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yawnjunie · 5 years ago

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monster hunting for dummies (1)

chapter one: so far, so bad

Description: Being a gruff, angsty teenager without a filter, you were not expecting to make any friends at your new school. After your first day of school, you decided to stop by the town carnival and have some fun for a bit. But five very annoying honeybees seem to follow you everywhere you go. If your fate hadn’t already been unfortunately entangled with these boys, then the mysterious object the bunch of you found at the fortune teller’s sealed the deal. Little did you know, this was the beginning of a long journey full of all sorts of absurd twists and turns. Word count: 3.4k Warnings: profanity, gore, lethal cuteness/diabetes-inducing fluff a/n: 💡 tip // if you’re on pc, ctrl + “+” to enlarge the screen for a comfy reading mode! we’ve spent a long time planning this story, so please let us know how you think of it so far :) without further ado, buckle in for a wild ride!

———

Wilson High. Probably the most dismal place on the planet. You stared straight ahead, lunch tray in hand.

The cafeteria of the second best high school in the country lay right before your eyes, filled to the brim with top-notch jocks and nerdy A-holes. Someone behind you bumped into you, dangerously shaking the items on your tray. Feeling the weight of your backpack swing towards the right, you stumbled a little. So far, so bad.

You weaved your way through the masses of students walking to their usual seats, already busily chatting about their day. Of course, you kept your distance from the girls with the expensive backpacks and the newest cell phones. Not today, you thought, carefully balancing the food on your tray. Spotting an empty table in the corner of the cafeteria, you sat yourself down and started devouring your food without a second thought.

At least the food here is much better than anything from—

“Hey, you’re that new transfer, right?” A voice interrupted you mid-bite through your cajun pepper-seasoned chicken drumstick.

“Mmmfh, yeah,” you replied, wiping your greasy fingers on a cheap napkin. You looked up, straining your neck to meet the eyes of a boy who just spoke. Squinting from the fluorescent lights, you were only able to make out the looming shadow of the human skyscraper. He had a black backpack slung over his shoulder, and a basketball in the other hand. Who—

As you were sizing him up, his friends were already setting down their backpacks. “‘Bin, we’re going to grab lunch. Watch over our stuff.”

“Alright,” the boy said, awkwardly, seating himself across from you.

“Oh, shoot, I didn’t mean to sit at your table.” You snatched up your napkin pile and picked up your tray. “Sorry.”

“Oh no it’s fine, you can sit here,” he replied, rubbing his ear sheepishly. “If you want.”

You sat back down, shoveling your food into your mouth as fast as you could without choking. This is so awkward. I might as well finish all this food and get out of here.

As you stuffed your face, you looked around at the noisy, yet dismal atmosphere of the room, filled with people you didn’t know and didn’t care about. New school, new air, yet nothing had changed.

No matter where, school just sucked. It was a prison—better described as a hellhole— where bullies and other dull people turned the rest of the barrel rotten. Mental illness was a pandemic; everyone contracted it eventually, either from the schoolwork or from inhaling all the smoke coming from inside the bathroom.

The stuffy confinement of the walls could drive anyone insane. You felt the cool, smooth wall behind you with the back of your hand. This school could seriously be made into a mental ward, if it wasn’t already one. No remodeling required.

Your gaze shifted to the boy in front of you. Of course, every place had its own share of the socially awkward. You, for one, had stopped caring. About nearly everything. In fact, you wouldn’t bat an eye if you failed all your classes; you’d probably end up being a farmer, either way. At best, you’d be a farmer with rudimentary knowledge of chemistry.

Sighing, you ripped another bite of your bread. Shit’s drier than Brandonbury’s humor, and that’s saying something. There was a long period of silence, which the boy in front of you filled by knocking his knees together and picking his fingernails.

Suddenly, you heard a slurred murmur coming from the space in front of you. “Um, wheredidyouusedtogo?”

“What?” Oh, right. There was a person there.

“Like, where did you go, before you came here.” He cleared his throat.

“Oh, yeah. I just went here and there.” You downed an entire carton of milk, wiping the milk mustache off your face with the back of your hand. “Why do you want to know?”

“Just… you know, we’re in the same English class.”

“Okay, and?” You were about to say, but you stopped yourself. Is that too cold? It was an astonishing act, for someone as insensitive as you to think about your words before you spoke. Not that you wanted to come off that way, you just, somehow, didn’t have a built-in thought filter like everyone else. But this time, you didn’t want to sound like a mean person to the first person to strike up a conversation with you in this shitty place.

“...Right. Your name is...” You studied his face. His friend just called him ‘Bin. Does he look more like a Woobin? Or a Yoobin? Changbin? Leebin? You furrowed your brow as you racked up more names. Trash bin, maybe? Haha.

“Soobin.” Close enough.

“Oh, yeah.” You chewed your food slowly, then swallowed. “Cool.”

The boy reached his hand out. “Nice to meet you.”

There was a moment of awkward silence when you didn’t shake his hand. Retracting it, he cleared his throat and looked away in embarrassment.

“Sorry. My hands are greasy,” you said with a shrug. You were wiping them on your last napkin when out of the corner of your eye, you saw his friends walking back with their first rate cafeteria food. Guess that’s my cue.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” you announced as you gathered your trash, preparing to take your leave. “Bye.”

“W-wait,” Soobin cut, making you turn around.

“Here,” you said, wrapping your uneaten bread roll in a grease-spotted napkin and handing it to him, although it was quite non sequitur.

He looked like he wanted those bread rolls. He was staring at them, for like, the entire time I was eating. Kind of creepy, but he’s probably hungry.

“T-thanks. See you around… Wyann, was it?” the boy stuttered, head bowed in embarrassment as he accepted the bread.

Did he pick it up during roll call? People with good memory are creepy. You wondered why anyone would bother to remember your name. It wasn’t like you stood out or anything. Just another face in the crowd.

“What are you, an elephant?”

“What?” His cheeks flushed tomato red. “Are my ears too big for you?”

I didn’t say anything about your ears, but sure.

“Bye-bye.” You rolled your eyes a little. Weirdo.

You walked out the cafeteria and ambled aimlessly down the hallway, figuring that you’d find the bathroom eventually if you kept walking. How did the saying go again? Elephants don’t forget? It’d suck ass to be an elephant, then. Some things are better off forgotten, you thought, shaking off your awkward experience.

It took an eternity of walking, but you found the bathroom. After relieving your pea-sized bladder, you flushed the toilet with your heel and reached down to grab your backpack.

To your horror, there was no backpack to grab.

Being the health-conscious girl you were, you ran your hands under the water for half a second (without soap), then kicked the door open and rushed down in the direction you came. Back in the cafeteria, you scanned the place you’d been sitting at. Sure enough, your backpack was right where you left it, but it was now surrounded by 4 new faces.

I change my mind. I’d rather be an elephant than be in this situation. With a dreadful sigh, you walked up to the table.

“Didn’t you say she called you an elephant?” One of the boys snickered, before being elbowed in the stomach by a taller boy. Seeing you walking to the table, they all ceased their not-so-secretive giggling and cleared their throats, unnaturally leaning against the lunch table.

“Sorry to interrupt, just forgot my backpack.” Avoiding eye contact, you snatched your backpack and started to back away, but as always, the universe didn’t like making things easy.

“Your backpack? When’d that get there?” a boy with dark, curly hair remarked.

“We talked while you guys were getting lunch. This is Wyann, she’s new here. And Wyann, these are the 4 biggest idiots you’ll ever meet.” Soobin explained.

“Okay.” You silently looked the four idiots up and down and they just stared back, both sides at a loss for words. With your eyebrow raised and them frowning back at you, this scenario was straight out of some Disney Channel show. Guess this bread boy isn’t very good at introductions.

“So, Wyann, you’re a transfer? Where from?” Idiot #2 was a boy with wavy blue hair.

“Here and there.”

“Hmmm… do you–”

“Dude, don’t you think you should be the one doing the talking?” Soobin interjected, eyeing his friend awkwardly.

“Oh, right, my name is Yeonjun. I’m just a dude. A really handsome dude. So yeah, you gotta stick around to find out more~”

And if I don’t want to? You thought it’d be pretty funny to say that out loud, but from past experience, you’d found that people didn’t tend to share your sense of humor. Boy, were they missing out.

“Okay.” You simply said.

Just finish saying your names! You guys have one job! Soobin prompted his friends to his left with his eyes.

“Uh, hi! My name is Huening Kai, but you can call me Kai. Nice to meet you. Umm, yeah.” He finished his sentence with a small nod, his curly hair bouncing a little.

“Okay.”

“Well, uh, what is your name?” The boy asked after a moment of silence. He bottled his emotions up really well for someone who looked like he was going to burst from embarrassment the next moment.

“I think you should have your ears cleaned out,” you said matter-of-factly.

“Oh… sorry, I’ll shower when I get home.” It would’ve been a funny comeback if he hadn’t meant it so literally.

Soobin violently facepalmed himself, turning around in embarrassment. When the silence ensued, you answered his question with a heavy sigh.

“You can call me Wyann, but really, my name’s Jared, 19, and I never f*ckin’ learned how to read,” you replied sarcastically. “Between the lines, that is. So I don’t mean to be rude, but I need to get going before lunch ends so I can find my next class, not that you care anyway.”

Turning around to find your next class, you fetched your crumpled campus map from your skirt. Screw school uniforms. If I’m going to be suffering in this hellhole, I’m going to do it in a t-shirt and jeans, starting tomorrow.

You were about to turn a corner in the hallway when a hand stopped you.

“What is it.”

“The social science department’s that way.” A boy with scraggly blonde hair and round eyes flashed a friendly smile at you. Who is this again?

“And how do you know my next class is econ?”

“It’s ‘cuz I’m psychic. And also because all seniors take econ, which only has two classes, and since you weren’t in the first one, you must be in the second one. Here, I’ll help you find the classroom.”

“Cool.” People like this were the type that would get away with murder, and that was cool. But most people found your run-of-the-mill answers off-putting, even when you meant them. And so the rest of the walk took place in silence; for you, a peaceful one, but for him, an awkward one.

–––––––

Tick, tick, tick.

Seconds seemed to slow into minutes. Rather than listen to the monotonous drone of your trig teacher, which was about as interesting as watching sandpaper dry, you turned your attention to your classmates’ side conversations. Not much of an upgrade, but it beat trig.

“Did you catch the latest episode of TEOTFW?”

“Dude, I nearly shit my pants at the part where–”

You tuned the rest out to avoid potential spoilers, making a mental note to watch it later.

“Hey, doing anything this weekend?”

“Don’t tell me you’re throwing another party.”

“Haha, you already know.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of partying, Jackson?”

You didn’t think you and Jackson would get along very well. You had zero interest in parties.

“Wanna go to that carnival after school?”

“What? Since when was it in town?”

“They were setting it up yesterday, so it should be open today.”

“Oh my gosh, I’m gonna buy 50 corndogs.”

At the thought of 50 freshly-fried heavenly-smelling corn dogs, you started to salivate. Sounds like fun. I think I’ll go check it out. After a few minutes of fiddling with your phone under the desk, you pinpointed the location, conveniently just ten minutes away.

When the last bell rang after what felt like an eternity, you were the first one out the door. Your backpack had already been zipped and slung over your shoulder for the past 15 minutes now. Running across the asphalt of the school grounds, you bounded out the gates to sweet, sweet freedom.

On the bus, you took your usual seat: 7th row down, left side, aisle seat. Window seats weren’t your thing; no space to breathe. But then again, that was public transportation for you.

Ten minutes down the road from hell, you could practically smell the corn dogs. The venue was less than a block from the bus stop. It was impossible to miss the flashing lights, the bright colors, and the lighthearted carnival tunes. Instead of hopping off the bus at your usual stop, you jumped right off at the corner of the usually isolated street. And before your very eyes, what was usually a patch of empty grass was now bustling with people and fair booths.

Alright, let’s go get some corn dogs.

––––

Straight away, you ran into a dilemma. Right at the entrance of the place was a towering rocking Viking boat, your favorite type of ride. There was something strangely appealing about feeling your stomach was going to fly out of your body, almost as appealing as stuffing yourself to the brim with oily sausages. Now that you thought about it, you really like abusing your stomach.

Okay, maybe a quick ride wouldn’t hurt.

Being the first person in the queue was among the greatest privileges of mankind. Of course, you went straight to the end of the boat for the maximum thrill. You swung your feet aimlessly, patiently waiting for the ride to start. Most of the riders were parents with their small children, who filed into the middle rows. I’m never having kids. Still, you were grateful for them, because they gave you the whole back row to yourself.

The ride was about to start when a voice interrupted: “Wait, wait! Hold up, we’re coming– oh wow, I’m out of breath.” “Haha, you gotta get out more, ‘Bin.”

Oh dear lord, please no. Not here.

“Or maybe you should quit eating so much bread.”

“Say what you want about my physique, but you’ll never take away my bread rights.”

Please don’t come over here, please don’t come over here.

To your horror, you realized that there was only one empty row left and they were heading straight for it. In a frantic last-ditch attempt, you pulled your hood over your head and turned the other way in hopes that they wouldn’t recognize you. The wooden bench creaked under the weight of five new butts. And it was just your luck that Bread Boy happened to sit closest to you.

“Lucky there was enough room left,” the blue-haired idiot remarked. “Thought we weren’t gonna make it.”

“I’ll say. Maybe if you stopped eating so much bread–”

“Stop teasing me about my bread already. Who are you to talk, anyways? All your nicknames are about food!”

“Well, at least I–”

You rolled your eyes and filtered out the rest of their bickering. What are they, a married couple? Better dynamic than my parents, at least. God, I hope I never get mar–

The ship lurched, jolting you out of your thoughts, and nearly your seat too. For the first time in a long time, you felt a wide grin spreading across your cheeks. With the breeze gusting through your hair, the sensation of thrill in your stomach, and the view from the top of the boat, you felt alive for the first time in a while. At least, until the screams started.

They literally sounded like dying goats. They were hitting notes even you couldn’t hit, and you were a soprano. Not that you knew how to sing, but you could break glass when you stubbed your toe.

The rest of the ride was not a pleasant one. Between the screeching and the obnoxious hyena laughter that followed, you were about ready to jam your fist down their windpipes. Luckily for them, the ride ended and they were spared from your wrath.

“Haha, that was so fun! We should go again!”

Fun, you say? You might have laughed if you weren’t so angry.

“Actually, I think we should dip soon. I dunno why, but I’m getting the heebie jeebies.” Who was that again? Narrowing your eyes, you tried to pin a name on the boy. Oh, never mind. He’s one of the guys who didn’t introduce himself.

“Sure, Tae. You and your spidey sense have gotten us out of trouble too many times to count. But before we go, let’s grab some corn dogs.” The other four followed Tae’s suit and left the boat. It struck you as odd how they trusted his word so easily. What could he have sensed, anyways? Your bloodlust?

Whatever. Now that they’re gone, I’d like to actually enjoy the ride this time.

Finally, you had the back row to yourself again, and you savored every moment of it.

––––

“Hey guys, can we not go in?” Soobin clutched his queasy stomach at the sight of the waterpark installment, shuddering as he recalled his near-death encounter in deep water as a kid.

“Are you scared because you almost drowned in the kiddie pool when you were five because your safety float deflated?” Taehyun asked, a little too loudly. It earned him a few glances from other people in the queue.

“Shut up! That did not happen!”

“Okay, but aren’t you kinda too old to be scared of water? To be fair, you’re over 180cm and the water here is barely a meter high.”

“Still! I don’t like cold water.” He frowned. “Can we please go somewhere else?”

“Like where?”

“We-we could go watch the circus performances!”

“No thank you. Animals in cages make me sad, and I didn’t come here to be sad,” Tae replied. “We could go watch that magic show at 7 o’clock if you want.”

“But that’s at seven!”

“You can wait for us if you want, grab an ice cream while you wait.” Kai suggested, at a crossroads between going on the waterslide and keeping his friend company. Luckily for Soobin, Kai being the good kid he was, he chose friendship. “I could stay with you if you want to go somewhere else, we’ll have them give us a call when they’re done over here.”

“Okay!” the aquaphobic replied immediately, shooting dirty looks at the three boys that chose to stay in line. Linking arms, the two set off to find the ice cream stand.

After picking up their ice creams, they wandered through the fairground without any particular destination. After a while of “Oooh, let’s go into the Mirror Maze!” “No, that one has a shorter line!” and “Oh, look! A bread stand!”, the two boys had worn themselves out with their own antics. Or maybe it was just Kai who felt drained, because his counterpart seemed perky as ever, now munching on his fifth carbohydrate snack. The boy sighed wearily as he reclined in a rickety plastic chair, taking a sip of his overly sweet lemonade.

Staring off into the distance, he suddenly noticed a young boy sitting on a haystack staring him dead in the eyes. The child looked about seven years old, his curly brown hair parted in the middle. Slowly, the corners of his mouth turned upwards without the slightest twitch in the rest of his expression. His eyes didn’t match his smile. Kind of creepy, but then again, kids are weird. Yet something felt off.

“Bro, these nachos are so good! I’m too full to finish it, you want the rest?”

“Psst!” Huening Kai tapped his hyung’s arm quickly and nodded in the direction of the boy. “Look at that kid. Don’t you think he looks kinda cree—”

“Hmm?”

“Wait– where’d he go?” The haystack the boy had been sitting on appeared untouched; not even the slightest buttprint remained. It was as if he’d disapparated. “That’s weird.”

“Oh, right! Tae just texted me saying that they were done over there. We’re going back to meet with them. Let’s go!”

“Alright,” Kai responded, sparing a few last glances before leaving. Call it a gut feeling, but something told him that this wasn’t the last time he’d see this child.

———

chapter one finally out! the original chapter was supposed to be around 7.6k words, but we had to cut it because it was too long 😬😬😬 thank you for reading :)

hmm, i wonder who that mysterious child is?

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vulpesse-arc · 5 years ago

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— BASICS.

▸ IS YOUR MUSE TALL / SHORT / AVERAGE ? Ahri is 158cm ( considering the height of her ears ) , so I suppose you could say that she’s indeed onto the shorter side of the height spectrum.

▸ ARE THEY OKAY WITH THEIR HEIGHT ? She honestly doesn’t really care ! Height has never been a problem for her, not was her physical appearance ever downgraded or offended because of such a tiny detail.

▸ WHAT’S THEIR HAIR LIKE ? Dark sapphire, almost the same color of the dusky cerulean. Usually wavy, if not even messily curly due to the fact that she tends to allow it to slowly dry naturally rather than using any artificial tool ; she takes great care of it thanks to self-made oils and herbal creams, which ensures that each lock is as silken as it could ever be. It reaches down below her waist when curly, so when it’s wet, it indeed goes further than that.

▸ DO THEY SPEND A LOT OF TIME ON THEIR HAIR / GROOMING ? Oh, of course she does ! Ahri’s beauty is her primary and most powerful weapon so she tends to take care of every single detail of her physique with extreme care, thus spending even hours in pursuance of ensuring that she’s as perfect as she could ever be. If you also consider the hours she spends in order to groom her precious tails, thus brushing the fur and removing any dead hair only to afterwards moisten them with saccharine perfumes, then it’s indeed a lot of time.

▸ DOES YOUR MUSE CARE ABOUT THEIR APPEARANCE / WHAT OTHERS THINK ? She does !! Not because she has a fragile ego or because she needs to be reassured by others, simply because she knows that beauty can allow her to easily reach the majority of her goals, thus achieving feats that would otherwise require a lot of effort. Aside from very necessary opinions over her physical appearance, Ahri does not really care about what others might think or feel ( both in general and of her ) .

— PREFERENCES.

▸ INDOORS OR OUTDOORS ? ▸ RAIN OR SUNSHINE ? ▸ FOREST OR BEACH ? ▸ PRECIOUS METALS OR GEMS ? ▸ FLOWERS OR PERFUMES ? ▸ PERSONALITY OR APPEARANCE ? ▸ BEING ALONE OR BEING IN A CROWD ? ▸ ORDER OR ANARCHY ? ▸ PAINFUL TRUTHS OR WHITE LIES ? ▸ SCIENCE OR MAGIC ? ▸ PEACE OR CONFLICT ? ▸ NIGHT OR DAY ? ▸ DUSK OR DAWN ? ▸ WARMTH OR COLD ? ▸ MANY ACQUAINTANCES OR A FEW CLOSE FRIENDS ? ▸ READING OR PLAYING A GAME ?

— QUESTIONNAIRE.

▸ WHAT ARE SOME OF YOUR MUSE’S BAD HABITS ? Ahri tends to lie a lot, oftentimes without even realizing that she’s indeed rolling saccharine lies rather than truths ‘pon her tongue. Aside from this, she tends to be painfully lazy and usually waits until the very last moment before completing a task. Does murder count as a bad habit?

▸ HAS YOUR MUSE LOST ANYONE CLOSE TO THEM ? HOW HAS IT AFFECTED THEM ? I believe that the Artist was the closest person that she has ever had. Due to the fact that his death was caused by her ( she literally devoured his soul and he refused to stop her because he was in love with her ) and by the bestial hunger that she was unable to tame and keep under control, Ahri has subsequently harbored a very twisted vision of what love is supposed to be: even now, after centuries have passed since his death, she does not allow her heart to beat for another person and would rather shy away from any type of attachment rather than getting directly involved. Even though this self-imposed loneliness is indeed killing her from the inside, she’s much too terrified of the idea of accidentally hurting someone she cares about.

▸ WHAT ARE SOME FOND MEMORIES YOUR MUSE HAS ? She remembers how happy she was, when she still lived with the pack of foxes that adopted her after her parents abandoned her. Back then, life was much easier and the entirety of her existence simply revolved around mere survival: sleep, hunt, eat and then sleep again, only to repeat this same cycle over and over again. Aside from this, she does retain some happy memories from her time with the Artist: due to the fact that he was a traveler, he would oftentimes indulge her with tales about his adventures and travels, while also teaching her how to paint and giving her little notions about the history of arts. Although some of these memories have been eaten by the greedy flowers in the Garden of Forgetting, she now tends to desperately clings into those blurred fragments that she has managed to save.

▸ IS IT EASY FOR YOUR MUSE TO KILL ? Absolutely. Although she indulges in murder less often than she used to, Ahri doesn’t really sympathize with the victim: it must be remembered at all times that she’s more animal than woman, which means that she sees murder as nothing more than the unavoidable consequence of the food chain. When her kills are performed for food rather than for self-defense, she tends to honor the corpse with flowers and leaves of gold.

▸ WHAT’S IT LIKE WHEN YOUR MUSE BREAKS DOWN ? She doesn’t easily break down and when it happens, it’s like witnessing an animal that has completely gone mad. She loses control over her powers, thus unconsciously summoning flurries of phantom flames all around and burning anything/anyone who might try to reach out to her. Ahri doesn’t cry easily and tends to usually suffocate all unwanted feelings inside which, obviously, eventually leads to moments of pure madness and violence.

▸ IS YOUR MUSE CAPABLE OF TRUSTING SOMEONE WITH THEIR LIFE ?

No. I suppose that it might indeed happen if she were to meet the right person who could conquer not only her heart but also her trust, but Ahri is far from being the trusting type - Mostly because she’s indeed not capable of being loyal and trustworthy, so she wouldn’t easily put herself in the position of being betrayed.

▸ WHAT’S YOUR MUSE LIKE WHEN THEY’RE IN LOVE ?

Ahri has always used words and actions to lure her preys towards her so expressing real love is something that she has yet to grow accustomed to. Rather than being openly vocal about it, she would probably demonstrate it with little gestures, such as initiating physical contact and crawling into the other person’s arms in pursuance of resting there, thus forgetting about the entirety of the world all around. I believe that she would also be very protective ! If the other person ever needed sentimental assistance or even physical protection, she wouldn’t hesitate to give it her all in order to ensure that her beloved one is safe. Get you a girlfriend that will tear your enemies to pieces just for you !

tagged by : @putrefactie , thank you so much ! ♡ tagging : @thecosmicsen , @scendant , @verumking , @blossomingbeelzebug , @carniebalism , @voidivide , @citialiin , @quartlet , @infernoath , @bhaarga , @daanshoor , @shadowhelmed , @pristinette , @kissafist , anyone else who’d like to do this ! :)

#.• ❤ ─ ▸ love CHANGING shape each day. ╱ ❪ ﹠ study 08 ─ hcs games ❫

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dvrkprinces · 5 years ago

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&&. ( luca d'amore ) was just spotted in amsterdam. rumor has it ( he ) is a ( 519 / physically 35 ) year old ( fallen angel ) who resembles ( henry cavill ). ( he ) has been said to be ( confident & protective ) but also quite ( hot-headed & promiscuous ). with all the chaos surrounding the magical underworld, he has chosen to align with ( the fallen angels ). ( he ) is currently serving as ( co-leader of the fallen angels / co-owner of the inferno club ). hopefully the city doesn’t devour them whole.

— ❝ sex is about power.❞

( hi there, kiwi here! this is the official intro for my cocky, self-indulgent asshole, luca d’amore. he’s a character close to my heart, and i’m particularly excited to see him come to life as a fallen angel. needless to say, i want all of the connections for him! please let me know if you’d like to plot; i’m available through both the group’s discord and tumblr ims. ♡ )

name: luca nicola d’amore

birthplace: florence, italy

birthday: september 12th | virgo

scents: mint oil, italian lemon, green apple, geranium flower, amber, vanilla, vetiver, moss, cedarwood, spices + ( signature cologne: eros - versace )

appearance: 6′3″ with a strong, muscular build honed from centuries of priming his body for power, battle, and sex. luca has spent much of his immortality physically and mentally pushing himself to impossible limits in order to be the best of the best, and as such, his physique is a strong reflection of that. luca has dark brown hair with a tendency to grow wavy and curly if not properly cared for. he can go with or without a beard, but prefers to keep one nice and groomed for personal preference.

luca is definitely a fan of finely-tailored suits and expensive, designer clothing; as he now lives a lavish lifestyle, he likes to make sure his appearance reflects as much. after growing up poor and in an entirely different era, luca is a self-made member of the fallen who enjoys splurging on himself.

personality: ( + ) intelligent, protective, crafty, disciplined, serious, ambitious ( - ) emotionally distant, possessive, distrusting, stern, cunning

biography: luca was born in the great city of florence, italy, at the turn of the sixteenth century; his mother, arabella, was an angel of light who began an affair with a poor human man by the name of adriano. she was the daughter of a great archangel war general, and he a humble artist who hoped to study under some of the burgeoning greats of the italian renaissance. they fell passionately in love, to the point where his angelic mother gave up her immortality to be with the mortal man she loved upon discovering she was carrying his child. unfortunately, this resulted in a painful and difficult childbirth--one she did not manage to live through. overwhelmed with grief and misplaced hatred towards his son for “causing” the death of his beloved, luca’s father cast him out and abandoned the boy to the streets, claiming hardship as he pressed his small, bright-eyed boy into hands of the local workhouse that hid supernatural children. they glamoured his wings, which were a soft grey rather than white, and disguised him as a normal child milling about italia.

after that, the streets raised luca.

tossed around through workhouses, foster homes, and apprenticeships to afford room and board for much of his young life, luca had to learn how to take care of himself. it was through the negligence of adults surrounding him that luca grew reckless and selfish; he was crafty and intelligent, innovative and careless. he took what he wanted when he wanted it, causing friction and tension with those who took him in over the years. luca cared very little for his schooling and apprenticeships, wishing instead to use his insight and intelligence to apply directly to life itself. he became involved with local street gangs and crews around the bustling italian city, hearing murmurs of the world beyond florence--of supernatural creatures who hunted humans in the dead of night and whispered in the shadows. and sometimes, when luca would glance at himself in a puddle or a passing mirror, he could still see the shadowy reflection of his wings protruding from his backside.

his heart had grown stony and cold, and as he grew older and the angels of light continually refused to claim him as one of their own, luca felt rage.

deciding that he was tired of waiting for the world to want him, luca d’amore decided he would make people need him. he shed the soft grey down of his wings in replacement of large, black wings, a physical trait that manifested when he became a young man and decided that paradise had no space for him, but he could reign in hell all the while. luca ripped apart the world of florence as he knew it, gathering the strength of fellow angels and supernaturals who had been in hiding in the mortal world and claiming what he felt was rightfully owed to him. along the way, he met and teamed up with raphael crossborne, an angel of light whose desires had manifested into something just as dark and sinister as his own...and together, the two of them fell and created a kingdom for themselves.

though he was a halfling, luca made up for the impurity of his human side by being ruthless, shameless, and depraved; he clawed, pushed, shoved, and scraped his way up the ranks, demanding a place of authority and respect over his peers. now, five hundred years later, he maintains one of the co-leaders of the fallen angels and an owner of the inferno burlesque and bdsm club. clients from every walk of life can enter and drench themselves in debauchery and sin, sometimes at the price of striking a bargain with luca, raphael, or any of the other high-ranking fallen angels traipsing about the establishment.

luca is a man who takes what he wants with an iron fist; he chooses to emotionally distance himself, having never grown up in a nurturing environment or with positive role models or family, and as such, projects himself through sex. namely, through that of his full-time submissive, little angel baby doefoot. a dancer at his club and the younger sister of his co-partner raphael, luca and baby maintain a secret, sordid relationship with each other. it’s likely raphael would try and rip luca in half if he knew the scandalous things he got up to with his baby sister, but, well...old habits die hard, and luca continues to do whatever he wants to whoever he wants. though he has no idea of baby’s genuine feelings for him, she has become his go to in several facets, from raking in extra cash at the burlesque club to being the most dependable and loyal of his staff. he values her, even if he doesn’t fully understand in what capacity.

wanted connections: i’m open to hear whatever you have to throw at me! i’d love some frenemies, friends, childhood rivals, business partners, mortal enemies, etc. !!

#LUCA //#wings and shadows: ( intro )#abandonment tw #trauma tw #nhqintro

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snakeley · 5 years ago

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STUDY : Anthony J. Crowley. TAGGED BY : @slvrlnce ( thank you, lovely !! )

— BASICS.

▸ IS YOUR MUSE TALL / SHORT / AVERAGE ? This snake is towering ever so slightly above the average, standing at 185 cm // 6′4. Not even his general slouchiness can conceal the noodle-ish length of his Serpent body

▸ ARE THEY OKAY WITH THEIR HEIGHT ? Perfect height to kiss the frowny little spot between Aziraphale’s eyebrows. He’s got a fondness for heels of all dimensions, so he’s often making himself quite a bit taller just because he can.

▸ WHAT’S THEIR HAIR LIKE ?

Red velvet dough become hair. A dark, luscious wine-colour that lights up with a copper tint in the sun. Goes from sticky-up to curly to wavy the longer he allows it to grow. He likes it best past shoulder length.

▸ DO THEY SPEND A LOT OF TIME ON THEIR HAIR / GROOMING ? Usually, exactly the time it takes to perform a minor miracle. Don’t judge him, he’s a reptile and prone to laziness. Most days, Crowley will simply wish his hair into a nice state. On the rare occasions he can be arsed to fix it up personally, it’s definitely because he’s out to impress Aziraphale.

▸ DOES YOUR MUSE CARE ABOUT THEIR APPEARANCE / WHAT OTHERS THINK ? Greatly so. Of all the various joys of Earth, Crowley’s always had a decidedly soft spot for exploring fashion, different personal styles, and new designer Looques™. He won’t let himself be seen in disarray, not even by his house plants.

— PREFERENCES.

▸ INDOORS OR OUTDOORS ? both have their merits. ▸ RAIN OR SUNSHINE ? sunshine. ▸ FOREST OR BEACH ? forest. ▸ PRECIOUS METALS OR GEMS ? precious metals. ▸ FLOWERS OR PERFUMES ? flowers. ▸ PERSONALITY OR APPEARANCE ? personality. ▸ BEING ALONE OR BEING IN A CROWD ? being alone. ▸ ORDER OR ANARCHY ? anarchy. ▸ PAINFUL TRUTHS OR WHITE LIES ? painful truths. ▸ SCIENCE OR MAGIC ? magic. ▸ PEACE OR CONFLICT ? peace. ▸ NIGHT OR DAY ? night. ▸ DUSK OR DAWN ? dawn. ▸ WARMTH OR COLD ? warmth. ▸ MANY ACQUAINTANCES OR A FEW CLOSE FRIENDS ? Aziraphale. ▸ READING OR PLAYING A GAME ? playing a game.

— QUESTIONNAIRE.

▸ WHAT ARE SOME OF YOUR MUSE’S BAD HABITS ? Well, he’s a demon. What would qualify as a bad habit to any other person is a virtue of the highest honour to him - carefully cultivated to achieve utmost negativity, too. Among his favourite are a facade of perpetual grumpiness, repeated violations of all and any imaginable traffic regulations, century-long depression naps, hair-raisingly atrocious word plays, and a complete inability to fit in, no matter which way he turns.

▸ HAS YOUR MUSE LOST ANYONE CLOSE TO THEM ? HOW HAS IT AFFECTED THEM ? Quite a few humans he grew close to over the millennia; mostly young and confused souls he furtively sheltered beneath his wing, knowing better than to allow himself to like them ( or so he insists ). Above all other losses, the most painful one was certainly being exiled from the community of angels --- losing love, losing home, losing his personal value, losing God, losing all he had ever known and watching what remained of his former family turn either into enemies or depravity. Losing Aziraphale. The only thing that came close was the belief that Aziraphale had burned with his bookshop.

▸ WHAT ARE SOME FOND MEMORIES YOUR MUSE HAS ? His first meeting with Aziraphale. Any meeting with Aziraphale after that. Aziraphale throughout the ages. Aziraphale smiling at him. Aziraphale devouring cakes - yes, plural, and yes, whole. The invention and evolution of cars. The first time he hid in a roadside shrub with a bank note tied to a piece of string, waiting for an unsuspecting passerby. Aziraphale.

▸ IS IT EASY FOR YOUR MUSE TO KILL ? Never will be, never has been. In fact, Crowley chooses murder as an absolute last resort, and even if he is forced to end another life, he will not do so directly, but choose instead to set traps into which the victim will walk only due to their own ill intent.

▸ WHAT’S IT LIKE WHEN YOUR MUSE BREAKS DOWN ? Undignified and not pretty. Crowley turns to alcohol and sleep to soothe his heartaches, sometimes teetering on the brink of insanity and self-destruction, driven by anxiety, feverish desperation, and a frenzy that ends up numbing him and eating him alive from the inside out.

▸ IS YOUR MUSE CAPABLE OF TRUSTING SOMEONE WITH THEIR LIFE ? Only one very particular angel.

▸ WHAT’S YOUR MUSE LIKE WHEN THEY’RE IN LOVE ? Contrary to popular opinion, Crowley’s entire being is love. His love for Aziraphale is his soul, his essence, it permeates everything he does and says and thinks. He is unwavering in his love, unrelenting, fast-paced and greedy for every morsel of reciprocation he can get. A curious thing, that, since Crowley knows (or thinks he knows) that it’s in his very NATURE to be unlovable; yet he will go to the greatest lengths to receive any gesture of fondness and companionship from Aziraphale. His love is greedy but frugal, diligently keeping itself alive but striving for an answer. It’s so deeply entwined with Crowley’s character, he couldn’t exist without it.

TAGGING: @romanticaffair, @bansheeintuition, @citialiin, @inmydrcams ( Fleur? ), @rottm, @dxspereaux ( Thoth? ), @handsigned, YOU !!

#♫ beelzebub has a devil put aside for me ( serpent ) ♫#♫ good old fashioned loverboy ( headcanons ) ♫

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alien-from-pluto-writer · 6 years ago

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You think you can hide it - you can’t.

Apologies if the ending is terrible - my mental state collapsed. Anyway, enjoy @alexprompts !

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

The Wind tells me things no man nor woman was meant to know. Of secrets and whispered lies, it hummed in my ear, filling my body with warmth at its recurring presence. The Wind was an old friend, and I loved it like one.

Spying in the courts of kingdoms filled my brain with drugs so powerful it took hours to come down from the high. The thrill was enchanting - eyes always watchful, taking everything in, and heart constantly pounding beneath my ribs.

Lurking in a darkened corner, I watched as two women weaved through the crowd towards each other. At least they weren’t complete idiots and made small conversations on the way, small diversions that hid their goals to everyone’s eyes but mine.

A true scandal, especially for this kingdom where those of the same gender may not share a bed nor tongues. The act of their ‘defying of ancient tradition and stepping into hell’ would surely cause a divide within the empire.

Shocking how something as simple as love could be twisted into the strongest weapon against an empire.

They slowly made their way to each other, slight blushes on their cheeks, shy smiles quickly hidden by bitten lips. If this were a dramatic moment, they would’ve leapt at each other, sweeping each other into their arms, twirling and spinning as they kissed and were re-united.

But it wasn’t, and the Wind told me they were aware of the ever watchful eyes around them – hard not to when men constantly peered at women they passed as if imagining what was hidden beneath their dresses.

It was an almost awkward thing to watch, the two lovers stood for a moment unsure what to do, before giving each other what I’m sure they thought was a quick, friendly hug. They parted after a few moments, one of the women’s hands lingering on the other’s waist before they realised what they were doing and pulled it away.

A man walked a distant away from me, weaving his way through people with a glass of champagne in his hand. His dark hair was slick back, wearing a black suit that made him appear more muscled than he actually was. His grey eyes watched me with a look that told anyone nearby exactly what he wanted to do to me.

Not safe, Wind whispered, concerned perhaps.

As he came closer, walking close enough I could smell his cologne, I put my foot out and merely watched as he stumbled. Sadly, he didn’t fall on his face, regaining his footing in time, turning to face me with angry eyes. I smiled widely and snorted when he stomped away like an incompetent child.

I turned back to the lovers.

“How is Jack?” one asked – Florence, the Wind whispered – brushing a strand of wavy blond hair out of her face, and discreetly smoothing down her elegant light blue dress. Her pale skin was still slightly flushed and her eyes took in the other with dedication.

“He’s doing great, he misses you dearly,” the other – Lena – said, grinning. Her black hair was pulled into an elegant bun, dark skin glowing under the chandelier lights. Her red dress fitted around her bodice before it flowed to the ground.

Lena’s face lit up with what could only be an idea, Florence watching carefully, a sweet smile appearing on her mouth. “We should have lunch again so that you can see him.”

“That would be lovely,” Florence said, chuckling slightly under her breath as if she expected it to be something more extreme. “I don’t know how I’ll be able to survive without seeing his handsome face.”

The Wind tells me that the man standing near them listening thinks they’re talking about a lover, of how Jack must be the love of her life that she would rather die than be without. He thinks he’s smart for putting it together.

That makes me want to laugh.

He’s right in the regards that Florence loves Jack dearly and her life would be miserable without him, but not about who this Jack is. If only he knew they were talking about a dog rather than a human.

Florence and Lena continue talking as they make their way to one of the archways leading to the castles halls, each grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray. Their grins are infectious to each other, their eyes shining and full of unspoken promises and desires.

I look away when they slip out into the halls and go in search for an abandoned alcove. I hope that for once the Wind won’t tell me of what they’re doing.

We have more important things to worry about today, the Wind whispers, reminding me of why I’m here in the first place.

My eyes stop on a man walking in the entrance, deeply breathing in the excitement of the people gathered – an attempt to disguise how he had been running. His cheeks were red and his eyes were alight, the glass of liquor in his hand acting as an easy explanation.

It’s him, the Wind whispered. I bit my lip to hide my wild grin, my heart pounding in my chest – finally.

As he walked closer, unbeknownst to where I was, I let my eyes roam his clothes. The dark black of the fabric went with his dark brown shoulder length hair, everything embroidered with a fine gold thread only the richest could afford. His suit looked as if it were the work of a local tailor, Bathilda Gruns, elegant and charming. Only the wealthiest could afford her.

The one thing that revealed him as the true psychotic bastard beneath his mask, was a small speck of blood on the sleeve of his shirt. That, no doubt, was from the body the Wind told me had been shoved into an alcove earlier. Though what he did in-between that unfortunate turn of events and entering the ball, neither of us knew.

Strange.

The man walked in my direction, eyeing up men and women he passed like a predator stalking his prey, or perhaps his look could also be compared to a serial killer looking over his menu. There was no doubt in my mind that he was planning to kill another tonight, and it wouldn’t be long after that when he disappeared back into the swirling darkness of hiding and no one would be able to find him.

I don’t want that to happen, but they said I couldn’t interfere. What utter bullshit.

His eyes linger on a man drinking deeply from a glass of whisky with curly blond hair. The unknown man has a wide grin, his whole face practically glowing with happiness and the influence of alcohol.

The women in the alcove has blonde hair, the Wind whispers.

So he has a thing for blondes, creepy.

The Wind laughs in my ear, a soothing sensation that sends shivers down my spine.

The man continues walking, though he sends a few glances back to the blond haired man, steadily getting close to me.

I still haven’t gotten what I came here to do, and leaving without them would be idiotic and pointless. That’s not even taking into consideration the certainty of getting lectured for hours by them if I do. And their lectures make you want to simultaneously take the closest gun and shoot yourself from boredom and curl up in a ball.

I can’t leave without getting a closer look – a hand print if I’m lucky.

My heart pounded as I thought of what I was going to do – it was stupid and reckless, most likely going to end up with me shoved in an alcove with my throat slit like the other woman, but that made it all that much more fun.

You’re complete disregard for danger amuses me, the Wind whispers, and I can picture them smirking in my head. Bastard.

I step out from the edge of the room, a pitiful man startling as he just notices my presence. Gliding out among the people like a wraith, my dark blue dress swishing around my ankles, I make my way towards him.

The one thing they forgot to mention was his name. They had said it wasn’t important, an unnecessary detail that wouldn’t assist nor hinder her mission. Which, when thinking about how she had to practically befriend him and talk to him directly, made no sense.

Henry Acklson, the Wind whispers, also agitated at how little we are told.

When Henry pauses his scanning to talk to a red haired man, I walk closer, plucking a glass of whisky from a tray moving past me. I bring it to my lips, eyes looking casually around the room though I focus on what they’re saying. It’s nothing interesting – talk about new estates and gossip – though I remember it anyway for when they ask me.

I get closer to him, now only a few steps from being directly behind him, and bring the glass once again to my lips – a perfect way to hide the stupid and reckless thing I’m about to do. If they knew, I would definitely be dead.

Now directly behind him, I whisper with a deeper voice, so that only he can hear.

“I know what you did,” I see him tense from the corner of my eye as I pause to smile at a passing man. His teeth are yellow and moustache is disgusting – I choose not to look at him again.

“Henry, did you hear about Lucinda? Her mother claims she got sick again, my mother thinks she’s only doing it to get money out of Richard.” The red heads voice is shrill and sounds unnaturally like a mouse, and Henry nods along, humming his agreement.

“What a strange place to hide a body I must say,” I say again, knowing he won’t turn when he’s talking to the red head but will the moment he gets the opportunity.

Moving away from him quickly, I discard the whisky on a tray and grab a glass of champagne – a much more innocent drink that the women of this court consumed than the ever so manly whisky.

Quickly devoured by the crowd, I weave my way to the edge of the dance floor, nothing but a sweet woman swaying to herself as she watches couples dance.

He’s coming, the Wind whispers. This will be fun.

When a hand touches my arm, I jolt out of my reverie of watching the dances, turning to look. The hand is large, and veins run across the back and lead under the sleeve of his shirt, and just with one look, I know those hands have been wrapped around someone’s neck.

“Can I help you?” I ask, eyes wide in innocence and cheeks filling with a rosy blush at the contact – I throw in a quick glance at his large chest and sculpted face for good measure.

Nothing like acting innocent when you’re guilty. He’s probably familiar with that.

“I am sorry to disturb you, I was just wondering if you had said something to me earlier, I heard someone talking behind me.” His voice was smooth, a charming smile on his lips. If I wasn’t gay I’d find him attractive. Both the men and women around me send him sneaky glances from beneath their lashes or the corner of their eyes – do they really want to fuck a serial killer?

“Oh, no, I didn’t say anything, should I be flattered that you think so, sir?” I glance shyly at the ground, a small smile on my lips, eyes filled with an affection that made my insides recoil.

“I apologize, though now that I’ve started talking to you I want to continue when sadly I can’t, may I expect to see you later?” He asks, his hand on my arm starts to move up to my shoulder.

I hold back the shiver of disgust.

“Most certainly.” I blush at how desperate I sound, when all I am desperate of is to get away.

“What is your name?” he asks, sending an appreciative look at my body, “I would like a name to put to such a beautiful face”

I scream inside my head, but on the outside I blush, “Abigail, and what may your name be, sir?”

“What an exquisite name for such an exquisite woman,” he smirks as my blush deepens, “My name is Henry, and I apologise for having to cut this lovely conversation short, but there is something I must attend to.”

Probably the body, I hope it’s a pain to get the blood out of the groove of the tiles.

His hand trails down from my arm to my hand, lifting it to his mouth. He places a kiss, his lips smooth, and smiles, “Until we meet again.”

He lets go of my hand, and with a final nod and smirk, he disappears into the crowd.

I wanted so desperately to let the innocent act drop, to make the pathetic blush disappear, to wipe away the bugs that crawled on my skin from his touch – but people were watching and sending jealous looks out of the corner of their eye.

The wind whispered in my ear, telling me of Henry’s hurried footsteps towards the exit.

I shouldn’t follow him – I got what I had to – but I couldn’t stop my body moving.

I weave through people, smile and blush disappearing with each step, the mask tucked away in a far corner of my mind. Flashes of bright dresses and dark suits are like a sea whipping all around me, a dizzying tornado and whirlwind of music as it reaches its crescendo. The air is heavy under the weight of hundreds of lungs, the floor pulsing with the heart beats of lovers and loners.

The chandeliers cast shadows on the walls, cheeks of smiling women and eyes of men capturing its warm glow. Exquisite paintings of angels and demons on the ceilings grin down at me, snickering to themselves as I spot Henry.

The predator has returned to the surface, his shoulders tense and head high. He stalks through the crowd, focused on one thing – the blond haired man from before.

The blond turns the corner, sending a quick departing wave to his friends that turn the other way, unaware of the killer yapping at his heals that already is dreaming of his demise.

If I’m to do anything, it has to be now, even as stupid as it is.

I have his hand print, I’ve seen what he looks like and can identify him – my mission’s officially over. But he’s on the prowl, steadily growing close to the man he intends to kill.

I’m meant to leave, get in a carriage and ride to the hotel down the street where I can tell them everything. But that man is about to die if I don’t do anything.

Growling at my own stupidity, I turn down the corridor and in the direction of Henry and the blond haired man, hoping like hell I don’t get killed because of this.

#alexprompts #alexpromptsthewindtoldme #basically no editing #whoops #oh know theres a serial killer

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vampiricalthorns · 7 years ago

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Piercings and Pastels pt 2

Yo, so it’s finally here! Just ... 17 months too late. This is a continuation of Piercings and Pastels one-shot that I posted ages ago. There will maybe be a part 3 to this if I can be bothered to write it. I really do spend a lot of time on creating content, and even though I don’t post original stuff as often as I probably should... anyway, there’s a link to my ko-fi in my blog description if you want to support my content.

“And therefore, the sum of this equation will be …”

Will sighed, looking down at the notes he had so nicely drawn in red and black. Math class had never been of his favourites, but he was well aware that it was a subject he wanted to be good at. He did care a lot about school, even if he happened to be punk as fuck and wasn’t hesitant to have slightly questionable style choices. Will knew that his sister Kayla wanted him to have the best shot at life possible, and that was why she kept criticising his clothing.

“Mr Solace, are you paying attention?”

Will looked up sheepishly. “What?”

“I asked you if you could be so nice to tell us the answer on the blackboard.” The teacher was glaring down on him, and Will could have a fair guess that he was not too happy with Will’s inattention.

Will looked at him, and then to the board. Realising he had not solved the equation, he caught Nico’s look and peeked into his notebook for the answer. “X is 8, and Y is 4.5.”

The teacher looked at him for a minute before nodding. “That’s correct Mr Solace, but please refrain from spacing out in my classes in the future.”

Will ruffled his hair and looked up at the big Starbucks symbol hanging over the entrance door. He took a deep breath and walked inside, being ambushed by the warm, coffee-scented air as opposed to the slightly chillier outside weather that did not smell like coffee. He had agreed earlier that week to meet Nico at the Starbucks so that they could work through their ridiculous amounts of math homework. Will was taking a fair guess that their teacher was not terribly happy with how inattentive his class actually was to his teaching.

“Hi, Will! Over here!” Will heard someone call from further inside the store. He looked around for the black mop of wavy hair that belonged to his now best friend. Today, Nico was dressed in pastel galaxy leggings, the same brown boots as he had worn the last couple weeks and an oversized pink knit sweater.

He slung himself into the chair opposite Nico. “What’s up?”

Nico smiled- the type of smile where he closed his eyes and held his hands up to his chest as if he was about to flap them. Will thought that was oddly cute. “Not much. Work’s drowning us as usual, but at least that’s an excuse to be productive.”

Will nodded. “Should I go get something to drink while you figure out exactly what we should do today and what we can wait with for later in the week?”

Having Nico’s nod of approval, Will put his bag down and got up. Placing himself at the back of the line, he looked over at where Nico was reading in his planner while pushing a strand of hair behind his ear. The purple hair clips didn’t look like they were there for anything than decoration. Cute.

He had only known Nico for a little under two weeks now, but it felt like they had been friends for way longer than that. He was like a missing childhood friend Will had only just met again, but he knew that was impossible. Will let a small smile slip as he looked up at the menu for what to get. Nico seemed like a hot chocolate person. Or maybe a Frappuccino.

“One Coffee Mocha and one Hot Chocolate please,” he told the barista, who nodded and then told him the sum of what he had to pay. After paying, he stepped to the side and looked out of the window.

They were just a couple weeks into the school year, but Will didn’t feel overworked like he usually did. Will had easily fallen into the routine of working along with Nico, who had surprisingly good control of schoolwork and when stuff was due.

“What did you get me?” Nico asked curiously when Will came back to the table and put down two cups. Will looked at him, suddenly slightly anxious that he had gotten the wrong thing for his friend. “You didn’t specify what you wanted, so I just got you hot chocolate. Was that okay?”

Nico looked surprised for the fraction of a second before grabbing the cup with both of his hands and smiling up at Will- the same adorable scrunched-up eyes smile that made Will’s legs just the tiniest bit weaker. No, we will not fall for this person now, William, even though you already did, you dumb fuck.

“Thank you, Will,” Nico said earnestly. “I thought you were going to get me coffee, but hot chocolate is just as okay. Really. I enjoy hot chocolate too.”

Will sat down again and thought for a moment before pushing his cup of coffee over to where Nico was sitting. “You can have a sip or two if you need caffeine. That’s really okay. I don’t mind sharing at all.”

“It’s a nice apartment you got,” Nico commented after Will had locked himself into his and Kayla’s apartment. It was later in the day, and Will had invited Nico over for food and video games- if Nico was up to video games of course. In the back of his mind, Will was very well aware of all the boxes still unpacked in their apartment.

“Thanks,” Will replied, throwing his keys into the bowl on the small table they kept in the hallway. It was filled with what looked like Kayla’s asthma medication (Will knew she kept one in her bag too, so she was good, a pack of chewing gum and what looked like post:it notes and pens. “It’s a bit messy since we only moved in here like three weeks ago.”

Nico shrugged. “It doesn’t bother me. It’s not like my home is pristine at all times too. We’re all human, Will.”

Will snorted and flashed Nico a creepy grin, one that made his lip piercing glint in the hallway light. “Are you sure about that, di Angelo? For all you know, I could be a demon preparing to steal and devour your soul.”

Feeling accomplished that he had made Nico laugh, Will made his way into the kitchen to get a glass of water. He hadn’t had enough to drink that day, and to be entirely honest, he was aware that his head was not too happy about that. “Do you want a glass of water too, Nico?”

He turned around when he heard the sound of soft socks moving over the laminate floor. There was Nico, hands hidden inside the oversized sweater and dragging his feet across the floor. His feet- clad with soft purple socks. What an adorable person.

He didn’t hear Nico’s answer. “What did you say again?”

Nico laughed again. “No, it’s okay, Will. Yes, I would like a glass of water, thank you.”

Will turned around again and grabbed a glass, filling it with water from the tap, trying his best to hide his blush. He was sure that the water was safe to drink.

“Thank you for helping me out with homework today,” Will mentioned as he handed Nico the glass. “I’m a horrible procrastinator unless someone kicks my butt the entire time I’m working.”

He put down his glass next to the sink and looked at Nico. “I need to go to the bathroom, but I will be right back. If you want, you can wait in my room. Second to the right down the hallway.”

Having Nico’s nod of approval, he left the kitchen, walked down the hallway and into the bathroom, sinking down against the wall with a sigh. He was falling. Hard.

Why am I doing this to myself? Will thought desperately, staring at himself in the mirror. Staring back at him was a teenager with faded red-dyed hair, piercings and a black band merch hoodie. It had been through the wash so many times that it was impossible to read exactly which band it was. He knew though, and somehow Nico had too. My Chemical Romance was always recognisable.

Deciding that he had stayed long enough in the bathroom for it to be convincing that he hadn’t just contemplated 666 ways of isolating himself from the world because he was an emotional little shit, Will flushed the toilet and left the room. He took yet another deep breath before walking into his bedroom, where Nico was sitting on his office chair. “You look like a child when you swing your legs back and forth like that.”

Nico rummaged through his pockets and dug out a lollipop, ripping off the wrapper before sticking it into his mouth. “Do you mind that?” The look he sent Will made Will’s heart skip a beat. How dare you be so adorable you little shit. This is unfair because I really want to kiss you but what if you don’t want to kiss me. This is kinda awkward.

“Not really no,” Will admitted, slumping down on his bed, shielding his eyes from the harsh bedroom ceiling light. “I can’t handle all the light. Nico, protect me!”

Nico sighed, kicking Will’s shin with one of his floofy-socks-clad feet. “Oi, you’ll survive. Get over it. It’s not like the ceiling light will give you a sunburn or anything like that.”

Will looked at him through the curly dark red fringe. “Are you honestly sure about that? Don’t test me here, I can manage everything if I try hard enough.”

“Sure, because you can fly. I’ll believe it when I see it, Solace,” Nico said, not quite able to hide the smile and giggles.

Will didn’t even reply to that as he stared at Nico, wondering what he was supposed to do with himself if Nico continued to act like the cutest person alive. God damn it, he wasn’t supposed to deal with complicated feelings like this. Love really was a weird thing.

He coughed, trying to clear his throat, although there was nothing to clear. “Is there anything, in particular, you want to eat? I can order pizza.”

Nico nodded. “No, pizza sounds good. I don’t eat it a lot, but pizza is always good.”

After discussing back and forth for a couple minutes trying to find something they both liked, they settled for something along the lines of ham and mushrooms (neither of them liked the mushrooms, but they were always peel-off-able so it wasn’t an issue.)

They ate the pizza discussing different tv shows they had watched recently, but it quickly turned into a heavy debate and rant about the shitty teachers at school.

“The English teacher, Mr Reynolds, is shit,” Nico argued. “He’s always mean to me because my English isn’t perfect and he hates Italians for a reason I don’t even understand. I think his life goal is to see me fail, although I wish him good luck with that since I manage to score well on every single test.”

“He’s not the best, no,” Will agreed. “But the history teacher is worse. Or, the worst, Blackwell, math. He’s the nightmare of nightmares. I don’t like him at all. Especially with the amount of homework he sent us home with this week.”

Nico nodded, a piece of cheese hanging out from the side of his mouth. Will had to fight the urge to remove it. “That was ridiculous. He can’t expect that much of us this early in the term.”

“Well, apparently he doesn’t care that we have to sit an hour longer every night solving equations and trig questions,” Will muttered, staring towards his backpack that was on the couch, containing the damned math homework they had barely made a dent in. “I need to go buy more paper Monday afternoon. I’m out of grid loose leaf paper after all the homework.”

“I can give you some if you remind me tomorrow night to put some more in my backpack,” Nico offered around a giant piece of pizza. “Should last you through Monday at least so that you can go after school and get more. I can come with you if you want to. I need to get more whiteout anyways so I might as well get it done then so I can stop borrowing yours all the time.”

Secretly, Will hadn’t minded that Nico had borrowed his whiteout, even though he was running low too. It wasn’t like both of them wrote everything perfectly on the first try.

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Will! We-el! I’m here! Behind you!” Nico shoved his way through the school corridor calling for Will. “Will! You big emo oaf, stop so I can catch up to you!”

Will turned and looked down, where he saw a pastel figure fight his way through the sea of navy and beige trying to get to him. He motioned towards the door in the gesture of “I will meet you outside so I don’t get killed by the rest of year 10 for causing a clot in the school circulatory system.

Will quickly got out of the door and closed the flap on his bag while waiting for Nico. He had barely lasted through the day, being out of whiteout (he had given the very rest to Nico and resorted to writing with pencil most of the day which he typically didn’t like but it was worth it), but he had somehow managed. He had remembered to bring his wallet (a personal achievement in his opinion, considering how forgetful he usually was) and his crush on Nico was (as always) very present.

He looked at Nico fighting his way out of the mob of students either getting to a new class or leaving and smirked.

“Are you okay there, Nic?” Will said, teasingly bending down to the same height as Nico’s offended face. He knew that Nico was sensitive about his height, and truth be told, Will loved teasing him about it.

Nico scoffed and crossed his arms. “Don’t call me that.”

Will just laughed and ran his hand through his hair before staring in the general direction of the bus stop. “So, do you wanna go to the tiny bookstore around here somewhere and get paper and whiteout or do you wanna go to the city and get what we need and some coffee afterwards?”

Nico smiled up at him. “That sounds nice.”

And Will melted slightly inside.

#solangelo #nico di angelo #will solace #pjo #hoo #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #percy jackson #riordanverse #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #pastel punk au #pastel!nico #punk!will

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homesteadchronicles · 6 years ago

Note

It’s not Thursday, but I feel that I must ask a question. Perhaps multiple. I have been devouring your Kingdom Come posts, and have a strong urge to add my illustration skills (slim as they are) to your beautiful world. What do your favorites look like? What do they wear? What lovely sun-bathed situation are we likely to find them in?

First off, please always feel complete freedom to ask questions any day of the week! I, unfortunately, only have times to answer them on Thursdays more often than not. But anyone can shoot me an ask or a message whenever they want to!

Secondly, oh my goodness yes please that would make my entire life!!! Seriously, I saw this message after a very overwhelming day and the thought that someone would want to make art for something I’ve written about? That’s a dream come true, and it couldn’t have been a more timely encouragement to me. So thank you, thank you, thank you for even considering doing so! I’m beyond grateful that you’ve been enjoying all that I’ve been releasing about Kingdom Come, and even more thankful that you’d wish to bring it to life.

Full disclosure: I…kind of suck at character descriptions. Weird, right? For whatever reason, I just am not good at designing what a character looks like, despite my own love of fashion. I spent the night you sent me this making an (admittedly jumbled) list of ideas I had for five out of my seven protagonists, since those were the ones I had the clearest vision on. Feel free to include or exclude whatever details you so choose! I don’t mind you taking any artistic liberties you feel so inclined to take. Draw whatever, whoever and however you like!

Royan: Being born and raised in the frigid North, he has pale skin, often chapped or calloused from spending days outside in training or on missions. Royan might be reluctant to admit it, but Oeden’s all too eager to out Royan as a pretty boy. Thus, he spends a good chunk of time every morning fluffing his hair, golden blonde like his mother. It’s about medium-length, often brushed back - you know, typical male model style. As the temperatures in Aeonor are oftentimes below freezing, he has to bundle up. Probably a fancy tunic, a fur cape (a trophy from the first hunt he and his father, Kaiser Magnus, went on together - sewn from the hide of his prize, by the hands of his sister, Eirys), with a brooch clasping it together in the shape of a wolf. He’s a little lanky, still fully growing into the form of a man, but starting to at least work out with his muscles - mostly to impress people. Lightly toned muscularly, generally skinny, with soft, rounded features. Always wearing a goofy smile. Keeps his longsword at his side more often than not, but conveniently “forgets” to wear his crown - a silver circlet than encircles his head (and makes his head itch). His color scheme primarily sticks with grey bases and accents of purple and blue. On his right hand is the symbol of life.

Medea: Medea has surprisingly strong facial features. She has a pronounced chin, full lips, and, while not chubby by any means, has a healthy amount of meat on her bones. She has a full head of wavy black hair that falls to her chest, often adorned with a golden crown. As is customary for the Al-Hassian people, she has dark skin, burnt by the desert (think more Arabian, not African). Medea’s primary colors are ruby red and gold. Her most iconic outfit would be the red ballroom gown she wears to the Feast of the Five Kings, complete with a chunky golden necklace featuring a set of rubies in the center. She wears a more casual version of this outfit with a flowign red robe under a black undershirt and pants, and a golden sash. For shoes, she prefers heels, but can be found in cozy yellow slippers when lounging about, too. When showing off or in combat, Medea wears a golden gauntlet with a pauldron like a roaring lion at the left shoulder. On her left hand is the symbol of death. Often wearing an obnoxious amount of bangles and rings. Not for any magical purpose, just because she’s gaudy and likes everyone to know it.

Kasumi: Somehow, Kasumi manages to be even paler than Royan. Although her nation’s people can range from light-skinned to lightly-tanned, her time spent almost exclusively in the shadows has made her seem viable to disappear at any moment. Kasumi has not cut her hair in years, leaving it floor-length when not tied back. Her hair, however, is incurably straight and a bit frizzy. Kasumi keeps her hair up in a bun or in braids when working, but lets her hair down when she’s comfortable…which is only when she’s alone in her room. On the job, Kasumi wears a mask, as is customary for the Shadows. Her mask takes the form of a butterfly (akin to Lucina’s from Fire Emblem Awakening), but outlined in gold and the metal is painted in hues of violet, lavender, etc. She is almost always seen wearing her work uniform (think typical espionage-esque clothing). She feels horribly uncomfortable in the patterned dresses she needs to wear to formal events when she is a royal instead of a soldier. She is shockingly muscular underneath all of her armor, but most people wouldn’t see it, and rather flat-chested (…is that weird for me to say?). The most striking feature about her would be the litany of runic tattoos running up her right arm - both alphabetical symbols and images.

Oeden: Unlike Royan, Oeden does not feel the need to be noticeable. He feels as though he attracts enough attention with the rumors circulating around the castle about him, and as such, prefers to remain as invisible as possible. The first thing he puts on every morning is a set of leather gloves - a gift from his father, Knight Commander Elyk - to protect against accidental prophecies from making contact with people. He wears a simple tunic and trousers along with boots that are always laced loosely (he wishes he could wear sandals, but it’s not worth the frostbite). Having been born with vitiligo, he hides a majority of his skin with a cloak around his body. He used to wear a poorly-sewn grey one, but he alternates between a golden one sewn by Eirys for his birthday or a fur robe his mother, Nadielle, bought for him. His color scheme consists of more neutral colors, primarily white, with earthy accents like brown and gold. Being the offspring of a Northern man and a Southern woman, Oeden bears a mixture of their unique features. He has his mother’s sharp bone structure, but inherited his hair from his father’s genes. Thus, the curly orange mop. He doesn’t bother styling it unless it interferes with his sight - who does he have to impress? Can be seen accessorizing only with a number of lucky charms handcrafted by his mother, a surprisingly superstitious woman. The only other thing to note are the shackles eternally wound round his ankles - a symbol of the sacrifice of his freedom to the Sealed God. The sound of the chains rattling against the cathedral’s stone floors precedes his entrance.

Carmila: Here’s the thing with Carmila: she would want to dress differently than how she does now. She wants to look like all those highfalutin nobles, when in actuality, she’s stuck trekking through the mud like a hot mess of poverty and ill-begotten bullheadedness. I’ve always envisioned her in heeled boots, ones she would helplessly attempt to scrape the mud of the swamps off of day and night. She typically wears a brown bodice with a puffy white undershirt, complimented by a faded pink peasant skirt. The jewelry she wears is all fake - fool’s gold necklace, lapis lazuli instead of sapphires in her earrings, etc. She’s a little on the chubbier side (a fact which the noble girls make fun of her for, and her fiancee loves her for), having big-bonedness run in the family. She has dark brown hair tied in a ponytail at the side. She almost never lets her hair down. Her natural hair is curly, but she straightens it to match the Southern noble style, much to Emerico’s dismay.

There you have it! I hope that all made sense? Feel free to ask for any further clarification - I know my late night thoughts were jumbled. I hope that’s enough to work with!

Also, if by “sun-bathed situation”, you mean “can I draw them as if the cast went to on a trip in some sort of anime filler episode to the beach?” then the answer is heck yes you can! There’s a whole lot of beaches in Via Evelis to choose from where they could kick back and relax together in some alternate, probably happier, universe. Just, y’know…keep it classy. I got a family-friendly blog to run here LOL

#ask #anon ask #kingdom come

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sarcasticbutterz-blog · 6 years ago

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Voltron Genderbend!

So, this is the first thing I’ve written on Tumblr and I hope you like it. Sorry if it’s garbage.

These are their names, so you don’t get confused or whatever: Shiro=Shira, Allura=Alfor, Keith=Kaylee, Hunk=Hanna, Katie=Kyle, Coran=Cora, Lotor is staying male, Zarkon=Zamora, Haggar/Honerva=Hector.

“Shira!” Alfor called. Shira woke up, dragging herself out of bed. She threw her mostly black hair into a long ponytail, then hurried to meet up with the Altean Prince.

“Is something wrong?” She asked. Alfor ran his dark fingers through his curly white hair.

“Empress Zamora has contacted us. I didnt answer out of my own personal fear, but I suppose we should try and contact her?” Alfor suggested. Shira thought for a moment.

“Where are the others?” She asked.

“They went off to the mall again. Something about a girlfriend for Kaltenecker?” He said. Shira rolled her eyes. Alfor opened his holographic computer screen and requested communications with the Galra Empress. His face showed his hatred when she answered, seemingly pleased with their calling.

“Ah, Queen Allura’s son lives.” She said simply. Alfor growled, his hands in fists.

“What do you want, Zamora?” He hissed. The Empress only smiled.

“As you know, my son is now of age to marry. And I understand you Alteans choose peace first. I would like to meet with you on these matters.”

“And why in the universe would we do that?” Alfor snarled. Shira remained quiet, looking lost in thought.

“Do you have a choice? We have you surrounded.”

“What?!” Alfor cried. Sure enough, the castle was surrounded by Galra fleets. Alfor slammed his fists on the control panel in front of him, making Shira jump.

“We need the others!” He yelled. Shira began typing furiously on her panel.

“Communications aren’t working!” She said. Alfor growled.

“Then...we have no choice...” He said hatefully. “We will meet with you.”

“Excellent.” Zamora said. She disconnected, leaving Alfor and Shira alone again.

“Are we really going to meet with her to talk about her son getting married?”Shira asked. Alfor huffed angrily.

“I suppose we have to.” He replied. Shira nodded. “Well, go put on a dress.”

“Wait, what? Why?” She asked. Alfor rolled his eyes.

“Obviously Lotor wants to marry you.” Shira wrinkled her nose and crossed her arms over her chest.

“No. No way. Not happening.” She said. Alfor smirked. “What?”

“Nothing.” He said. Shira glared at him and he sighed. Alfor set the castle’s coordinates to a dressing mall.

“Can I help you?” An alien woman with silver eyes asked.

“We would like a dress for a Galra event.” Alfor said. Shira pouted. The woman smiled and led them into a dressing room. Shee began sorting through dress after dress, tossing them back at the young paladin. She nearly tripped.

“Eh,” Alfor said as the woman held a V-Neck red dress up to her. He shook his head and grabbed a white dress with gold sparkles at the bottom. “No.” They went through dress after dress. Alfor grabbed a purple dress. It had a V-Neck, and faded into black at the bottom. It had thin layers over the skirt. The skirt reached to her knees. The sleeves were shoulderless but long sleeved, and came with a pair of purple heels and black jewelry.

“Perfect for a Galra meeting.” The woman said and threw it at Shira. She clumsily caught it and huffed angrily, stomping into a dressing room. She undressed, and pulled the dress up to her hips, wiggling into it. She pulled the sleeves on and slipped her feet into the heels. Then she put on several black bracelets and a sparkly black necklace. Shiny earrings went into her ears and she stepped out. Alfor’s jaw dropped.

“Well?” She said, turning in a circle. Alfor felt heat rising to his cheeks and pointy ears. The dress was thin, like her, and fitted her curvy body perfectly. She stood awkwardly, tugging at the skirt. Her legs were long, so it didn’t reach her knees. It reached a little less than halfway down her thighs.

“Beautiful! Beautiful! It was difficult to find a size for you, skinny girl!” The woman said happily.

“It’s kinda small in the chest area...” Shira said nervously. Her arms were folded over her chest. The woman clicked her tongue.

“That’s alright. You look magnificent. It fits the curves on your small body perfectly.”

“Curves?” She asked, looking in a mirror.

“Yes, yes, curves! What do you think, Alfor?” She asked .

“Pretty,” He said, mesmerized. The woman combed Shira’s long, wavy hair into a braided crown and she let her white bangs stay out, curling them. Black eyeliner, purple eye shadow, and purple lipstick was put on her face.

“There! Now this is beauty. You don’t even have to pay! Just let me take a photo!” Shira flushed red and tugged at the short skirt of her gown.

“I-I don’t know...” she said nervously. The woman smiled a toothy smile.

“Why not? Are you afraid that the camera will devour you?” Alfor teased. Shira glared at him.

“No! I just don’t normally wear...dresses...” She said. Alfor smiled brightly at her.

“You look wonderful. Please, take a photo, so we can hurry.” He said. Shira sighed and obeyed the woman’s commands. She was posed and told how to smile and the picture was snapped. She blinked several times, the light blinding her.

“Wonderful! Wonderful!” The woman cried.

“We thank you kindly, miss,” Alfor said. “But we really must go.”

“Of course! Of course! Go! Go!” She cried, ushering them out. Alfor grabbed Shira’s hand and pulled her away.

“Next stop, nightmare.” Shira muttered.

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fantasticnewtimagines · 8 years ago

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*Brother Trouble* Newt x reader

◘ Anonymous asked:

Hello! Could you do one with some angst but a fluffy ending where after Newt introduces the reader to his older brother, she becomes very interested in Theseus and spends more time with him then with Newt? Newt becomes sad (and a little jealous) because of this and avoids the reader since he thinks he can't compete with Theseus when she confronts him about it. Thanks!

♦ I was so excited to write this! I’ve wanted to write with Theseus for a while now! Yay!! Hope you enjoy!! This one is a longer one!

“My mother can be a bit.... much....” Brushing his fingers through his cinnamon red hair, Newt looked over to you, worry in his eyes. You just smile and take his hand, giving it a tight squeeze.

“I bet she’s wonderful.”

“She is. She’s just not used to me bringing home a girl...” His cheeks turned a deep red and he looked away, trying to hide. You giggle and lean in to his side. “I mean, I’ve never brought a girl home before. Theseus was always the one bringing them home. When I sent the owl to let her know she wrote back in such a frenzy I could barely make out her writing!”

The wind picked up as you two walked down the path toward Newt’s childhood home and as each step brought you closer, you grew more and more anxious. Newt didn’t talk much about his family when you first met almost a year ago.

Everything he was saying now was new and even though you knew his mother sounded wonderful, you couldn’t help but feel a bit scared with being the first girl Newt ever brought home. What if you weren't what she was expecting? What if she ended up not liking you?

“Well...” Taking a deep breath, Newt looked over to you and with a nervous smile said, “Here we are.”

Beyond the trees stood a small house beside a beautiful pond. You could see just by the waters edge, some Hippogriffs, lounging in the sunlight and bathing in the water.

Ivy grew on the side of the house and beautiful shrubs and flowers were scattered everywhere.

Newt opened the gate of the tiny fence surrounding the house and upon setting his case down, he turned the front door knob, slowly creeping in.

“Hello?”

It was quiet for a moment and then, from out of nowhere, the sound of rushing footsteps could be heard. A tall woman with long wavy hair and the same color as Newt’s, only bit darker, came around the corner. Her skirt was covered by an apron and you could smell whatever she was cooking wafting through the house. A smile was spread across her face as she held out her arms to envelope her son.

“Oh, Newt!” Being a tad shorter than him, Newt bent over a bit to hug her back. Tears emerged from the corner of her eyes but she instantly wiped them away when laying eyes upon you.

“Oh! Aren’t you a vision!”

Blushing, you set your suitcase down as she hurried over to hug you. She wasn’t shy in the slightest and she just barely knocked the air out of you.

“Newt has told me so much about you! He said you were a sight to see but I clearly his letters did you no justice!”

“Mother....” Newt eyed her, his cheeks now redder than a tomato. She just laughed and with a swift movement, plucked her wand out and cast a spell that sent your things up the stairs and in to your room.

“Come, you must be starving! Theseus and I were just preparing supper. I do hope you like chicken, Y/N.”

Opening your mouth to answer, Newt, a rather confused tone in his voice, looked at his mother and furrowed his brows. “Theseus is here?”

“Yes! It was a wonderful surprise actually. I told him you were coming home for a bit and you were bringing a girl,” She lowered her voice as she spoke the word girl, “And he said he just had to come home to meet her. After all, it is the first time this is happening.”

Trying to hold in a giggle, you gave Newt a sympathetic look as you could tell he was getting irritated by the constant reminder of how he had never brought a girl home before.

Turning the corner in to the kitchen, you found a tall gentleman with dark curly hair, like Newt’s, standing beside a stove stirring something in a pot. He was slender but very built. It became clear to you why Newt wasn’t so fond of talking about him. He was rather handsome.

“Brother!” Setting the spoon down he was stirring with, Theseus threw his arms out and took Newt in for a big brotherly hug. “It’s so nice to see you.” Ruffling his hair, Newt fought him off and Theseus just laughed. He turned to you, smiling and took your hand, placing a kiss on it, “And it’s such a delight to meet you?....”

“Y/N” You were blushing like a fool.

“What a pretty name.”

Clearly not appreciating his wooing actions towards you, Newt took your waist and pulled you in close to him, showing off that you were his.

Theseus noticed this and just smiled, going back to stirring the pot.

“You’re just in time. Supper is almost ready.”

“Please, sit!” Guiding to you a chair, Newt pulled it out and you sat, him pushing you in and taking a seat beside you. You placed a hand on his thigh, hoping it would keep him calm as you could tell his nerved were rising and he was growing rather uneasy. You guessed it had to do with his brother being here.

“You never told me your brother was a war hero!” Turning to Newt, you gave him a quizzical look before turning back to hear more of Theseus’s story.

“Well, I think hero is a bit much...” Theseus blushed but you knew he was just trying to be modest. Newt just pushed his food around on his plate, not paying much attention to the the table conversation.

After what seemed to be like hours, everyone finally retreated and Newt’s mother showed you to your room. Walking up the staircase and down the hall, you admired the wallpaper and the delicate framed showcasing photos of young Newt and Theseus. You smiled, stopping to get a better look at one of them. Newt looked about ten years old and he was standing beside a hippogriff.

“He was always a lover of magical creatures, my Newton.” Gazing upon the photo beside you, Newt’s mother smiled as she lovingly admired the photo of her son.

“He has you to thank for that.” You answered, earning a smile in return.

Continuing down the hall, you entered a small bedroom with a bed, a dresser a desk and full length mirror on the wall. Your suitcase was on the bed and beside it were perfectly folded towels and extra blankets.

“It’s not much, but I hope it’s comfy. Newt’s room is down the hall, second one on the left. I’m across from his and Theseus is next to mine. The bathroom is the door before Newt’s room. If you need anything at all, please, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you.”

Newt’s mother turned to leave but paused, turning back around. Placing a hand on your arm, she looked in to your eyes and with what seemed like tears, gently said, “I can’t tell you how happy it made me to hear that Newt had finally found someone to call his own. He’s a wonderful boy, and I want nothing more than for him to be happy. He has told me nothing but wonderful things about you....” She paused, wiping a tear from her eye before continuing, “I honestly believed he would never recover from Leta LeStrange, whom I never met but heard about. But seeing him with you, I see something I never saw when he would talk about her... pure and abounding love.”

You had heard about Leta from Newt a while back and although their friendship had never formed in to an actual relationship, you knew he once held feelings for her. Hearing Newt’s mother tell you that you were the first to ever truly have his entire heart though, was heart warming and incredible.

Giving you one last smile, she walked from the room, closing the door and leaving you to un pack.

The rest of the evening you felt your heart fluttering in your chest. There had been absolutely no reason to ever fear she wouldn’t like you.

Descending down the stairs, the delicious smells of eggs, bacon and grits filled your senses and you felt your stomach rumble. Walking in to the kitchen, you smiled as you watched the three Scamander’s shuffling about preparing breakfast together. Newt and Theseus were laughing and you were happy to see them getting along.

“Good morning, dear! Did you sleep well?” Newt’s mother beamed at you from across the kitchen while carefully using her wand to guide the plates and utensils on to the table.

“I did, thank you.”

“Any big plans today?” Theseus asked, setting a pitcher of orange juice on the table. You shrugged, taking your seat at the table, eagerly waiting to devour the delicious food before you.

“How about Newt and I take you out to see some of the scenery here in our little neck of the woods. How about, Newt? Show her where we used to play as kids.”

“That sounds fun!” Smiling, you turned to Newt who was chewing on some bacon. Seeing the glimmer of joy in your eyes, he nodded, agreeing to the idea.

“This is where Newt fell out of a tree once....” Chuckling, Theseus pointed to a large tree nearby. “Had bruises for weeks...”

Giggling, you looked at Newt and gave him a sympathetic look. He returned it with a small smile and a red tint in his cheeks.

The three of you had been talking through the woods for almost an hour now and the entire time, Theseus told stories of him and Newt and their adventures as kids. Truth be told, you found Theseus exciting and enchanting. He spoke with such expression and enthusiasm; it was hypnotic.

Spreading out his arms wide, Theseus turned back to you and Newt, a smile on his face as he said, “And here it is! The spot we used to spend hours upon hours searching for fun creatures and playing imaginary games.”

The clearing was a slightly large field surrounded by large trees and tall grass. There was dozens of flowers covering the ground and it looked as if it were a photo from a story book. The sun came through the leaves of the trees, creating a beautiful ray of dancing sun beams and the sounds of crickets and birds could be heard in the distance.

“It’s beautiful!” Walking out in the clearing, you found an area where your took a seat, your skirt spending about you. You laid on your back and closed your eyes, letting the breeze wash over your face and the grass to tickle your arms. It was only a matter of minutes before Newt and Theseus joined you.

After spending some time looking up at the clouds and hearing more stories from Theseus about his work as an Auror, the three of you decided to take a walk towards the lake nearby.

“It was one of the best missions I was ever given.” Smiling, Theseus looked down at you, clearly proud of his story telling and how amazing he sounded in all of them.

Throwing a pebble across the lakes surface, you returned the smile and asked for him to tell more.

Newt sat beneath one of the nearby trees, picking the grass and ripping it a part. He glared as he watched Theseus clearly trying to impress you and he wanted nothing more than to get up and push him in to the lake. The sound of your laugh pushed him over the edge and stood up, wiping the dirt from his pants.

“I-I’m gonna head back and check on the creatures.” Looking over to you, he eagerly awaited for you to join him but you just gave him a smile and a tiny wave.

“Okay!”

You dismissed him so quickly and he honestly felt s if he had been stabbed through the chest. Turning around, he began to walk, stopping and looking back one more time. It pained him beyond words to see you standing there beside Thesues, the better more accomplished older brother. His charms had worked on every woman he meant but he never thought they’d work on you.

Sighing, Newt turned back around and headed home. He could have just apparated but instead decided a walk could maybe do him some good.

“Back so soon, dear?” Mrs. Scamander stood beside one of her hippogriffs, brushing it as it ate some food she had placed on the ground.

“Yeah...”

“Where’s Theseus and Y/N?”

“By the lake.”

Walking past his mother, Newt opened the back door and made his way to his room. Shutting the door loudly, he stared at his case placed upon his bed. Truth be told, he didn’t want to go in and see his creatures. He wanted to spend time with you.

It was the following day and Theseus had invited to take you and Newt in to town and visit some new store’s. Newt was in his room sitting at his desk; Pickett in his hands when you knocked on the door and walked in.

Newt didn't even look up as you spoke, telling him you were about to leave.

“No, you two go. I’m gonna sit this one out. Besides, Pickett seems to have a cold and I should really stay here and keep an eye on him.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Giving you a forced smile, Newt watched as you turned back around, leaving him alone with Pickett who didn’t have a cold.

Your eyes glistened as you told Mrs. Scamander all about your day and all the fun places Theseus took you.

“Show them what you got!”

“Oh!” Reaching to your neck, you fumbled around for a moment before you got a hold of the necklace dropping down. The long chain exposed a heart locket at the end and you beamed as you held it up.

Newt took one look at it before abruptly standing up. The chair hit the wall behind him as he threw his napkin on the table and stormed out of the room. The three of you sat at the table and Mrs. Scamander turned to look at her son, a disapproving look in her eyes.

“What?”

“I should go talk to him...” Excusing yourself, you made your way up the stairs and gently knocked on Newt’s door. He didn’t answer and so you decided to let yourself in.

He stood at his window, his hands on the sill, his back to you. He didn’t move or flinch a you closed the door behind you and walked over to him. Placing a hand on his shoulder, he just nudged it off and walked away.

“Newt, what is going on?”

Letting out a chuckle, he turned to look at you, his eyes red as it was clear he was trying to hold in tears.

“Are you honestly asking me that?”

Taken back by his tone of voice, you backed up a bit and watched as he fell on to his bed, his hands flying to his face.

“Every time I think I can finally have something of my own to be proud of, stupid Theseus has to out shine me or prove to everyone he's better. He’s always been the better one. He’s smarter, more successful, more handsome....” He paused, standing up and kicking the edge of his bed. “I see now why every single girl who meets him falls in love.”

“You think I love him?!”

“You’ve spent every waking minute with him since we got here!”

“That’s because you won’t do anything with us!”

“And that thing-” He pointed to the necklace around your neck, “That’s an obvious sign he’s trying to win your heart over! He just can’t let me have any type of happiness of my own!”

Mouth agape and your eyes wide, you stared at Newt in disbelief as his words echoed through your head. Taking the necklace off, you laid it on his desk and walked towards him.

“Newt, I’m sorry you thought I was falling for your brother. Honestly. And he was never trying to win me over.”

Newt scoffed at your words.

“I’m serious, Newt. He was never trying to win me over. Don’t believe me? Open the locket.”

You watched as his head turned, his eyes landing on the piece of jewelry strewn across his desk. You waited, watching as he finally walked over and picked it up. He played with it in his hands for a moment before cracking it open. Inside was a photo of you and him and an engraving saying, always close to my heart.

“I found it today while out and mentioned how much I liked it. Theseus bought it and surprised me with it. The photo and the engraving were added by him.”

A tear slipped down Newt’s cheek as he looked over to you. It was then that Theseus entered the room, his head hanging low and his hands in his pockets.

“Hey....”

Newt stared at him, waiting for him to continue.

“I-I’m sorry about how I made you feel, Newt. I just wanted to get to know the girl who stole my little brother’s heart, you know?” A lopsided smile spread across his face as he rubbed his forehead.

Newt blinked before looking back down at the locket in his hands. A smiled appeared on his freckled face and he looked back up at his brother.

“I guess I’m just used to girls flocking to you.” He chuckled and you smiled, watching as Theseus rolled his eyes and laughed along with his brother. Newt crossed the room and put the necklace back on you, placing a kiss on your lips. Theseus made a gagging noise and Newt playfully punched him.

Theseus left the room leaving you and newt alone. Taking Newt’s hand in yours, you pulled him in close and he rested his forehead against yours. Your E/C eyes met his green ones you quietly said, “For the record, you’re much cuter than your brother.”

Chuckling, Newt pulled you in and placed a passionate kiss upon your lips.

If there was one thing Theseus was never going to have, it was you.

OMG this was so much longer than I anticipated. I hope it was okay! I haven’t written much Theseus and so I hope I wrote/captured him well!

As always, feedback is welcome! ^_^

#newt scamander imagines #newt scamander #newt scamander x you #newt scamander x reader #fantastic newt imagines #fantastic beasts and where to find them #fantastic beasts fanfic #fantasticbeasts #fantastic beasts

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true-halloween-tales · 7 years ago

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2017: #13-VACATION FROM HELL, PART 3: THE GREAT ESCAPE

I was not surfing over hot lava, but my vacation from Hell continued. The date was Sunday, July 9th, 1989, and I was sitting in a Greyhound bus in Reno, Nevada close to 8 pm. The bus continued on its journey to San Francisco, and we were rapidly approaching the California border! It was looking like we would make it to California with no more mishaps! The trip then became rather exciting as we crossed into California. The bus began slowly ascending up a mountain road in the darkness. My ears started popping, and the oxygen started to feel thinner. The dark mountainous highway was lit up by an endless sea of headlights. We stopped at Truckee but could see little since the darkness devoured the view. I stared at the dark California highway as we progressed down from the mountains and west: Alta, Auburn, Sacramento, and Vallejo. The bus soon rolled into the San Francisco Greyhound station at 2 am, and then I rolled out of the bus, with quarts of quarters I won in Reno jingling in my pockets.

The San Francisco Greyhound station appeared to be clean but was covered with a thin layer of grease everywhere. I found a pay phone and a Yellow Pages, so my phone calls to motels and hotels commenced. There were no vacancies anywhere in San Francisco! I used most of the quarters I won in Reno during the hour I called. One friendly motel told me that there were vacancies at the Strip Motel, but in order to stay there I would have to strip… Most motels could not be reached at such a late hour, so I decided to try in a few hours after dawn... That meant waiting in the bus station overnight with my luggage…

Fu Man Chew and I claimed a well-worn wooden bench. Sleeping was truly a nightmarish experience, but the thin layer of grease kept us sticking to the bench so we did not fall off. Even better, there was a witch-like lady who haunted the bus station. She could be heard wailing in the distance, and her main preoccupation was loudly complaining to herself (see 2017: #2-WITCHES). Occasionally a uniformed man would patrol the bus station attempting to drive her away from her bench. She yelled and called him a Nazi. After he finished belligerently berating her, he wandered in our direction. I remembered Monty Python’s training on How Not to Be Seen, and I slowly compacted my body on the shadowy bench. Luckily, the vigilant Nazi did not approach our bench. This scenario reoccurred frequently, and the whole night just gave me a dull persistent headache and about six minutes of sleep (see 2015: #4-THINGS THAT GO BUMP IN THE NIGHT).

At dawn the purifying rays of sunlight seemed to melt some of the animistic grime from the area like it was a dissipating ghostly ectoplasm. Me and my headache staggered to the pay phone that previously ate my riches from Reno. My calls for lodgings resumed as I once again consulted the trusty Yellow Pages. I finally found a hotel in Chinatown that could take us at 8 am. Things had continued to improve! It sure seemed that whatever curse which was dooming this vacation was surely over... But, I was so terribly wrong about thinking that. The bull, the car flipping upside down, stuck at the Bates-Medusa sisters motel, and even being stranded in the desert: these experiences were happy joys compared to the horror that was to come…

Shortly before 8 am we delightfully departed the bus station and entered a taxi. The driver had a tumbleweed of frizzy hair and vaguely resembled a doubly-disheveled Steven Wright clone with gritty glasses. He provided us with the reason why there were no vacancies last night: the San Francisco Marathon was this morning. This marathon was starting now, and traffic was rerouted in San Francisco, drivers were confused, and he was confused what route he would take. As we sped to our hotel, we passed through an intersection at the base of a super-steep hill. I was sitting on the left side in the back seat, and I sleepily gazed out of the left side window to see a car coming down the steep hill at a fast speed! It went through the red light – and hurtled directly towards our taxi! It was a green four door car with a driver who was long-haired, blonde, professional, female, and close to 40 years old. It only seemed to be one second after it went through the red light that the car was three inches from our car – and speeding at least at 40 mph! Bang!!! A moment of hyperrealism then occurred, a minute of one’s life that seems to go in slow motion…

The green car crashed into the left side of the taxi with so much force that our taxi was lifted on its two right wheels... Another flip over? For a long second the car teetered on two wheels and almost flipped over, but it fell back down. Boom! A large portable stereo in the back seat hit Fu Man Chew and myself in the ribs a few times violently during this crash. We felt like we had bruised ribs. I started laughing at the absurdity of yet another accident. But then Steven Wright jumped out of the taxi and staggered erratically, nearly falling over. His arm was bleeding profusely at a fast pace. The blood came spurting out with force, streaming rapidly all over the street. He was in shock. I looked over at the green car to assess if there was a greater emergency than Steven Wright bleeding to death all over the streets of San Francisco. Ms. Carcrasher in the nearby green car was hysterical and crying with her windshield now cracked down the middle with her head a minor bloody mess. The blood flow for her head was not anything like Steven Wright’s Niagara Falls of blood gushing which was spraying all over the street. I hopped out of the taxi and ran over to Steven Wright. I really produced my same white handkerchief that I tied on the car antennae when trapped in the desert a few days previously (see 2017: #12-VACATION FROM HELL, PART 2: STRANDED IN THE DESERT). I provided emergency first aid and tied the handkerchief tightly over his badly bleeding arm and sat him down. Soon an ambulance was in sight, and Fu Man Chew and I removed our luggage from the smashed up taxi, mainly ignoring the inconvenience of yet another accident. The taxi company sent another taxi, for free, that took us to our hotel. We laughed in the second taxi, and the driver looked at us like we were utterly unhinged, for laughing about a car accident.

Arriving in San Francisco’s Chinatown, we made our way to the Obrero Hotel on Stockton Street. It was known for its oxtail soup, and I do not think bulls were involved. It was managed by a short, silver-haired, black turtlenecked lady named Bambi, but I do not think any deer were involved either. We logically avoided the oxtails like the plague. We then started visiting locations in San Francisco as far from those oxtails as possible. People were so very friendly! I was offered $300 to sell my dayglo painted, winged Mercury hat with Krang from Dimension X on top. I still have that hat, still not sold. We went to the Presidio and saw the James Bond film, License to Kill (see 2017: #4-SPIES). We devoured burgers and shakes at the 1950’s themed Mel's Drive In. We saw the Golden Gate Bridge and viewed Alcatraz through timed binoculars for pay. We wandered through Golden Gate Park including the wondrous Japanese Tea Garden. The California Academy of Sciences planetarium thrilled us with an astonishing laser show. San Francisco was fun even though our ribs hurt horribly.

I walked all over San Francisco by myself, from Divisadero Street, Haight Street, Castro Street, and through North Beach. I tried to take the BART public transportation train system, but I could not understand how to get through the automated station. I succeeded in setting off an alarm in the empty station, and I barted away. I walked on the beach at sunset on Ocean Beach and looked at the violent, cold, and wavy Pacific Ocean. I had to touch the ocean, and I saw in the sand lots of strange clear gelatin. I picked up a stick and investigated the dozen square feet of unknown clear gelatin. Was there some sort of spill from a boat? But due to the wind, I kept dropping the stick in the gelatin and picking it up. Soon my hands went numb and I realized that the clear gelatin were scores of mushy, formless jellyfish washing up in the cold water. After sensation returned and I survived attack of the jellyfish, I wandered across town into the City Lights bookstore and bought the last Sigmund Freud book to complete my collection. I was rung up at the register by the business owner, Beatnik poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti. I wonder what he would have said knowing I would be in touch with Allen Ginsberg two years later (see 2012: #2-THE HOWLING POET). But the most exciting moment occurred when we went looking for the fan club address for the mysterious music group, The Residents.

While we suffered in that Bates-Medusa motel room in the mountains, we frequently listened to the Heaven? and Hell! cds by The Residents. In 1989 there were very few cds released. With the cds was a slip of paper with the fan club and a business address for the band. Was it a record store? That was my hope, to find a San Francisco equivalent of Wax Trax, an independent music store that ran the fan club. The business address on Grove Street had a bust of a famous music composer in the window with large spiders painted all over it. We then went looking for the fan club address, and we lost hope when we ended up on a residential street with a steep hill. We found the address, but it was a home. There was a driveway with what looked like a Mercedes, but it definitely appeared to be the wrong place. I decided to ring the bell to ask if anyone knew of a nearby music shop since I thought I had the wrong address.

A man with mesmerizing black curly hair answered the door wearing a Ralph Records t-shirt (see 2016: #3-BLOODY MESMERISM). That was the record company for The Residents. I explained to him our story including the car accidents, and he let us in. He was watching a football game, and I somehow instantly knew that he was not one of the secretive band members. He led us to the basement where I soon saw enormous stacks of records. He had to take his dog outside, and he told us to shop around. So we picked out a cd or two, a poster, but mainly observed this strange place. There was postal equipment here; this was a primary location for Ralph Records. Original Residents poster artwork was laid out revealing some of their iconic images to be collages. I looked up at one point and saw images of four faces squished on a photocopy machine, most likely the faces of the unknown band members. We left quite happy, and I saw the curly haired football watcher at two of the band’s performances in future years.

We needed to spend an extra day in Frisco before returning to Rapid City, South Dakota. We hoped to return to Rapid City on the day KITT would be fixed. So we went to a theatre on Market Street that showed old science fiction films all day. The theatre was packed with quite the cast of characters. The audience was loud and fun. Fu Man Chew felt as if he had descended into the “armpit of humanity.” And to be fair, I am sure there were odors. In between movies, a man brought onto the stage a ridiculous lottery wheel and he commenced the Ten-o-Win. All patrons of the theatre were given tiny tickets when they bought anything at the theatre. These tickets had numbers for the Ten-o-Win. He spun the wheel three times, and you could win free popcorn or money: $1 up to $10. People were dancin’ in the aisles if they won! It was quite festive and reminded me of when I went to the Woods Theatre in downtown Chicago and enjoyed similar happy times watching Fred Williamson flicks.

The next day we departed San Francisco on a Greyhound bus to Rapid City, South Dakota. The journey would last forty hours, with one change late at night to a non-Greyhound bus. The only problem was that we ran out money. This only problem proved to be a big problem. There were no more quarters in my pockets from Reno. As the bus stopped for lunch, we barely could buy anything and watched glutinous monstrous children eat an entire McDonalds into nothing but dust. Fu Man Chew turned red and hated the world from hunger. I Zenned out, and we arrived in Rapid City at 2 am. This time the bus station was just closing, so we had to wait outside in an adjacent park with our luggage. We were hungry. We literally had a total of 38 cents. It was getting cold out. So I made the logical decision to pitch pennies in the dark and we succeeded in losing most of them. Sleeping on the park bench resulted in being covered in a cool morning dew and shivering.

The bus station opened, and I waited there with our luggage. Meanwhile, Fu Man Chew visited the local insurance office, and he cashed out for the third time his emergency cash policy. Soon we had a motel room, and we scampered off like famished ghoulish fiends to the nearest McDonalds to glut ourselves after not eating for two days. It was a demonic gorging of monumental proportions. We then smiled and slowly sauntered back to the motel room. It is not wise to glut oneself on McDonalds-anything after not eating for a few days. As we walked our digestive systems started echoing out horrendous sounds. It was only a matter of a minute before we were running back to the motel because a tsunami of diarrhea was about to hit Rapid City! The motel was a few blocks away down the highway, and I recall having to hold my bursting backside as I ran down the street in a dignified gait, dripping with cold sweat. I flew into the motel room a minute before Fu Man Chew. Shortly later, I was drained and collapsed in a chair. Fu Man Chew exited the bathroom white as a ghost, and then there was a knock on the door. It was a sheriff. He handed Fu Man Chew documents and rapidly vanished. Had we committed some sort of feces malfeasance? We soon discovered that there were indeed legal problems – the vacation from Hell continued!

Van Heusen was the used car salesman in Rapid City who had rented us a rotten red car that completely died in Evanston, Wyoming. He legally demanded mucho monies from Fu Man Chew for leaving the car in Evanston. He was insisting that a boot be put on KITT so we could not leave Rapid City until he received loads of cash. We soon saw a lawyer resembling John Goodman in Rapid City. He explained that Van Heusen, who incidentally resembled Paul Lynde from Hollywood Squares, was a known used car salesman con man. Van Heusen owned six car lots with hundreds of cars for rent, yet he rented us his worst car; it was a set up! While Goodman worked on our case, his wife took us to an American Indian museum. She recommended that we go to the South Dakota School of Mines and Technology before we leave the area because of a dinosaur dig we could join. We finally picked up KITT, but there was a problem. One of Van Heusen’s dreaded dictums remained that we could not leave the state until he was paid. Goodman recommended that we not get stopped by the police while fleeing South Dakota. The Great Escape then commenced!

The next morning we sped away from Rapid City very discreetly, carefully, and quietly. Outside of town we coincidentally approached the South Dakota School of Mines and Technology, so we visited it. We parked and I approached students to ask about the dinosaur dig. They looked at me in fear and ran away! No one would answer our questions, there was major weirdness, and everyone went inside, some staring out the windows at us and KITT. What was going on? We left quite puzzled, and later I found out the reason for this mystery. The dinosaur dig was for the Tyrannosaurus rex known as Sue which is now located in Chicago’s Field Museum (see 2017: #7-TENTACLES). There was a FBI raid on the South Dakota School of Mines and Technology campus the previous day in which all involved in the excavation were arrested for digging up a dinosaur and stealing it from Indian property (see 2010: #3-CURSE OF THE TYRANNOSAURUS REX). The students thought we were the FBI! We zoomed out of there and through South Dakota. It was surreal as we drove towards a huge blood red harvest moon near the horizon. We crossed the South Dakota border at nightfall. We escaped! We quickly headed back to Illinois the next day through Minnesota and Wisconsin, arriving in Chicago in the evening. Fu Man Chew was feeling fatigued by the difficulties and legal issues from this vacation from Hell and soon returned to Florida. As for me, I started planning my next vacation, and maybe it could be a bit more wild…

Pandora’s Box is now closing – and its hinges sound horrible. They’re breaking. It will reopen only one more time. In eleven months on October 1, 2018, the first of the thirteen final Halloween Tales will be released. Next year we shall examine such topics as great horror film actors and supervillains (see 2018: #1-GREAT HORROR FILM ACTORS and 2018: #12-SUPERVILLAINS). And I almost forgot! Goodman said that Van Heusen had to travel to Evanston to drive the red car back to Rapid City. So Van Heusen was the one who must have found that enormous, nasty, horrible, terrible piece of skin that fell off my foot in the desert since it was on the back seat. He probably added wheels and a stick shift to it and rented it. Happy Halloween!

#true halloween tales #Halloween #vacation from hell #sanfrancisco #the residents

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