed to float in the wind in the two dimensional world the artist had drawn. Yes, he was proud of his work. He had managed to capture such a comical clown-like character he had seen only once, and with such finesse too. His artistic skills must be improving.

He did not see the carriage coming. He did not see the wheels turning. He did not see the driver lose control.

*

Heaven was pretty much a nice place, after all. It was all he had imagined and more. The only two things he regretted were not being able to achieve fame for his painting skills while he still lived and leaving his beloved brother behind.

So he wasn't much pleased when he heard his name being called.

"Eshiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!"

His name resounded through the skies. He was loath to go, but tight strings jerked him towards the ground with increasing velocity. He felt those same strong gossamer threads sealing him into metal, and then moulding the metal casing into a skeleton. What is happening?! From his new bony eyes he looked out. And his metaphorical heart sank into his ribs and out through his feet. He was hanging from some structure, and he was in a graveyard. In front of him, kneeling, was a sobbing middle-aged man.

Just a little behind, the same fat man he had drawn stood.

"Kill him, and wear his skin!"

And the same gossamer threads moved his limbs. He watched in horror, unable to do anything, as his own metallic limbs slashed at his brother. He was equally confused as he somehow struggled into the human skin. It grew soft and snug around his metallic self.

*

He and his comrades were moving towards the little boat that valiantly steered on through the choppy seas. They had all been instructed to eliminate the people on the boat, for those people posed a great threat to the Earl. Then a girl appeared. She took him on, one-on-one.

He smiled, and the metal hands swung up to his eyes, as the girl started charging towards him.

"Title."

A/N: Here's Eshii! Heh so how was this? A bit short, I know. Couldn't think of anything else to write, so ...it's this length. Didn't mean to post this yet, actually, but i'm going off to a chalet trip tomorrow with my class, so might as well post it now heh. Yepps haha thanks for reading! Reviews are appreciated :D