#it does indeed smell like a lake but in a pleasant way and with a soapy undertone

[circusgoth-dotcom]

i got this "lakeside life" hand sanitizer from bath & bodyworks and it smells like what i imagine a nice hot bath at pamela's cabin would smell like :0)

[notapaladin]

took the words right out of my mouth

Acatl decides to teach Teomitl how to row. Teomitl does indeed learn something new.

Also on AO3!

-

They were curled together lazily in the shade of Acatl’s courtyard like two lizards, arms around each other despite the heat, when Teomitl had what was in retrospect one of his better ideas.

It started out as a half-drowsy murmur as he nestled further against Acatl’s chest. It was really too hot for a position like that to be comfortable, but he was perfectly willing to bear discomfort if it meant feeling as well as hearing Acatl’s heartbeat in his ear. I might never have had this, he thought, but what actually came out of his mouth before he could sink too deep into introspection was, “You were the best teacher I could ever have had, you know.”

Acatl made a small noise; belatedly, Teomitl wondered if he might have been falling asleep. “Oh?” Then his words must have penetrated the haze, because the arm around Teomitl’s waist tightened as he nuzzled at his hair. “Mm. You give me undue credit.”

Well, now, that couldn’t be borne. “I do not,” he huffed, and twisted around—the angle was awkward and his neck wasn’t happy with him, but if Acatl was going to go about doubting his own obvious excellence in all things, then Teomitl had to kiss him until he saw sense. They’d only been together for a scant matter of days, and sometimes he caught Acatl flushed and staring at him as though it hadn’t sunk in yet. I love you, ridiculous man. Let me show you.

Acatl, it turned out, was very willing to be shown. He slid a hand up into Teomitl’s hair as they kissed, pulling him closer, and hummed in pleasure when Teomitl ventured to coax his mouth open. Pressed together as they were, he thrilled to the feeling of Acatl’s heart beating faster under his fingertips. “Mmm...” It was a barely audible hum, but it was enough to drive Teomitl a little wild; he writhed in Acatl’s arms until he could worm his way onto his lap, tangle his fingers in the rippling fall of his hair, and kiss him until they both had to pull away panting for breath.

His lover was beautiful at all times, but none moreso than now—face flushed, lips red, eyes with that hazy look in them that said he was very much enjoying himself. Teomitl had to suck in a breath before he could manage words, fighting the urge to wriggle pointedly in Acatl’s lap. No matter how much he wanted him, things between them were still so new. Acatl, he suspected, would have to be lured like a skittish deer. “The best of teachers,” he whispered. “The best of men.”

And now Acatl was blushing. It was adorable. “Teomitl,” he murmured, and ducked his head.

“It’s true.” It was. Only the very best of men would have saved the world so many times and accepted no recognition; only the very best of men would have met his eyes on that day and told him there was no need for an apology when Teomitl had been prepared to lay his bleeding heart at his feet.

The memory case a shadow through his mind that must have shown on his face, because Acatl smoothed gentle fingers along his cheekbone and smiled softly at him. “Hm. I wouldn’t say the best of teachers.”

“Why not?” But he thought he knew what Acatl was going to say; there was still that gap in Teomitl’s education they’d never been able to rectify, and he could admit it nagged at him.

Sure enough, he wasn’t disappointed. Acatl’s smile turned teasing as he continued, “I never could teach you to row.”

And that was when it occurred to him, even as he flushed with embarrassment. “It’s not too late.”

Acatl sat back, tilting his head as he considered this. “You want to learn?”

He was the Master of the House of Darts, one day to be Revered Speaker. She of the Jade Skirt was his patron. If he felt like it, he could have a legion of slaves or a herd of ahuitzotls to take him anywhere on the water he wished to go. But in his mind’s eye he saw Acatl rowing, the steady ripple of strong muscles as he propelled a boat through muddy water with ease. It was something any man in Tenochtitlan ought to know how to do, and he’d always been awful at it. But no matter how terrible at it he was, he knew Acatl would never mock his failures. He never had.

Besides, even if he wound up learning nothing at all, it would be pleasant to be out on the water where it was cooler. And where he probably wouldn’t spend all his time pondering the myriad temptations of Acatl’s home, particularly the parts involving a closed entrance curtain and a convenient mat. Or floor. Or wall.

“Yes,” he said, and slid off Acatl’s lap before he could get distracted again.

Of course, they couldn’t simply set out. A boat had to be found and a secluded place to practice had to be arranged; the latter was more difficult than the former, but if Teomitl was going to flail around with an oar he wasn’t going to do it with an audience if he could help it. Fortunately, there were plenty of secluded little spots around the edges of the Floating Gardens if you knew where to look—and with Jade Skirt’s magic, he would always know where to look.

Acatl took them out there, letting him relax for the moment and ensuring they wouldn’t crash the boat before he’d even had a chance at the oar. It really was better on the lake, with a breeze stirring their hair and the spray from the water cooling their skin. Not to mention that Acatl had shed his cloak in deference to the sun’s heat, leaving Teomitl with an excellent view of bare shoulders and a lean, strong back. Acatl was no warrior—his muscles were on the wiry side where they showed at all, unlike Neutemoc who was built like a tree—but that didn’t make him weak. Teomitl allowed himself to imagine standing up, sliding his hands over those shoulders and down his arms, telling Acatl that really, they’d gone far enough—

Then he shook his head, grimacing at himself. No matter how much I want him—no matter how much he loves me—I have better self-control than that. I don’t want to lure him into something he might regret. They’d been together a week. He’d courted Mihmatini for a year. He could wait. At the very least, when he got Acatl onto his mat he wanted there to be a mat.

“Will this suit?”

Teomitl gave a start; he’d stopped paying as close attention to his surroundings, but when he lifted his head he saw they’d reached a place where calm water lapped at the edges of a small island. The water was too clear for tlilcoatls to lurk, and the mud of the bottom wasn’t deep enough for the oar to get stuck too badly if he dropped it. Most importantly, it was utterly deserted. “It should.”

“Good.”

Then Acatl turned, holding out the oar, and flashed Teomitl one of those thin, soft smiles that transformed his face from merely decently attractive into something that took Teomitl’s breath away. “Shall we?”

Here was his first test: standing up in the boat without falling over. He grabbed the edge of the boat and braced himself, ignoring Acatl’s outstretched hand; he could at least manage this unassisted, even if the rocking of the craft under him made his stomach clench until he was steady on his feet again. “Let’s.”

Shortly after they switched positions and he took up the oar—still warm from Acatl’s hands, gods—he realized he’d miscalculated. Badly.

He hadn’t realized Acatl teaching him to row would involve so much of Acatl touching him. Of course, it made sense—he had to ensure he was holding the oar properly, after all—and he wasn’t doing anything forward, but that didn’t seem to matter at all to his libido. Now that he was no longer halfway to melting in the sun, it turned out his body had very strong opinions on the quick, sure way Acatl’s hands brushed along his shoulders or forearms or wrists. He tried to think of unappealing things. The main autopsy rooms of Acatl’s temple. Quenami’s fucking smirk. Tizoc.

It didn’t work. Acatl stood behind him, close enough that he could feel the heat from his skin, and when long fingers came to rest on the backs of his hands he had to bite back a sound that wanted to be a whine. “Nnh.”

“Here, you’re still not holding it right—” The worst part was that Acatl didn’t appear to even notice; he bit his lip lightly in concentration as he adjusted Teomitl’s hold on the oar, but that was all the expression he showed.

Teomitl exhaled. Right. He’s always taken lessons seriously. I’d be a poor student if I couldn’t do the same. Focusing on the smooth wood under his palms and not his lover’s scarred fingers, he shifted his grip and found himself automatically adjusting his stance to keep his balance. “Like this?”

“Mm. Now try pushing off.”

He did. The boat lurched, weaving from side to side like a drunkard, and they both swayed on their feet. Acatl was steadier; the arm he put around Teomitl’s waist to keep him upright didn’t so much as shiver. Teomitl turned automatically to look at him, acutely aware of how they were touching—Acatl’s hand just grazing his stomach, his side against Acatl’s chest. They were nearly close enough to kiss. He saw the way Acatl’s gaze flicked down to his lips and thought, just for a moment, that they might.

Then Acatl released him and stepped back, all business again. “You’re too abrupt. Here—like this.” Hands over his own again, he poled the boat forward. Teomitl tried not to think about how easy it was to let himself relax into that touch. “It’s more important to have your movements smooth. You can worry about speed later.”

Smooth, he thought. He took in a deep breath, filling his lungs with the smell of the lake. On the edge of his hearing, he could almost catch a faint snatch of chattering song from his ahuitzotls. That’s right. I have Chalchiuhtlicue’s protection. I can do this. Remembering the way Acatl had moved him, he did it again. Their boat hadn’t quite come to a halt yet, but as it drifted forward he felt the water part at the stroke of his oar. He exhaled. “Ah.”

“See?” A smile tugged at the corners of Acatl’s lips. Teomitl wanted to kiss it. “You’re doing well, love.”

His face burned, and he had to drop his gaze to the water. You’re doing well. His heart gave a lurch in his chest. Every time Acatl praised him, whether it was for his magic or his quick thinking or something as simple as rowing a boat, it set a swarm of butterflies rioting through his insides and a pulse of heat through his veins.  It was far too easy to imagine that low voice saying the same things against his hair, or with his lips moving against the pulse in his throat—to imagine it rough with need and growling Good boy, Teomitl, you’re so good for me—and gods, for Acatl he’d be perfect. He swallowed hard. “...Praise me when I’ve managed to get this thing moving.”

Acatl’s expression said he’d expected a reaction like that. “Go on, then.” Then he sat down, elbows on his bent knees, to watch how Teomitl did on his own. The pose reminded Teomitl so sharply of his lessons in magic that the morning’s devotional scabs on his earlobes started to itch. “Slow and steady, like I showed you.”

He rolled his shoulders, took in another deep lake-scented breath, and started to row. It was easier now than it had been; the boat still lurched and he knew trying to turn too fast would send him over the side, but he was starting to understand why Acatl had told him to move slowly. Mud and water didn’t care if you were in a hurry; it would drag you down all the same. Careful, he thought. Shoulders like this, back like this—no, I’m doing the thing with my hands again, that’s better...

He wouldn’t be winning any races, but the boat was moving forward more or less in a straight line. Eventually he’d have to figure out how to turn without crashing the boat, but he was sure Acatl would be happy to show him that, too. For now, this was...

Well, it was exhilarating, honestly. He was rowing a boat and it was actually obeying him! He wouldn’t need to summon slaves or ahuitzotls to carry him over the water anymore! Elated, he turned back to his lover. “How am I doing, Acatl-tzin?” He hadn’t called Acatl tzin in a while, but the honorific slipped out anyway; something about it seemed instinctual when the man was teaching him something new.

Acatl seemed to have been preoccupied; he twitched when Teomitl addressed him, head coming up to meet his gaze like a startled hound. There was a faint flush across his cheeks that Teomitl was sure he couldn’t blame on the sun. “Ngh.” He swallowed visibly. “You—you’re doing very well. But your feet should be—space them a bit wider apart—“

He nodded, shifting his stance. “Like—”

Oh, no.

There was a split second of vertigo, a terrible awareness that he’d leaned over too far, and then he hit the water and the lake was rushing in his ears. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move; it took a heartstopping moment for him to remember how to work his limbs and right himself, realizing that he’d gone to his knees in the muck. When he opened his eyes, the world he saw was made of dark jade. His ears were filled with that foggy not-silence of the water, but the song of the ahuitzotls rang clearer than it ever had.

In Tlalocan...

The water wasn’t so deep here, maybe to his chest if he was standing. His lungs burned. If he stood up, he’d be able to breathe. But he was on his knees and he couldn’t—

It felt like forever, but it had to have only been a few seconds. Even muffled by the water, he could hear Acatl’s cry. “Teo—!”

Then there was a surge of water that could only come from quite a large boat suddenly tipping over, followed by a second, louder splash and a flurry of very energetic cursing. It seemed to unfreeze whatever had taken hold of his muscles, and he shot to his feet with a surge of panic.

Air was a relief. He shook water and his own wet hair out of his eyes, looking around for Acatl through the droplets still clinging to his eyelashes.“Acatl-tzin!”

“Ack—ugh. I’m alright!” Acatl was an arms’ length away from him in water up to the middle of his chest, spitting out wet strands of hair with a grimace, but most importantly, he didn’t look hurt. Teomitl could breathe a little easier.

Not, admittedly, much easier. The last time he’d seen Acatl like this—soaking wet, with the coils of his dark hair plastered to his skin and streaming off into the water like ink—had been when Tlaloc had sent His agent into the Fifth World. Then he’d been freshly filled with Jade Skirt’s power and they’d been fighting for their lives, and there hadn’t been time to admire the view. Now that there was, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Acatl’s skin gleamed, water sluicing down the curve of his shoulders and clinging along the ragged lines of old scars. Sunlight turned the sparkling droplets to fire, and Teomitl wanted to catch every one of them on his tongue. When Acatl threw his head back and raked his hair away from his face, he swallowed a whimper. Fuck. Fuck me.

It took real effort for him to remember how words worked. “You’re sure?” He waded closer for a better look. They were close enough to touch now, if he dared.

Acatl huffed, shaking his head. “Never mind me, what about the boat?”

Right. The boat. The boat which was now floating perfectly upside-down on the water a few feet away from them. He eyed it, frowning. Acatl’s strength was in his magic, not in his muscles; he was stronger, but not enough to get their craft flipped upright with only the traction provided by slippery lake mud under his feet. There was only one other option. “...I can call the ahuitzotls to help us right it?”

“...In a moment.” Acatl’s distaste for that idea was clear; Teomitl honestly couldn’t blame him. They were pretty creepy. But then their eyes met, and Acatl’s expression shifted to concern. “What was all that about?”

He swallowed. Acatl’s gaze didn’t seem to know where to settle—it slid from his face down to his collarbone and back up to rest somewhere around his mouth. He was suddenly very, very aware of the way Acatl was looking at his mouth. Without really meaning to, he took a few steps forward. The water between them was suddenly too much. “...You were...” Heat rose in his face. “...Distracting,” he finished lamely.

Acatl made a soft noise, and his hands flexed as though he’d like to reach for him; Teomitl wasn’t expecting him to, and so calloused fingers cupping his cheek made him gasp. A faint smile curved Acatl’s lips at his reaction. “Oh?”

He’d thought he would have to coax Acatl onto his mat like a hunter luring a deer. He’d thought Acatl would be shy. But the way his lover was looking at him now, all heat and hope, made him think again. Emboldened by the light in Acatl’s eyes, Teomitl reached for his waist and pulled him in. Even in the cool water, his lover’s skin was deliciously warm under his hands. “Mmm. Let me show you.”

Their mouths met, hot and wet and perfect. Again Teomitl realized how wrong he’d been; it was impossible to imagine how he could have thought Acatl shy when there was a hand in his hair and another sliding down his back, pressing them together; he stumbled a little in the mud, but Acatl only held him tighter. They broke apart only to kiss again, and when he dug his nails into the meat of Acatl’s back he was rewarded with a hum of pleasure. “Mmm...”

“Acatl,” he panted. He wanted to fix their boat. He wanted to get to that island, wanted to peel off their sodden loincloths and—but he couldn’t say any of that, because when he’d broken the kiss Acatl had moved his attention to his throat, and the feeling of his mouth there drove all the words from his mind except one. “Fuck.” Acatl hummed—gods, he could feel the vibrations of that sound—and did it again, tugging his head back, and Teomitl clawed at his back with a shuddering groan.

And Acatl didn’t stop. He kept going, mouthing a trail up Teomitl’s throat, and when he got to his ear he breathed, “Enjoying yourself?”

He’d never liked rhetorical questions. In lieu of an answer, he pressed closer, stomach to stomach; the heat of Acatl’s skin against his own was intoxicating. There was no room in his head anymore for thoughts of care or circumspection; he rolled his hips in a rough and inexpert grind, and the answering press of very hard flesh against his own made him gasp. “Oh.”

Acatl’s hands slid down to his hips, all but anchoring him in place. His voice was as rough as Teomitl had dreamed as he murmured, “You aren’t the only one who’s been distracted. You don’t know what it’s like, watching you move.”

He licked his lips. “Acatl-tzin.” That got a reaction too; Acatl’s head lifted, eyes locked on his own, and though his lover’s face was flushed all the way to his ears it was so clearly not a blush of shame that it gave him the ability to breathe, “I want...” But he wanted so many things they all clamored to leave his mouth first, and so he was temporarily struck dumb.

“What?” Acatl’s self-control had always been impressive; now, though he didn’t move, his fingers tightened on Teomitl’s hips.

Teomitl’s heart was beating so hard he could feel it in his fingertips. Desperate for something more to hold onto, he sank them into the wet, heavy fall of Acatl’s hair and watched him tremble at the contact. “You.” Just you. In any way you want, any way we can dream of. Their loincloths were entirely too much fabric.

Acatl sucked in a harsh breath. “Let’s set the boat to rights, and then you can have me.” His hips rocked lightly, giving Teomitl absolutely no doubt as to what he had in mind.

“Ngh.” He’d never been harder in his life. He didn’t think he’d even wanted the crown this badly. But his lover had been chaste and devoted only to his god for years, and so something made him pause and mutter, “Acatl-tzin. I thought—”

The way his gaze fell must have told Acatl more than his words could, because he found himself quite effectively shut up by a brief, sizzling kiss. “You’ve been driving me mad for months. Did you think I didn’t want you?”

Months, he says. Months. He breathed in, tasting the lake and the shadow of Acatl’s mouth on his own. “...I thought it was something you’d want to consider first.”

Acatl’s eyes gleamed; the spark in them made him look as young and vibrant as he really was in those moments when the burden of his office fell away, and Teomitl somehow fell even more in love. “I have.” His voice lowered to a near growl. “In great detail.”

Teomitl wasted no time summoning his ahuitzotls after that, only barely remembering to haul up the boat when they reached dry land.

It was, after all, a very secluded little island.

[tunes-on-a-typewriter]

Cosmopolitan: Prologue

(mentions: war, death)

“What a strange smell” thought Alexander. It seemed to him as if this smell evoked memories that lay far back, memories that had been hidden in the furthest corner of his mind for a long time. Angrily he shook his head. Don't get sentimental, he said to himself. Oh yes, the time before the war. There it was, dancing in the mist of his mind like a restless ballerina. The ones he had admired as a little boy, back in November 1909, when they stood outside the opera in Paris and and stared up into the faces of the great composers, above all Mozart in the middle, waiting to get in and see a performance of “Swan Lake” or “Cinderella”. And each of these spinning mystical creatures looking like Bethee at the train station, waving with her handkerchief.

“Ha, now you are getting sentimental again” he scolted. Instead of thinking of the past, he decided to look out of the window. If one tried hard, one could already see a slight green on the branches of the birch trees.

“I should really surround my brain with a cornea” he thought, at the same moment laughing at the repulsive comparison. “Well, at least I can laugh about my own jokes again. This is progress indeed.”

The train stopped. Alexander picked up his luggage and stepped out onto the platform. There, on the other end, in the frozen afternoon sun, he saw the tall and meagre silhouette of his brother who, his hands crossed behind his back, looked stiffly in his direction. Alexander knew this look. This was exactly the way Travis had stared when their father's coffin was slowly lowered into the ground. Unlike Alexander, Travis had always got along quite well with his father, and his death had affected him more than he would admit.

Travis showed no movement until Alexander stood directly in front of him. Then he raised his hands and for a second Alexander thought he was going to hit him, but instead he hugged him very briefly and firmly.

“Well, here I am again,” he said.

“Did you have a pleasant trip?”

“Oh, most pleasant. I met a very nice girl on the train and she was the cutest thing I'd ever seen, until she told me she had a dozen self-shot hares in her suitcase.”

“She did not.”

Alexander smiled. “No, indeed she did not. She was engaged.”

“Which is almost as bad,” said Travis. “Come on, let’s go. The Marquis of Brentwood is coming for dinner and I would simply hate to keep him waiting.”

“Does he bring his wife?” Alexander asked, slightly panicking.

“Now, what do you think? Of course he does!”

“Oh no! Then I have to dance waltzes all evening again!”

They both chuckled and walked over to the large dark blue Rolls Royce that Jeffries, the chauffeur, had respectfully parked in the background.

“Of course I am glad to be back again,” Alexander thought. “At least here everything is still the same.”

When they had been driving for a while Travis leaned over to him and said quietly, "By the way, Maude Fidget is dead.”

I hope you like it so far!

taglist: @alias-levi​ @hildy-dont-be-hasty​ @writerlywonders​ @buster-keaton @rememberedkisses @writingbyjillian​. If you would like to join the taglist, just ask or dm me! :)

[davidlynchschreibner]

It seems I come bearing another topical bouquet of fluff rather than the fic I am actually trying to finish. This one is Actual Rubbish and ran away from me a bit. But I’ve always wanted to see closeness and health in Matteo’s repairing relationship with his mother. I do not excuse what we know of the parenting problems that led Matteo to distance himself, however, this is meant to be a positive--- perhaps even sappy--- take. (Should I write one about David’s godmother too? Let me know because I have some thoughts.)

A note: Parts of this belong to a list of headcanons I started before the pandemic hit and as such imagine a world where we don’t have that reality. Is that out of line with the real-world spirit of Druck? Yes. Am I coping with life by writing about what this year should have been? Also yes.

Most Radiant Suns And Sons

For all that he lacks certainty about if he wants to go out with the boys tonight, what mood he will be in the following week, where he will live the month after, and what career he will pursue in the coming year, there are a few things that Matteo is sure of. One of these is that he loves his mother. Even in the stifling mineshaft of his depression he had never fully divorced himself from wanting to be near her. Indeed, if he did not love her with the strength he does he would never have grappled with their relationship and stressed over her reaction to certain elements of his person. Instead would have simply excised her in all but name from his life as he had his shitty father. Not every person is given to this kind of bond to their mother and there was nothing whatsoever requiring him to welcome her back into his life. But no matter what bitter edge his references to her had acquired in past painful periods, it was only the gritted teeth tone of an injured person and never real resentment.

That was the hardest part of it all, really, that he was so overwhelmed and exhausted he had to withdraw for his own sake. He had needed to be free of the sucking drain of his mother’s downward spiral. It was impossible to be there when his own developing depression rendered him inert by spreading numbness from the center of his chest to the tips of his fingers. He couldn’t care for another person, should never have had to, as he slowly surrendered to the weight of shovelfuls of damp earth burying him alive. Yet in the same breath that dismissed her he sighed with missing the lightness of Mama’s laugh and the slow flow of her hands carding through his hair. He pushed her away, cast his eyes to the ground, but could not tell her to stop calling him. However many congested streets and neglected texts he positioned between them there remained (in dim corners he avoided examining) a craving for tenderness and acceptance.

Their reconciliation was a soft-spoken and understated process. It came as the slow creep of dawn, a gentle spilling of light into the dark expanse of a troubled time. There was no reproach nor tense conversations. They spoke little of the past estrangement, save for the day Mama drew her son into the safe harbor of her arms and whispered her apology into his open ear. Matteo blotted the tears that came to his eyes on her shoulder and murmured back in kind. There was no need to unpack and pick through each mistake and no blame to assign. Proceeding amends were made with time spent in building a more stable place for their bond to live. Bricks of mellow afternoon visits, insulation of long hugs and kisses pressed to Matteo’s brow, wires of smiling conversations, carpet of revisited memories from happier periods of childhood. They came to each other as new and bettered people with a long future ahead.

On the opposite side, David didn't anticipate ever having a relationship with his boyfriend's mum beyond polite interest. He had no intimacy and little contact with the woman whose body had sculpted him and his godmother’s affection was backed by a lifetime of filling that void. The potential for rejection had been in his mind as the dull ache of a yellowed bruise when they went to meet Matteo’s Mama. She greeted him by clasping his hand in her fine-boned fingers and telling him she wished they had met sooner. Her voice was soft like a lullaby and she regarded him with eyes that promised multitudes of care. Perhaps he should have expected she would step over the threshold of his increasingly populated bunker and plop herself onto the bare floor the same way Matteo had. She never treated him like a stranger; instead she still looks at him with the same saltwater-blue wave of fondness that her son does. 

After months of getting to know and trust her David felt it was safe to explain the part of him that provided context to stories of the rocky start to his relationship with Matteo. Though her inexperienced confusion showed in the wrinkled skin around her eyes and a halting request for clarification, she received his explanation without resistance. Her reassurance that this would not change her perception was the kind of compassionate acceptance he wished his own mother had offered. Never once did she make him feel any less than he had been when she thought he was cis. She affirms him by treating him exactly the same as her son, aside from the little opportunistic affirmations she includes to make warmth swell inside him. He can see the protectiveness coiled in her shoulders when he mentions his past, a readiness to defend him from the whole world if she has to. There is a space kept for him in the circle of her sun-freckled arms. He well and truly loves her.

When the pleasant weather of 2019 began to fail everyone unconciously clustered closer together as if to keep warm. Filled by a renewed craving for home and closeness Matteo and David set aside one night each week to have dinner at Mama's new flat. It doesn't matter which day it is, or who is cooking, or how any one person is feeling. If Mama is not well Matteo cooks, or if he isn't able then she does, and on rare occasions it's up to David to rally his skills at reading recipes in Mama’s looping hand. But no matter what the mechanics are they make the family ritual work. Their attentive support of each other will catch whoever is sinking to the ground. What began as an effort to reconnect becomes an irreplaceable cornerstone of their lives. It's an opportunity to look after one another that the three of them need after that cold period of feeling so alone. In the humid, fragrant air of a cozy kitchen their wounds scab over, heal, and fade. 

It was actually his mother that convinced Matteo to seek therapy. David never pressed the issue with expectations or made his boyfriend feel broken for the recurrence of foggy moods and anxiety attacks. Not even when they stumbled and slogged through another major depressive episode. All around him people were prepared to meet Matteo’s needs as best they could determine. But braving the elements without a map or proper gear would find everyone in desperation at the end. He came to his decision not through any coercion or frustration but by observing his Mama. Counseling and medication helped her so much and she spoke candidly with him of her mental health struggles as she had felt unable to when he was younger. They have a better relationship now than over the many years of her dipping condition and inconsistent functioning. Matteo wanted to have those coping skills, too, so with the faithful support of his loved ones he sought the resources to help him. 

As spring began to swell buds and moods Mama rediscovered gardening. Her therapist prescribed something meditative with a tangible positive result, and she at first floundered unmoored until Matteo reminded her of the small plot she once tended so skillfully. To gently encourage her confidence he and David picked out a houseplant to gift the next time they visited and the smile she received it with was incandescent. After a few weeks of devout indoor care she broached the subject of planting a small and uncomplicated bed. Matteo grinned with all his teeth when she asked if they would help her. Being plant-lovers themselves the boys took pleasure in joining Mama there. Matteo found a profound connection to his body and its proximity to the people around him with his hands thrust into the crumbling earth. Sometimes they worked in the companionable silence of three introspective personalities. Others, they spoke about deep things as people only do while working. The garden is a good place. There they are putting down a lot of roots and not all of them belong to plants.

Mama has always been a fan of the outdoors, as Matteo recalls from sticky summer picnics and the rich smell of soil on her hands when they cupped his sunburnt cheeks. Not all his childhood memories are happy but the silhouettes of wild grass and lake shores come through a golden soft-focus lens. When Mama discovered David’s athleticism she joined forces with him to plan hikes, swimming trips, and numerous walks. Matteo was not sedentary by nature but he was then getting more exercise than he had since he was a child.  At first he wheezed and dragged and had to be motivated by David’s cunning tactic of turning everything into a competition. (It worked, mostly, save that time they were overly ambitious enough to try hiking in the Grunewald for an entire day and Matteo was so tired he sat down right in the center of the path.) Yet he didn’t mind the way his limbs were like ungainly cannons as he towed them up the stairs following a day of walking. At odds, his chest felt light and well aired out. 

When the summer set in fully Matteo found himself more often outside, be it jogging slowly after David while he ran in the morning, tending the garden with Mama (he discovered he finds pulling weeds cathartic), or engaged in some activity with his friends that required him to move more than his heat-softened limbs would like. He would once have complained of the insidious sunburn that always seemed to find cracks in his suncream application and pools of sweat that made his clothes clammy. But that was another time and another Matteo, one younger and less conscious of how special his relationships are. He loves all his people with the deceptively muted fire of a star, no matter what it is they ask of him. When they set themselves up for a day in the park the world seemed to roll wide before him. There was nothing on it he loved more than seeing the happy flushed faces of his favourite people glowing in the sun.

It was a surprising revelation that Matteo gets his sense of mischief from his mother. She has the peaceful face of a fresco saint and speaks quiet like they're in church but her son has her heart. David was thrown at first by her playful, teasing, impish side. It flickered up like bright sparks and the first few times Matteo seemed to cringe away as if he too was surprised. But over time he rediscovered a long discarded rapport and began to play back. David watched with laughing eyes and raised brows when she and Matteo got going at each other. And it wasn’t long before Mama started teasing David too. For such a kind person she could be a bit of a menace. It was completely endearing and welcome. She stuck soapy hands in her son’s hair to make horns and Matteo squawked then retaliated by swiping bubbles under her nose like a mustache. It was the kind of absurdity David had never imagined such a quiet woman could perform. He thought it fantastic.

She had met them briefly when Matteo moved in but it took time and meditation on the prospect to invite Mama into life at the WG. It was not a matter of shame regarding either party. He wasn’t certain of a friendship between a relatively conservative older woman and the youthful wildness of his flatmates. But he knew that to bring his mother fully back into his life this important part of it needed to be shared. He needn’t have worried. Mama loved Hans, who learned quickly that he need not don a costume to earn her respect. They spoke to one another with the soft intimate tone of kindred spirits united by their common depth of caring and love of one particular boy. Victoria flitted around like a bright bird that made Mama smile warmly and rest her hand upon its head. Though she was not over often due to being easily tired the WG was happy to tuck her into its embrace. With his Mama, David, and his flatmates arranged on furniture around him Matteo felt completely and contentedly at home.

Matteo had never experienced the sort of profound faith his mother enjoyed. Church was more a cultural experience than a religious one. Whenever she felt up to it Mama read stories from the bible to him before bed but he never did internalize them as divine truth. He enjoyed the reverent music and beautiful architecture as a child but felt always a little drained after service. The one thing he had an affinity for was choir, though he abandoned that activity when he was old enough to be concious of how uncool it was. Church was not something which he would attend alone but did so on occasion to spend time with his mother. She took immense comfort and pride in sharing her sacred experience with him and he in turn felt a modicum of satisfaction when she beamed at him over the pages of her choir book. Sometimes David joined them. Those services were the best, when Mama radiated joy on the right side of Matteo and he had David’s warm hand curled in his left.

Mama once him that he is the light in her world. She tips her head back to look at him like a person enjoying the sun after weeks of overcast weather. So he tries to show her his brightest face. He knows she is proud of him regardless of what he does in life. When he is slow to make decisions or arrange important sentences she tells him that he cannot disappoint her. Whatever gives him nourishment is what she dreams for him. It’s a comfort to know he doesn’t have to strive to make sweeping changes to the world and lofty successes to be valuable. It is possible to be wholly a sum of his many individual parts, imperfect as some are. Mama admires the gentle halo of his warmth, the wicked tilt of his smile as he sweeps mischief onto unsuspecting moments, the clever snap of his tongue and his restless fingers, the immeasurably gentle way he clasps close those who are struggling. He is her beautiful boy and she would want no other.

He is proud of his Mama, too, for taking the difficult steps that had moved her from the bottom of the hill to climbing its side. Sometimes she stumbles, slides back, even has to stop and sit for a bit to give her lungs rest. But she always digs her walking stick into the ground and begins the ascent again. Her legs burn with the strain but she does not let it stop her. Once Matteo had experienced deep dread that he was just like his mother. It had seemed to be so when he lost all interest in participating in the world. He sees now that it was true in its way: he is like his mother. But she passed on to him more than her sadness. Like an ocean of kindness she washes into him, their borders delineated by landmasses and temperature but ultimately comprised of one great expanse of water. They are not the same, he would not have it so, but he is no longer afraid of how they are alike. He has joys and and struggles and fears and victories the same as she. And Matteo loves his Mama.

[kathyprior4200]

Roo (fan interpretation)

Roo profile (fan made)

Roo is a character in Hazbin Hotel.

Character information (fan made):

True name: Roxanne

Nicknames: Trash Queen, Roxy (by her sister)

Date of birth: early 1970s/late 1960s?

Date of death: 1990s?

Cause of death: Burning in incinerator

Likes: Killing demons, working with herbs, singing, playing Australian music, fashion, successful trash days

Dislikes: Her boss, her sister, demons remarking on her ugly appearance

Sexuality: Bi

Species: Human (Previously), Kangaroo Demon

Gender: Female

Age: 20s-30s

Abilities: Trash picking, herbal brewing, weaponry, strong punches/kicks, using her parasite, carrying items

 Occupation: Trash Queen, trash picker, body disposer

Family: Kanga (Older angel sister)

Unnamed Mother

Unnamed Father

Friends: ?

Enemies: ?

Status: Inactive in the show (as of 2020)

Voice actor: N/A.

First appearance: N/A

 Appearance:

Roo is a Kangaroo demon. She has wild aburn hair, partially black and partially brown and curly in the shape of flames. Her eyes are orange with white iris and heavy eyelids. Her skin is pale with orange freckles.

 Roo wears an orange dress with sleeves in spike designs. She wears a checkered pin and chain necklaces, plus black bands on her arms. She also wears a black, magenta like wide brimmed hat with an orange and white checkered design on the inside.

 Abilities:

Natural abilities: Demon Transformation

Like every other demon, Roo possesses the ability to transform into her Full Demon Form and back to her default form with ease.

 Skillset:

Hand-to-hand combat: Roo can deliver strong punches and kicks like kangaroos.

 Weaponry: Roo can use guns and knives and is shown to store an angelic blade for emergencies.

 Item hoarding: Roo has the ability to store items inside her natural expandable pouch and retrieve them.

 Parasite Summoning: Though hard to control at times, Roo can summon her parasite to attack demons and dig through trash by opening her mouth.

 Herbal brewing: Roo has knowledge on herbs and uses them for tea, healing and poisoning other demons.

 Music: Roo can play the didgeridoo, the bullroarer and other Aboriginal Australian instruments as well as some other classic European/Western ones.

 Building and recycling: Roo’s house is made of trash fused together and her clothing is made from recycled material.

 Trivia:

Roo is Australian. Her name, “Roo” is Australian slang for kangaroo.

 Roo’s name is also slang for an ugly, clumsy, or idiotic woman in Australian. This is fitting, given her crazed nature and appearance.

 Roo is French for herb,” Rue also means “Street” or “regret.”

 Her sister’s name, Kanga, is the other part of kangaroo. Her name is slang for “police officer,” or “travel bug.”

 Kanga was the more obedient sibling, and thus the favored one. Roo was frequently jealous of her beauty and popularity. The final straw came when Kanga/Kahla almost got her arrested for her body disposing crimes and her rebellious attitude.

 Kanga is an angel and kangaroo humanoid while Roo is a demon. Roo shows no real desire to see her again, but will go into a confrontation if she does see her.

 Roo can play the didgeridoo, the bullroarer and other Aboriginal Australian instruments as well as other classic European/Western ones.

 Cherri Bomb is another character who was originally from Australia.

 The unofficial shipping name for Cherri Bomb and Roo would be RoomerBang (combination of Roo and boomerang)

 All the chapters are trash puns (Down in the Dumps, One Person’s Trash Is Another’s Treasure, Let’s Blow This Dump, etc.)

 “Thank You For The Venom” may be a fitting My Chemical Romance song for her.

  Chapter One: One Person’s Trash Is Another’s Treasure

 Junkyards and landfills were not pleasant places to be at.

 This was especially true in Hell.

 Along with drinking, using drugs, gambling and killing people, the denizens of Hell wasted food and littered like there was no tomorrow. Indeed, it was not uncommon to see broken bottles, cans, paper, and plastic strewn about in the streets. Much of the garbage in Hell ended up in towering landfills…taller than the ones in Australia and the most populated countries on Earth. Nearby, hazardous chemicals flowed into the fiery lakes and oceans, adding to the already torturous experience of the souls trapped underneath. Water, let alone clean water, was a rare concept among the fiery inferno…hence the alcoholic drinks being the most common beverage.

 The rotting overpowering stench steered many demons away from the landfills beyond the wired fence.

 Save for one demon who, more or less, called the vast yard of junk home.

 The woman was currently on her knees on the ground in front of a large pile of rubbish. She wore torn black pants, dark high boots and a jacket made from tanned leather that was originally Hellhound dung. Her undershirt was bright orange and a black and white checkered pin was stuck on the left side of the jacket.

 Her hair was wild and wavy, aburn in color. Her hair was black at the crown of her head and ended in a lighter brown at the ends. Some of the ends of her hair curled up and flowed out like flames. In fact, a few areas of her clothing had peeled apart, the pieces slowly floating away. The demon had white skin with tiny orange spots on it. But it was her bright orange eyes with white pupils and her rows of sharp teeth that made her intimidating. An incinerating fire seemed to crackle throughout her body, remaining sealed in by the demon’s willpower alone.

 Digging her sharp claws into the pile, the demon rummaged through the array of discarded items, before ending up with a handful of trash in her white hands. She placed it on the ground and peered closely at it. She sorted through it, tossing aside bits of plastic with her fingertips. She spotted what looked like the remains of a demon finger. She popped it into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully before continuing her work. Toward the end, she brushed aside some paper and found something glinting…a soul. Not the essence of a being but rather, a form of Hell’s currency. The demon smiled and picked up the shiny black coin.

 “Roo, you’ve done it again,” she praised herself. “Demons just don’t know what they throw away.”

 Roo pocketed the coin in a jean pocket and rummaged through more piles. Unlike the day before, she had gotten lucky in a few hours. She had found a near-empty bottle of whisky, half of a gold necklace, some rope, and some old boots. She pulled down her pants a little, exposing her pale stomach. With several grunts, the area below her stomach jutted out until a large natural pouch was revealed. It looked similar to a pouch of a mother kangaroo and had a similar function to it. Unlike kangaroos though, Roo stored weapons and materials in there. She deposited her treasures inside before retracting the pouch back into herself.

 Time for the next stage of the job.

 Roo was already used to the stench of garbage…her nose was barely there, so she hardly smelled much of anything. As she was already dead, she didn’t have to worry as much about infections and disease. Still, she was always careful about who or what she came into contact with. Like unknown containers, demons could be valuable at first glance but actually be laced with toxicity.

 At last, she made her way back to her home…a trash home fit for a queen.

 The entrance was actually at the top of a temple made of trash, crates, and fused pieces of paper and glass. The temple had five different layers, each getting smaller and narrower toward the top. It was reminiscent of a small Aztec temple. She walked up the stairs until reaching the top. The top was covered by a round mound of trash glued together forming a sort of round roof. She walked into the small open cave and glanced down at a wooden trapdoor. She pressed a button lodged into the wall and the door opened. Without hesitation, she jumped down into the square opening.

 Flop!

 Roo landed safely on a soft bouncy mattress at the bottom. She stepped off the mattress and headed through the first underground opening.

 Roo’s lair was, in fact, underground, the exit consisting of a set of stairs that led up to a spot just outside the junkyard. The walls were made of a combination of rock and trash fused together. There was wiring along the walls to provide light and electricity. The windows were made of multicolored glass set within the walls in each room. Down a narrow hallway, an arched smooth concave area in a wall showed boomerangs of different shapes on display. On another wall were weapons, axes and a few guns. Plus there lay a single angelic spear which she had traded a bucket of opals and souls for on the black market…and nearly got killed getting it.

 The living room and kitchen were small and humble. There was a square wooden table with a checkered cloth for eating, a stove, a sink, a refrigerator, some chairs, and some wooden shelves attached to the wall. An array of potions and herbs stood on the shelves, some pushed further back into shadowed corners. In the living room was an old flowered couch, an orange rug and an old fashioned TV with large knobs off to the upper right. The lights overhead were round, with several air shafts in the ceiling. A small slope of rock with a handle bar led up to the bathroom. Pictures of monstrous kangaroos hopping in fiery fields and demon meat set tastefully on platters decorated the walls of the living room.

 Roo made it into her bedroom, a room with a queen size bed and a tubular fluorescent light over the headboard. 60s and 70s style abstract artwork hung on the walls, while skulls of demons and mythical creatures lined the shelves. Her most prized skull was that of a crocodile demon, whom she had wrestled over a box of gold and opals. Another bastard demon had stolen the box while they were distracted. Roo had promptly killed the crocodile without mercy. She had managed to get several fallen opals, which she kept in a special spot on her dresser. She opened up her closet and found the outfit she was looking for.

 Moments later, she was dressed in a bright orange dress that ended half way up her upper legs. The front collars of the dress by her shoulders had spiked edges as part of the design. A black and white checkered pin was pinned onto the front. Black bands encircled her arms along with a dark choker around her neck. Tall black boots covered her feet, while two chain necklaces dangled and clinked when she moved. Her look was completed with an Akubra style hat with a wide brim, outlined orange. The hat itself was similar to her hair color, black to a brownish color, perhaps maroon. The hat had a small pinkish orange circular design on the top. Once Roo was ready, she made her way up and out the exit door, taking care to lock it. Stepping back into the Hellish heat wasn’t pleasant…her home provided her with brief relief.

 Roo swayed her hips as she walked into the Hell 666 club. The interior was noisy and vibrant. The walls and ceiling were coated in neon pinks, purples and blues, with openings of a large aquarium visible. Eels, sharks and fish swam around in the water, providing a more relaxing atmosphere for stressed out patrons. Several demons sitting at round white-clothed tables stopped and stared at her. Their eyes held a mixture of awe and disgust. Roo ignored the hushed mutters as she passed.

 “Is that the trash lady?”

 “Yeah, the Aussie girl.”

 “She would be hotter if she weren’t so dirty all the time.”

 “A scum living among the garbage. So glad I’m not her. She’s an ugly, clumsy bitch!”

 “If she likes to get down and dirty, then I’ll happily give her a few pointers. Heh, heh, heh.”

 There was a series of “phews” and cat calls that rang in her ears. Roo took a seat at the bar next to a blue muscular dragon with orange tattoos along his arms. The dark blue bull bartender stomped over and noticed her. “Yeah?”

 “Hit me up with a cold one if you please,” she said. “Gores Fight 1969.”

 She reached into her pocket and fished out several soul coins. The bartender took them and marched off.

 The blue muscular dragon turned to a slender light blue dragon next to him. The dragon stabbed a knife into the table and grinned up at a TV overhead.

 The muscular blue dragon turned to his friend and a pink overlord dragon with wild yellow hair. He laughed when he watched Charlie on TV.

 “Is this girl for real? Ha! Does she think…oh she’s haha…oh she’s nuts!”

 Roo glanced up and heard that Charlie was talking about some kind of hotel that was going to be used to redeem sinners. What a joke. Roo perceived her as a secluded princess who decided to make a public joke after being cooped inside for so long. Hell really was a burning madhouse inside a circus. Or was it circus inside a madhouse?

 Roo turned to the blue muscular dragon and put on her most innocent face. “Greetings my fine fellow dragon. Need something to drink?”

 The dragon scoffed and made a face. “If you’re talking about it that way, hell no. You’re not my type.”

 “No, I mean to actually drink.”

 She pulled out the near empty bottle from her pouch.

 “Not from that dirty glass,” scoffed the dragon. “Looks like someone threw it out!”

 “And what fools they are,” she added, already conjuring up a scam. “This is not just any drink. This is liquor from the oldest bar in Hell. This bottle is said to have been full during the last freeze over in Hell…occurs every 100 years or so. Lilith herself drank from this very bottle before storing it away.”

 “Ha! No way!”

 “DNA and spit never lie. Taste it for yourself.”

 The dragon reached for the bottle but Roo held it out of reach. “It’ll cost you…let’s say twenty souls.”

 “Twenty souls?! Nonsense! Even if the queen did drink from it, it’d be worth far less. Like one and a half.”

 “Turning down an opportunity just like that? And they say I’m trash.”

 “I’ll pay you two souls.”

 “Twenty. Nothing more or less.”

 The dragon sighed and handed her twenty coins. Roo greedily stuffed them into her pouch. Her ice cold beer arrived in front of her and she happily gulped down several gulps.

 The dragon hastily spit out the contaminated whiskey. “You conning bitch! Give me back my money!”

 “Finders keepers,” she grinned.

 “I’ll kill you right here and now!”

 She stood up and calmly smoothed out her dress. “How about this? You’ll have to pay me extra if you want to keep your arms.”

 The two of them made their way to the center of the area. The crowd glanced up at them, some of them eager to see a fight, while others rolled their eyes at the sight of another Tuesday brawl.

 The dragon rushed at her and she dodged, dashing under tables and avoiding his thick fists. The dragon growled and clenched his fists, landing a painful blow to her stomach. Roo grunted out loud and managed to roll out of the way before the dragon slammed a fist into the floor. Roo lacked the dragon’s strength, but her lighter frame made her more agile and faster. Several times, she mocked the dragon, tearing her claws against his skin, which was more of an annoyance than a discomfort.

 “You know, I’ve had a long fucking day,” the dragon grunted. “So how about I take whatever you have in your pouch and be on my way.”

 “I don’t think so, you brute.”

 “Heh, heh, heh, little lady has a death wish!”

 The dragon let out an intimidating roar, but Roo remained unfazed.

 “You hungry? Get ready for a knuckle sandwich!” he called.

  Scratching and sharp moving sensations erupted in her core. It felt like hunger mixed with kicks and sharp pains. If one listened closely, they could hear low growls from inside her. Roo was indeed, hungry.

But she was not the only one.

 Roo grinned, staring down at herself. Her voice grew lower and distorted. “I think it’s time to eat.”

 She opened her fanged mouth wide. Drops of dark colored spit and blood poured down onto the floor, dark magenta in color. Emerging from her mouth was an orange serpent-like creature. It was a slender parasite with white spikes all over its body. The small head had a single white eye on top, with longer spikes jutting from the crown. Smaller spikes were curled in near its mouth like spider pinchers. On its side was another large white eye, outlined in an orange aura.

 In addition, the creature had two kinds of appendages. One were several pairs of metallic legs with little orange spots on them. The ends of the insect-like legs had blades fastened to them. At least a dozen small black tendrils were also connected to the creature, including a larger black clawed appendage with glowing white-orange eyes inside.

 “What the fuck is that?!” the blue dragon yelled, his eyes wide with fear.

 The blue dragon soon found out when the parasite leapt toward him, legs ready. The dragon ducked and promptly ran for his life. A lighter colored blue dragon charged forward, only to have the creature slice a good cut onto the scales of his neck. The dragon roared in pain and tossed the creature away. He stared at the cut in disbelief…almost nothing else save for an angelic weapon could pierce through dragon hide. The parasite landed on the ground, right next to a demon. He was a green man who had catcalled Roo earlier.

 Roo’s brown and black hair flickered wildly, increasing in heat.

 “Still wanna call me hot?” she asked playfully to him.

 Without warning, the parasite jumped and attacked the green demon, tearing his clothes with the bladed limbs. Several demons raced for the exit, only to be grabbed by the creature’s tentacles and pulled back, screaming. The parasite held several demons in its larger black claw. The parasite opened its fanged mouth and took several deadly bites. The green man’s eyes rolled to the back of his head after a high pitched wail escaped his mouth. His blood, energy and life force left him, as the parasite drank it up from the bleeding wound in his chest. The man fell still and appeared lifeless.

 “Hey, isn’t that the guy who could hypnotize people?” one demon asked, holding a knife in shaking hands.

 “That’s right,” Roo said from behind him. Her orange eyes glowed in the dimness of the room. The demon reeled back in terror.

 “Roo continued. “He won’t have his powers anymore if he ever survives.”

 Roo then grinned and pointed upwards. The demon barely had time to look when the parasite landed and bit hard into his face, causing him to stumble and fall. Roo used the opportunity to steal several glasses of beer and stuff them into her pocket. Roo kangaroo-kicked a beetle demon hard, sending her backwards and cracking her ribs. A long spiked kangaroo tail emerged from Roo’s lower back, the appendage swiping away several demons who had tried to reach her. The bull bartender ran for his life. Roo glanced back and the fallen male demon already had his heart ripped out. The last chunks of organs were traveling down inside the parasite in small round bulges. Blood coated the parasite’s orange body and white limbs.

 The unleashed beast began to feast in a frenzy. It leapt from demon to demon, biting into them, sucking out their energy, or in some cases, traveling inside them before bursting out in a shower of blood. There was hardly anyone left in the facility after the parasite was done. The creature consumed and swallowed several of the corpses, not even leaving any bones behind. There were a few unconscious demons left…and those were the ones that the parasite had laid fresh eggs in, shaped like small glowing eyes. Roo herself, feasted on the remaining dead…fresh flesh had never tasted so good. She could see why it was the favorite classic food of demons.

 There would be quite a few sick demons in the near future. Roo laughed at the thought.

 Roo casually pulled off a dead demon’s arm and munched on it. She swung the arm at a demon straining to stand…he was soon knocked out.

 “Another good trash pickup,” Roo said with a sigh as she disposed and burned the rest of the remains. It was as mundane to her as successfully cleaning a house or yard would be to a human. Every year, Roo would be assigned the most horrific jobs in the sewers, having to pick up trash, poop and other waste from careless demons. And every year after the Exterminators attacked, Roo and the parasite would roam the streets, disposing of bodies and consuming them. When she wasn’t paid, which was nearly all the time, she would scam others for money, often posing as a prostitute or dancer. Any lone passerby who intruded on the Trash Queen’s territory was promptly burned or crushed in a landfill.

 Indeed, Roo was often looked down upon due to her roles in Hell. She was a rebel and a delinquent, with a ferocious side that often longed to break free…in this case it did.

 “Satisfied?” Roo asked the creature.

 The chaotic being chittered and rumbled in confirmation. It scurried over to her on its legs before stopping at her feet. The white and black appendages retracted into itself, along with the spikes. Its worm-like body wagged and wiggled, like it was ready to pounce, but it wasn’t in an aggressive way. The eye blinked several times. Roo knew what it wanted. Roo opened her mouth again and the creature sprang back into the mouth of its host. The body and tail vanished down her throat before she closed her mouth. Roo felt more energy and nutrients flow through her. She felt the creature curl up in her core and settle down. Roo’s tail and demonic features retracted as she turned back to her default form.

 The parasite would always need to feed every day, least it start gnawing at Roo’s insides after too long. Fortunately, Roo was diligent in caring for the creature. It couldn’t endure Hell’s heat and dryness for too long, so it lived in the more habitable environment inside Roo. The creature shared Roo’s common diet of blood and meat...the typical demon diet. Roo couldn’t remember when she had first made contact with the thing, but ever since then, it never left.

 A pleased and full Roo made her way out of the club and out onto the street. Blood stained her mouth and clothes but it could easily be washed later on. Nearby, a dumpster exploded from one of the red shaped bombs thrown by Cherri Bomb. Roo casually watched the battle between Sir Pentious and his Egg minions versus Angel Dust and Cherri Bomb.

 “Hell will be mine!” declared the snake inventor villain from inside his ship.  She was dressed elegantly in a gray suit with yellow stripes with a matching gray top hat with an eye and sharp yellow teeth like its owner. “And everybody will know the name of Sir…”

 “Edgelord!” a voice taunted.

 “Pardon?! Who said that?” he demanded.

 He leaned in close to two Egg Bois and hissed. “What did you just say to me, you fried chicken fetuses?!”

 The eggs quivered.

 “Speak up!” he hissed.

 “Um it wasn’t us, Mr. Bossman!” said an egg.

 Just then, a bomb shaped like a red cherry with a black skull on it, crashed through the window, flipped through the air and landed with a few bounces on the floor. The fuse was lit and a spark traveled down the wire. Sir Pentious and the eggs flinched before the bomb exploded into thick red clouds of smoke. Sir Pentious coughed and shook his head.

 “You looking for a fight, old man?” asked Cherri Bomb with a grin.

 She was a white cyclops demon with blonde and pink hair tied back into a long ponytail. She wore a high pink boot with white stripes on it on her left foot and a white and pink sock on her right foot. She had long black leggings with holes in them. Merging into her leggings on top was a pink bottom with white circles on it. Her medium pink crop top was short and was looped over her left shoulder, with a black bra underneath. A black x was shown on the crop top over her left breast. She wore black fingerless gloves that extended to her elbows, black on the left arm, gray with stripes and hearts on her right arm. A large pink eye with a yellow x on it took up much of her face, along with a grin of sharp white teeth. Freckles dotted her pale skin.

 Cherri Bomb was catching another bomb in her right hand.

 “Why don’t you get that pathetic tinker toy bullshit off my turf before I smash it…”

 A barrel crashed to the floor…

 “…more.” She finished.

 “Oh, you wanna go miss?” asked the snake. He flipped back his hood. “Well, I’d be happy to oblige!” He laughed as the Egg Bois marched forward with stun guns.

 “Catch me if you can, snakeman!”

 Cherri dodged the blasts and jumped out of the ship. She landed with a graceful flip on the ground before running off to summon more bombs and explosives.

 “I like my eggs scrambled!” she declared, after brutally stomping on several eggs in her way. Cherri dodged green laser blasts from Sir Pentious’ blaster and threw an egg with a spin into Sir Pentious’ face. An egg held a flag that said “Boss’s number one fan.”

 Sir Pentious threw the egg back but Cherri threw another bomb and caught the egg with both hands. She cracked the egg in half with a swift knee jab. She lifted up the shells and enclosed the bomb inside. The egg flew back at Sir Pentious’ face in a blast of smoke.

 “This woman has some great spunk,” Roo thought.

 Soon, Angel Dust stomped on an egg and joined the fight. A pink explosion went off as Cherri and Angel continued to fight. Cherri held a metal gun while Angel took cover behind a rock.

 “Hey, thanks for the backup, Angie,” Cherri said.

 Angel Dust smiled and threw a bomb over his shoulder. Cherri fired a red blast from the cannon. A pink explosion followed.

 “Haha! Are you kidding? This is the best action I’ve seen in ages!”

 “Where’ve you been, anyway? I thought you up and died or some shit.”

 She removed a fuse with a loop on it from a bomb.

 “Oh I wish,” Angel replied, as he lit another bomb with a match. Cherri took a bomb with a light pink skull on it from Angel.

 Angel continued. “I’ve been staying at this crappy hotel on the other side of town.”

 Cherri threw the bomb and took cover beside Angel.

 “Some boards are letting me stay rent free if I play nice,” Angel said. Both of them covered their ears as the bomb exploded in a column of neon green smoke. They jumped over the rock and out into the open.

  Angel blasted continuous rounds of gunfire at oncoming egg bois.

 “Ya know, no fights, no pranks, no problematic, language. Her words, not mine.”

  He stomped on the ground, sending an egg boi flying into the sky toward the pentagram before it exploded in a yok mess.

 Angel held a club in one of his other hands.

 “These crazy bitches are no fun. I’ve been clean for two weeks!”

 Another bomb exploded in green clouds as Cherri skidded in the background. “Holy shit!” she called as she jumped back into action, with two bombs in her hands.

 Angel Dust was covered in egg yok. He dipped a finger in yok from his cheek. “Well, sorta clean,” he grinned. He smashed an egg to bits with his club.

 “As clean as you can get with a shitload of Bolivian marching powder.”

 Just then, black chains wrapped tightly around Angel’s waist. Cherri gasped as her friend was thrown hard to the ground a distance away by Sir Pentious.

 Angel landed and grinned.

 “Oh, harder daddy,” he teased in a flirtatious tone.

 Sir Pentious’ eyes teared up. “Son?!”

 Angel Dust raised his eyebrows and stared in disbelief.

 Cherri Bomb drop kicked Sir Pentious, knocking him to the ground. He hissed in anger and stood up.

 “You whores have no class! In war, the side remembered is the side with the most…style.” He sprang his bow tie for emphasis.

 “Or the side that ain’t dead,” Cherri retorted, breaking an egg boi in half and tossing it aside. Angel stood beside her, now free.

 “Speaking of style, is your hat like, alive or something?” Angel asked, wiggling his glowed fingers.

 “Well that’s none of your goddamn business, now is it?!” Sir Pentious retorted.

 “Wouldn’t that make your hat the top and you the bottom?”

 Angel and Cherri burst into laughter. “Ooooh,” said one of the eggs. “That’s one hellish burn.” A sign reading “loser” was pointed at Sir Pentious. Sir Pentious slapped the minion.

 “I’m gonna blow you to bits!” he declared at them.

 “Oh, kinky,” Angel grinned.

 “Not like that, pervert!” Sir Pentious yelled, pointing a finger.

 Angel Dust suddenly pushed Cherri out of the way as an Egg Boi behind him shot four black claws with eyes at Angel from a gun. The claws grabbed Angel’s wrists, preventing him from escaping.

 Sir Pentious grinned. “Not so cocky now, are we?”

 “Ya know, you really need to watch what comes out of your mouth,” Angel remarked. “I’ve been making these sex jokes this whole time.”

 Angel Dust narrowly dodged a metal spike coming out of the ground.

 “And it’s obvious you ain’t catching on. I mean it’s just sad!”

 Angel Dust grew two extra arms and there were guns in his hands. He blasted at Sir Pentious, freeing himself. Sir Pentious’ hat fell off.

 “Don’t you think you’re gonna get into a lot of trouble for this?” Cherri asked, walking sideways.

 Angel shrugged and retracted his extra arms. “Eh. What’s one more little brawl gonna cause?”

 “Glad you haven’t changed!” Cherri said, playfully elbowing him. “You know you’re my favorite guy to party with!”

 “You know it, sugar tits,” he replied.

 Cherri Bomb rolled another bomb over her shoulders before catching it. “You ready to finish this?”

 Angel clicked his gun. “Born ready, baby!”

 The two of them yelled as they charged at Sir Pentious. Sir Pentious eventually fled and Angel went off to ride in a white limbo to the hotel. Cherri sang as music played from her Walkman: “Hello, dad, hello mom, I’m your ch-ch-ch-ch, cherry bomb!”

 A few days later, Roo saw Cherri Bomb again and hid behind a wall to watch. This time she didn’t appear to be as happy and wild.

 Cherri Bomb thought back to when she comforted Angel Dust in bed after he had a rough night with Valentino. After that had happened, she blew up an advertisement sign with Valentino’s face on it. The face of her ex boyfriend would often come back to her: a man wearing white overalls, him having a gray face with a single hypnotizing eye, white hair, a spiked hat and an evil stitched up grin. The critical eyes of her brother and father also stared at her in her mind.

 Like other sinners, Cherri had been former human as well, having been born in the 60s in Australia and dying in the 80s at young adulthood from an explosion. Her sexuality was rumored to be bi, and she had been a radical rocker redhead feminist as a human.

 Cherri had fallen in love with another guy, who promised her money and power. But instead, he took advantage of her. Her father disapproved of both her rebellious behavior…and her bisexuality. Cherri’s boyfriend had kept the money for himself, while her father criticized her for her behavior and the friends she hung out with.

 It was all pretty much a repeat of what had happened in her living life…except without the dying by explosions bit.

 Cherri wondered how Angel Dust was faring with his Italian mafia family. Angel got along with his bubbly pink spider sister Molly, while he remained distant from his authoritative grey father Henroin and recluse black colored brother Arackniss. His white spider mother, Aranea, was in Heaven. Angel and his family had previously lived in New York when they were alive. Angel’s father did not approve of Angel leaving the mafia to pursue his porn star career and living life (and death) as a gay man. With being stuck under a contract from the moth pimp Valentino plus his addiction of drugs, drinking and the angel dust drug that had previously killed him, it seemed like the white spider had no way out.

  Cherri sat down on a ledge and opened up her laptop. She wished she could do more to help out her friend. Roo peered off, hidden by the wall. She crept forward to get a closer look. The VoxTube video on the computer read “Addict: Angel Dust At Peep Show/Cherri Bomb In Action.” The video had been filmed by officials at Hell Club 666.

 Angel and Cherri’s voice came from Cherri’s laptop, showing Angel Dust performing at a strip club, Valentino greedily watching. Angel stood as a silhouette against a glowing pink web with a heart on it. Angel spun several times around the pole.

 Angel’s voice came first as he sang:

 “’Till death do us part, but we’re already past that phase

This is a brand new start and I think I deserve some praise

For the way that I am

Despite having overdosed and ending up comatose

I don’t give a damn”

 Valentino eagerly watched the show from a couch, two furry women beside him. Valentino’s red smoke from his cigarette morphed into a hand that stroked Angel under his chin. Angel walked down the stairs and strolled down the aisle.

 “I’ve let my emotions go,

Fuck being a sober hoe

This is my mantra, this is my life

You’re playing with now ‘till the end of the night

Surrounded by fire, the passion ignites”

 Angel kicked a drooling Travis in the face with his boot.

 Valentino’s red smoke turned into manacles around his wrists and neck for a brief second. Angel inhaled the hearts in the smoke, then lay down and posed some more. A crowd of imps and demons watched, throwing money at Angel.  

 The video did not show Cherri Bomb comforting Angel in his room, though she remembered that clearly.

 “A hint of that Heaven and Hell, a helluva high”

 “I’m addicted to the madness

This hotel is my Atlantis”

 Hotel? What hotel? Roo was confused.

 “We’re forever gonna have a fucking reason to sin

Let me leave my soul to burn and I’ll be breathing it in”

 Angel pushed a beer bottle off the aisle. The camera moved to a ground burning with green flames. Cherri stood up on the roof, tossing a metal bomb in her hand. She leapt from roof to roof in the rain, throwing bombs to her heart’s content. She spun around and fired a bomb at a Valentino sign after flipping the bird.

 Cherri Bomb then sang in the video next, Cherri cringing at hearing her recorded voice:

 “I’m addicted to the feeling…”

 Then the video skipped to Angel Dust climbing the pole:

 “…getting higher than the ceiling

And we’re never gonna want this fucking feeling to end”

 Skipping back to Cherri swinging from a pole on the roof…

 “Just concede and give in to your inner demons again.”

 “This video editing is marvelous,” Cherri breathed. “Though I’m gonna blow the person who spied on me to bits.”

 The video then showed Valentino’s red limo driving in the rain. The one who filmed the video did not know what went on inside the limo. Valentino’s female clients kissing. Angel sitting next to Valentino, holding just enough money to get by. Valentino counting his money and grabbing Angel’s hand hard, forcing him to look up. Valentino gripping him hard by his chin. His tongue was out in front of Angel. He wanted Angel to kiss him, but Angel flinched away. Valentino forcefully pulled him in closer as the car kept driving.

 Only Cherri knew of Angel throwing his wine glass against the wall in his room, then collapsing in a tearful heap against his bed.

 The video switched bold letters read at the bottom: “Cherri captured singing on roof.”

 Roo listened as Cherri sang next, her eyes widening in admiration. Despite Cherri’s tendency to blow stuff up and be vicious, she had a kind side to her. And oh was her singing voice beautiful!

 “Yeah, you fell in love, but you fell deeper in this pit

While death rains from above, so count your blessings ‘cause this is it”

 Cherri leaned against a ledge as it rained. She walked over a puddle among broken green bottles. That day, Cherri had imagined her father’s face in the water…the memories not leaving. She fiddled with a bomb before flicking it to the ground. It exploded in a flash of pink. For some reason, Roo hated seeing this stranger sad.

 Cherri turned around and twirled on the roof.

  “You’re not letting it go

So what if I misbehave? It’s what everybody craves

You already know

So, come if you’re feeling brave and fancy yourself a mate

You want it, I got it, see what you like

We could have it all by the end of the night

Your money and power, my sinful delight

A hint of that Heaven and Hell, a helluva high”

 Cherri twirled around in front of a green neon sign that read Addict. TNT crates, round bombs and bundles of red fuses wrapped up surrounded the sign. Cherri loved seeing all those bombs everywhere. Already, she had felt more powerful and confident. She took out a lighter switch, pressed the button and everything blew up in pink smoke. Cherri dove off the roof, belly first, arms out with a grin on her face and spun as the video faded to white.

 “Don’t worry, she ain’t dead!” read the words against the screen. Cherri had to laugh a little at that part.

 Cherri and Angel would often imagine themselves dancing at an aquarium club, themed blue and pink before running out together and blowing it up. They would get ready in their dressing rooms before going on stage. She would be wearing a single yellow star over her eye, a cyclops version of sun glasses.  Cherri imagined herself twirling around, throwing bombs at the tables and chairs. A pink coat would be over her shoulders, reading “Cherri” on it and decorated with red cherries. And Angel Dust would be dancing beside her in tall boots, glasses, pink gloves, and a tight black corset outfit. They would spin around the poles and have a blast…immersed in pure freedom.

 But both Angel and Cherri knew…that it was all a dream.

 Cherri could almost hear her and Angel singing together.

 “I’m addicted to the madness

This hotel is my Atlantis

We’re forever gonna have a fucking reason to sin

Let me leave my soul to burn and I’ll be breathing it in

I’m addicted to the feeling, getting higher than the ceiling

And we’re never gonna want this fucking feeling to end

Just concede and give in to your inner demons again”

 “Just concede and give in to your inner demons again.”

I’m addicted to the feeling, getting higher than the ceiling

And we’re never gonna want this fucking feeling to end

Just concede and give in to your inner demons again”

 There was something else that only Angel Dust knew. The moment at the hotel when Charlie tried to comfort him, but he declined and turned his back on her. Other than Cherri, he had no reason to risk trusting anyone else. In addition, he had only known Charlie for a short time. He walked into his bedroom, and there was his pet pig, Fat Nuggets, looking up at him, his spots briefly glowing pink in the dark. A neon “love” sign was on the wall, along with clothes and porn magazines. There was a poster of fat Nuggets on the wall. His room had wigs on stands and several mirrors with round lights around the frames, like those at the studio. Angel picked up the pig and stared into the mirror.

 Helpless…

 A horrible flashback seared into Angel Dust’s mind: him wearing fluffy handcuffs and being anally raped by a grinning Valentino in the porn studio dressing room. Angel froze in fear before walking toward his bed. He threw away a partially used cigarette into an ashtray. The angel dust, the drugs, the porn, and money…all were highs that he had been addicted to for years…but the pleasure was only temporary. The pleasure only masked the pain for so long, until it came back with an aching soreness. The smoke revealed a broken heart.

 “I’m addicted to the sorrow, and the buzz ends by tomorrow

There’s another rush of poison flowing into my veins

Giving me a dose of pleasure that resides by the pain

I’m addicted, I’m dependent

Looking, awesome, feeling helpless”

 He knew he would have to face a terrible decision: stay in Hell with Valentino, or stay at the Hazbin Hotel and try to redeem himself. Risk disappointment from his boss, or painfully change his habits for a promise of unknown freedom. But giving up violence, porn and drugs, the major parts of his life? Easier said than done. Giving up two of his arms surely sounded easier.

 Angel wasn’t sure what caused him to throw away the cigarette early. Perhaps he knew that it was somehow “wrong” and decided to give his body a break.

  Hopefully, he would be safe at the hotel for now, with some new friends. Fat Nuggets sensed his distress and licked him under his chin. Angel smiled. At least he had his pet with him too.

 “And I know I’m raising cane by every highway in hell

Maybe things won’t be so terrible inside this hotel.”

 Cherri Bomb sighed, closed her laptop and walked away. This just left Roo awed by her appearance and full of more questions in her mind.

 Where was she from? What was that hotel…could it be the same one that the princess talked about?

 Roo sighed and headed back home. “Hopefully, I’ll find out.”

     Chapter Two: Let’s Blow This Dump

 Back in her underground lair, Roo relaxed in her rectangular swimming pool of blood. In the room stood a wide array of plants, many of them with drooping leaves in multiple layers. The window consisted of glass shards of multiple colors fused together in a scattered design. On the white brick wall flanked by round lights was a large painting of the Australian outback. In it, the sky was blue and under it were tall signature red rocks on a dessert ground.

 Roo sank her head of wild hair into the lukewarm liquid, the strong metallic scent filling her nose. Like other swimming pools in Hell, the “goreine” chlorine in the water made the blood undrinkable. Her white freckled legs and body were barely noticeable in the murky liquid.

 Her mind was reeling over the events of the last several days. She had seen Angel Dust and Cherri Bomb fight Sir Pentious in an action-packed turf war without being noticed. Then again, not many demons wanted to notice her in the first place…or worse, get noticed by her. Like the kangaroo, Roo appeared strange and exotic at first glance. But whoever got too close was in for a rough beat down, and a most certain second death if she so wished.

 Just the other day, she had glimpsed at the video on Cherri Bomb’s laptop. She had no reason nor real desire to waste her time, but she stayed nonetheless. Roo figured out that Charlie’s hotel, was indeed, taking in clients for free to try and get them on the right path. Though Roo overheard Angel Dust saying that he was only staying because it was free. Would this Cherri Bomb person stay there as well?

 Roo kept asking herself why she had been so curious about Cherri. Perhaps it was the spunky, rebellious side to her that was hardly seen in many women…at least in her previous life. To be able to just summon bombs from her hands like magic…Roo wondered why she couldn’t create balls of fire or gold from hers. Then again, she did have a bottomless pouch and a parasite, so she wasn’t one to complain.

 And the video left her with more questions. Could a rehab hotel actually work, or was it just a rubbish rumor?

 Roo decided to brush the issue aside. True or not, it was of no concern to her. Demons could choose what they wanted to do and live their lives…provided they did not interfere with hers.

 Sighing, Roo stepped up the concrete stairs, shook off the blood drops from her skin, and wrapped herself in a black towel. She walked through the arched tunnels and climbed up the small slope to the dunny to wash up and do her business. She walked back down, dressed in thick brown clothes and a face mask.

 It was time to go to work.

 Roo strode toward a factory building, which was spewing endless black smoke out from a group of tall towering chimney pipes. She made her way to the double doors, which opened up in a cringe-worthy screeching sound.

 Roo took her place among other demons dressed in brown clothing, masks and gloves. In front of them was a conveyer belt and in the wall were large black pipes. A buzzer sounded and loads of trash fell through the holes and landed in a heap in front of the workers. The demons got busy, rummaging through the piles for items of value. There were boxes off to the right of each worker with different labels: precious metals, gems, weapons, recyclables, demon remains. The rest of the plastic and trash were pushed to the left into a slot where a lever would be pulled, sending it to the incinerator.

 “Come on, come on, you filthy sinning fetuses! Keep working!” called an employee with clapping claws. Adama. She was a tall woman with skin made of diamonds. She wore a long green skirt and a white top with her name tag and the company logo. Her coal-colored hair was pulled back into a tight bun. She was Hell Born, and loved treating sinners as the second class citizens they were. “You still have thirteen more hours to go! But don’t worry, your ten minute break will be in half that time.”

 Every hour, burly horned demon guards would patrol the area, some of them whipping the backs of the workers who slacked off. Roo herself got a few lashes when she found herself daydreaming. She tried not to cry out, for that would only elicit more whips and taunts. Her claws and hands were grimy and dirty, almost losing their usual whiteness.

 Between this job, prostitution and homelessness, Roo had chosen this laborious task in order to survive when she first manifested in Hell. Her hard work and a few lucky times allowed her to build her underground home and buy clothes, food and other necessities.

 Hour after hour Roo trudged and rummaged away. When her fellow employees weren’t looking, she opened her mouth, allowing the minion to peer through and slither out silently. It used its bladed legs and mouth to dig through big piles of trash. The creature opened its mouth to reveal several bullets. Roo grinned and placed them in the weapons box. She slurped the creature up before anyone noticed…though her boss shot her suspicious looks and narrowed eyes.

 “Unruly piece of scum,” Adama muttered, as she walked along, just loud enough for Roo to hear.

 The heat in Hell was unbearable enough, but having to stand near burning incinerators was almost torture. Sweat coated Roo’s forehead and under her arms…the heavy clothing wasn’t helping much. After several hours, the parasite pushed and kicked at her insides, begging to be let loose and to feed. She used her willpower to hold it down for as long as she could. She needed a smoke break, bad. After a brief lunch break of rotten meat and overcooked vegetables, the workers took their positions again.

 The boss wandered over to a small demon, who glanced at her nervously.

 “What have you got?”

 The demon pointed at the boxes with a shaking finger.

 “Hmm,” Adama said, observing the findings. “Only one piece of metal and a smelly old container? Those aren’t going to be worth selling in a blizzard. Give me more results at once.”

 “But…I’m tired,” the demon complained.

 The boss snickered and leaned in. “You’re tired? Is that right?”

 Adama mentioned to the other workers. “You hear him, he’s tired!” She spoke to him. “You were hired, you’re now tired. You know what comes next?”

 The demon gulped.

 The woman took out a coin. ”The answer: you will be fired! But how will that go, exactly?”

 She rubbed the coin in-between her fingers, everyone looking nervous.

 “Heads for you, tails for your home. Same goes for all.”

 One other worker had her home burned down after she tried to run away during her shift. The guards had caught her and brought her before Adama. The boss had flipped the coin to tails and she became homeless…resulting in working more hours.

 The coin flipped in the air, all eyes watching it. The coin landed in the boss’s clear palm. She grinned rows of glassy teeth.

 “Heads up!”

 Oh no.

 Two horned guards wearing gas masks over their faces picked up the demon by his arms, his screams and struggling doing him no good.

 Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic.

 A lever was pulled and a metal hatch opened up to a low shaft. A shaft of flames. A steep fall into a burning pit with nothing in the walls to hold onto.

 “No, no, no, stop!” the demon begged, as he was dragged forward. In swift motions, the yelling demon was thrown by the guards through the opening, his yelling growing fainter as he fell into the fiery pit. The hatch closed with a clang of finality.

 “Fuck,” Roo breathed, clutching at her stomach and head. She ignored the staring eyes around her.

 Roo’s heart appeared to stop (again). She hunched over, her body and arms shaking. The windowless room and heat appeared to suffocate her, the walls appeared to close in. The flashes burst into her head as she stared at the flames through another opening.

 Running like crazy from police footsteps. Maneuvering her way through a factory. The yells of her sister as officers closed in. Jumping onto a pile of trash to avoid being arrested. Her feet slipping on paper and junk, sliding down into a lower level. A man shoving her further away among the junk, for her dumping his girlfriend’s body. Her sister screaming her name as she struggled to free herself. The metal and scraps cutting into her skin as she struggled to free herself. Being pinned down by the crushing debris. Screaming for her family as she was moved mechanically into an incinerator and burned alive…

 “Is there a problem here, Miss Roo?”

 Roo jolted back up, and stared into the stone cold grey eyes of her boss.

 “N-n-no mam’,” she responded.

 “Let me see the boxes and your pouch.”

 Roo moved aside as the woman looked through the boxes.

 “Several bullets, containers with no toxic elements. Lots of steel scraps. Not too bad.”

 Roo pulled out the part of the gold necklace, some souls, an old box of cigarettes and several empty beer cans in reasonable condition.

 Adama scrutinized her findings, placing a finger to the smooth surface of her chin.

 “You got lucky this time,” she said, as she gathered the objects into a larger box. “These items will do at the market. But one of these days, you or your home will get burned to a crisp. Not that anyone else would care, seeing as you’re a dessert dwelling lowlife who got lucky.”

 “Bitch,” Roo seethed.

 “What was that?”

 “Nothing, mam’.”

 A growling sound rumbled in Roo’s throat. She could feel the slender body of the creature trying to climb out. She gripped her own throat, pushing it back down.

 The boss grit her teeth. “I’ve see you with your creature friend. Don’t even think about attacking me or anybody else with it. My skin can withstand sharp objects and teeth.” She took the half gold necklace and stuffed it into her shirt.

 Then she mentioned to everyone, “Remember, anyone who finds an angelic weapon will receive a double raise and a higher position. Count yourselves lucky that you don’t have to slave away in the mines…yet! Now get back to work.”

  Roo’s legs and back were throbbing and sore by the time she arrived back home. It had taken her months to create it. To imagine it being burned away…gut-wrenching. She’d have to start all over. Scratch that, it would be all over for her. Trash piles could only help hide her so much. She would be homeless and at the mercy of predatory demons. Single homeless demons were pretty much fresh meat. She wouldn’t let that happen…she couldn’t. But how much longer could she keep working, when her boss practically wanted her to fail?

 Roo climbed up the stairs and freely fell onto the dirty mattress. It was the one where she briefly had sex with another male demon, before using her minion to devour him. It had been a most wonderful night.

 She stripped herself of the sweaty uniform before putting it in a hamper to wash later. She went to the bathroom to take a shower, before putting on some looser, lighter clothing: a torn black ACDC t-shirt, ripped jeans, and a spiked collar around her neck. More chain necklaces were draped around her neck. On her couch, she casually played an Australian didgeridoo decorated red and black like a snake. Traditionally only men would play the didgeridoo in ceremonies but in Hell, she was free to do as she wished. Feeling a gnawing in her stomach, Roo placed the instrument down and raced outside through the exit door.

 She couldn’t lose her home. Not the place where she was free to be herself and alone. Sure, Roo had her minion with her if she became homeless, but if it were to be captured, it would eventually die. If her minion were to die…she knew that she would get very sick. Her minion did more than just kill other demons and dig through trash…it helped defend her and keep her alive. With Roo having a compromised immune system, the parasite healed her wounds and attacked any viruses that entered her body. In exchange, Roo provided the creature with her body, a portion of her energy and daily food. The creature would reluctantly remain still and let Roo’s food be digested…most of the time.

 In the past, Roo had tried keeping the creature in her pouch…but it didn’t like the dry, cluttered environment.

 And speaking of which…

 “Urgh! Stop it!” Roo seethed as the beast racked through her body and squirmed from within her gut. The beast’s thick fur and spikes prevented her gut bacteria from absorbing it. The creature began eating up the walls of her stomach, and some of the stomach bacteria. The long hours of work and the hunger of the beast were coming back with a vengeance.

 She doubled down on her knees, nearly throwing up. The beast was hungry and wanted out. Having no choice, Roo opened her mouth wide, spewing out the creature in streams of dark spit and blood. The orange slick body grew white spider-like legs and the rough black clawed appendages with the eyes blinking in them. With shrieks and a clanking of its legs, the monster scurried off and attacked several demons nearby.

 The monster came back around ten minutes later, satisfied and coated in blood. Roo opened her mouth and the creature dashed inside before disappearing down her throat.

 Roo arrived home and began to play her didgeridoo again on the couch, this time playing an Australian Aboriginal tune she had learned when she was alive. She was amazed that she could still remember the song, let alone her past life.

 Arranged on a shelf in the kitchen were bottles of different herbs she used for cooking, healing, and make-up. Roo walked over and ground up several green leaves after removing them from the shelf, making a tea. The warm finished liquid was soothing for her stomach. Tucked in a shadow corner of a shelf were bottles with poison ivy, wormwood, and other deadly herbs to use on enemies. Lacing demon’s drinks with poisonous substances was a favorite pastime. There were even some fan shaped marijuana leaves in a jar that she occasionally used when smoking.

 Many outsiders, both on Earth and in Hell only saw Roo as a trash picker and vicious killer. But many did not know that Roo had other hobbies: singing, dancing, playing Australian instruments and working with herbs. She also enjoyed alternative fashion and art. Although Roo was somewhat clumsy in her dancing and screechy in her singing, she still enjoyed them very much. After taking several sips of her tea, Roo played a nearby guitar as she sang:

 “The downtrodden at the mercy of their fates

Burning in inferno, alone with no mates

Surrounded by rubbish, stuck in a bin

Living a life of sin, but no way to win”

 “What determines our new lives from the start?

Who would’ve thought my behavior could drift others apart?

I can feel my afterlife slowly burning away

Yeah there’s no other way, but to pray and stay”

 Roo, oh Roo

Whatever must you do

To keep your belly full and your mind intact

What to do, Roo, it’s all up to you

You’re stuck here forever, that’s just a fact”

  Roo had learned a quick lesson once she arrived in Hell: in order to survive, demons would have to know how to kill and use weapons…plus know how to sing, dance and/or play music. One had to be good at self-defense while also finding a way to get their points across, a.k.a. singing. Slaughtering and entertainment were the two essential things that would get demons further along in Hell. One had to be good at both. One could look at such examples as jazz loving Alastor, Angel Dust, Cherri Bomb, the ever musical Charlie and her parents to see how important these skills were.

 Perhaps the reason why the majority of demons killed, sang and danced were due to Lucifer himself. He enjoyed polka music and his family were also experts in the creative arts. Music and song, along with fashionable dress were excellent ways to both pass the time and to display a higher status. The two songs and dances that Charlie performed, along with the Alastor one, were just the beginning.

    A rumbling sound was soon heard from overhead. There were sounds of scurrying and the sounds of metal and plastic being scrapped around from outside.

 “Who the hell decided to visit me?” Roo thought, her claws extending into sharp black points.

 From the footsteps coming from many directions, it appeared to be more than one person.

 Blast. It was probably her boss and her cronies arriving to punish her. Could she never catch a break?

 Roo stepped outside and squinted into the sudden red light. She couldn’t believe her eyes.

 What she saw wasn’t her boss, but rather…round moving eggs? They were dressed in small pinstriped suits around their lower halves along with mini black top hats on their heads. The eggs had eyes and large mouths with jazzed edges that served as teeth. They moved on small legs and had small arms. Roo punched one of the eggs and it exploded in a yok mess around her.

 “Yuck,” she muttered.

 The Egg Bois were currently digging through the trash piles nearby, and carrying scraps of metal with them!

 “Hey! That stuff is not your own! The fuck are you doing on my turf?”

 She heard laughter from nearby. There was Sir Pentious himself holding a gun with a green electricity inside it. He was flanked by a dozen Egg Bois holding stun guns.

 The Industrial Revolution snake turned and looked at her, his fangs bared in a sinister smile.

 “Well, well, well, look what the rat dragged in today! What’re you doing in this filth, worm?”

 “FYI, I live here, bastard. Why are you so keen to barge into my turf?”

 Sir Pentious made a face and scoffed. “You call this your turf? I’ve seen homeless scum have more class than you. And to answer your question, I’m in need of some more metal and parts to repair my blimp. The one that cursed Alastor managed to destroy.”

 Alastor…she had heard his name before. Thankfully, she had never encountered the infamous Radio Demon.

 “You’re an inventor right?”

 “Why yes I am,” Sir Pentious replied, puffing his chest. “Only the greatest of my time! What’s it to you?”

 “Can’t you just gather parts somewhere else?”

 “I could, but I’m in a bit of a hurry, and a bad mood after what happened earlier,” he seethed, revealing a chipped fang and a swollen eye.

 “Ouch,” Roo remarked.

Sir Pentious hissed. “You mock me while living in this dump? What a filthy whore you are.”

 “The fuck did you just call me?”

 “Would you like me to say it again, in case you didn’t hear me?”

 “Boss,” said Egg #22. “I think the trash lady heard you just fine!”

 “Never you mind,” he spat, giving his minion a glare.

 “No need. You’ll be saying nothing after…this!” Roo declared, her mouth opening wide.

 “Bring it, missy!” Sir Pentious hissed, turning to his minions. “Get her!”

 The eggs scrambled towards her on their little feet and legs. Roo took hold of a nearby pipe and swiped several times at the eggs. The Egg Bois were sent flying into the air forwards before rolling on the ground as they fell. One egg trued to bite her leg but she kicked it away with a powerful roundhouse. Her fists shot through several more eggs before white and yellow egg yok splattered all over her face and clothes. Roo’s long tongue licked off the goop with a slurp.

 “You know, I’d much prefer meat. And I’d be more than willing to try snake!”

 One egg watched as he waved a flag in his hand that read “Boss’s #1 fan.” Roo’s parasite helped with attacking the eggs and keeping them at bay. Several eggs were lifting up a shiny piece of metal and scurrying toward their boss.

 “Oh no you don’t!” She whirled around and threw a rock in their direction. The stone clanged against the metal, causing the eggs to fumble with the piece. The Eggs and metal were sent flying with one swipe of Roo’s powerful tail. One egg managed to bite down into her tail and another fired a blast that impacted her foot.

 “Damn it!” she cursed, swishing her tail around to get the egg off. A jet of green energy narrowly missed her as it created a smoking hole in a trash pile next to her head.

 “Come out and face me, missy,” Sir Pentious called. “Or are you just gonna scurry back into your hole?”

 Another blast shook the ground, causing Roo to almost lose her balance. In fury, she raced out and attacked other eggs around her. The turf war went on for what seemed like hours. More and more eggs kept arriving and Roo was already starting to get worn out. Even her parasite was having trouble killing so many eggs at once. Sir Pentious shot a blast at the orange creature and it shrieked in pain, releasing the captured Egg Bois.

 “Not so tough now, huh?” he grinned, tongue flickering out as he advanced.

 “No, no, no, no,” she thought in frustration as she saw several more eggs carry off metal and tools back to the remains of Sir Pentious’ ship. They threw the scraps into a large cart before wheeling it away. Roo punched more Egg Bois and scurried behind more trash piles to avoid blasts from the Egg Bois’ guns and Sir Pentious’ blasts. Roo jumped high into the air to avoid a larger blast from Sir Pentious’ gun. The trash pile she had been taking cover behind, exploded in a flash of green smoke. One of the Egg Bois shot a claw from another gun. Roo managed to avoid several of the traps in midair before a third cable made her trip. She fell to the ground and rolled over as the Egg Bois closed in. Her arms were suddenly held back by more clawed cables. She struggled to free herself before a brief shock of electricity made her flinch back. Nearby, her parasite was also trapped in the black cables.

 The serpent villain slithered over to her, yellow eyes glowing, fangs showing against his menacing shadow figure. Fear was evident in her eyes as Sir Pentious aimed his blaster at her not too far away. There was no way he could miss now.

 “Any last wordssss?” he grinned.

 Roo lowered her head before opening her mouth. “Edgelord!” was spoken.

 “What did you just say to me?!”

 “I didn’t say anything…”

 Just then, a familiar slender cyclops woman did a graceful leap over the barbed wire fence, landing gracefully on the ground between Roo and Sir Pentious.

 “Still looking to fight, old man?” she asked. She threw a pink bomb in his face, pink smoke spreading in the air. Sir Pentious coughed through the smoke and waved his hand to clear it away. The woman kicked the eggs away and the cables fell away from her hands, freeing her.

 “Thought you could use some help,” she said.

 Roo didn’t have the chance to reply before the smoke cleared.

 “You again!” Sir Pentious yelled. ‘You really don’t know when to give up, do you?”

 “Giving up’s not in my vocabulary. I must ask, is being a lord of shit in yours?”

“Arugh!” he growled in anger. “Both of you are dead!”

 “I know,” Cherri smirked. “How about we find out if you can die again!”

 “I’m better than you at words and lifestyle. I’m quite the epic dabber!” Sir Pentious exclaimed before his Egg Bois collectively groaned in response.

 “Man, ego inflation much?” Roo shook her head.

 Cherri summoned more bombs in her hands, tossing them at oncoming Egg Bois. Roo and Cherri exchanged smiles and knowing looks. It was time to heat things up.

 Roo jumped and bounced in the air like a kangaroo over toward her minion. A few swipes of her claws snapped the cables in half, freeing her parasite. The creature roared aloud before scurrying on its metal legs in the path of several Egg Bois. The blades and tendrils contacted with the eggs, slicing them, squishing them or biting them.

 “I like my eggs scrambled!” Cherri exclaimed as she beat an egg to death with a nailed filled club in her hands. “Seriously, does Sir Pentious shit you guys out or does he have a chick for that? No matter, I’ll juts poach more of you eggs!”

 “I could do for some fried eggs myself,” Roo grinned as she barreled into more eggs and stomped several into the ground. The good news was that no more eggs were stealing any more metal and useful junk.

 “Ha! I haven’t seen this many dying eggs since that sperm bank got robbed!” Cherri danced around the Egg Bois trying to shoot her. “You really think you can take me with your pea-cock shooters? Get it?”

 “Hey,” Roo called to Cherri. “Thanks for the backup!”

 “Don’t mention it,” she replied. “That Edgelord manic has been invading my territory for a while now. He almost got it as well. But even if he does…I’ll make sure he doesn’t get yours.”

 “You don’t know me,”Roo inquired. “Why stop to help anyway?”

 “I figured, why not? Angel Dust helped me out during the last one. Figured I could pass the time and shit.”

 “What do you do for hobbies?” Roo asked.

 “Blow stuff up, obviously,” Cherri answered. “Plus go shopping with Angel Dust, maybe go for a drink. You?”

 “I work with herbs of all kinds. I sing, play music, murder, feast, you name it.”

 “Sounds pretty rad. I’m Cherri Bomb by the way.”

 “Roo,” Roo smiled.

 The parasite lunged at Sir Pentious, but the snake managed to avoid it, sending it away as it avoided more blasts.

 “Ready to finish this?” Roo asked.

 “You bet!” Cherri responded.

 Cherri Bomb and Roo both charged at Sir Pentious, all three of them (plus the creature) yelling at the top of their lungs.

 Roo and the parasite attacked more Egg Bois at a rapid pace, sending them into a retreat. They scurried over to the last cart before driving it away. Sir Pentious was fuming in anger.

 “Don’t get confident, whores. You may have sent us back, but I still got enough parts to do the job. You won’t be so lucky next time!”

 Sir Pentious took one look at Roo and his eyes glowed and spiraled. Roo was so entranced that she didn’t notice the hiss, snap and strike until it was too late. Yellow fangs sank into her neck and Roo cried out with wide eyes. Cherri gasped in concern, throwing several bombs at Sir Pentious. Sir Pentious laughed again as he fled the scene yelling, “Bye, bye bitches!”

 Roo felt her body go numb. Spots danced before her eyes as dizziness took hold. Cherri Bomb held her in her arms, Roo collapsing to the floor, her body suddenly heavy.

 “Oh Isabella!” Roo smiled deliriously.

 “That���s not my name,” Cherri said, taken aback.

 “Roo!” Cherri called in concern as Roo gasped for breath. Roo weakly smiled at Cherri’s beautiful face. She never imagined that a single large eye could hold so many secrets. She had saved her life…a true angel hidden in disguise. Thank Lucifer Roo had left the door unlocked.

 She saw Cherri’s concerned face for a few more seconds before unconsciousness took her.

    Chapter Three: Down In The Dumps

 Roo groggily opened her eyes and found herself staring at the rocky ceiling of her bedroom. Nothing seemed to be out of place. Nothing save for a tall white skinned cyclops casually catching a pink bomb in one of her hands. There was a concerned look on her face.

 “Would ya mind not blowing up me or my house, mate?” she asked, slowly sitting up.

 Cherri’s look of concern vanished, turning into relief. “Oh thank goodness.”

 “What the fuck happened?” Roo muttered. She almost climbed out of bed.

 “Whoa take it easy,” Cherri said, holding out her hands, the previous bomb vanishing. “The venom may have left your system but I don’t think you’re ready to rush out just yet.”

 “How did you…”

 “Thankfully your door was unlocked. I saw you pointing a shaking finger at it between consciousness.”

 She held up an empty jar and a note scrawled on a piece of paper. The paper had directions for crushing a herb to counteract the effects of venom.  

 Roo blinked in disbelief.

 “Yep, your note saved your ass.”

 Roo smiled, staring at her hands, memories rushing back to her. “Wow that was some fight we had!”

 “I know, wasn’t it awesome?! That Edgelord snake thought he could take us down, but he miscalculated as usual.

 “He still managed to knack some of my stuff,” Roo grumbled.

 “It’s no big deal. More trash will arrive here anyway, right?”

 “Good point.”

 Roo slowly stood up, stretching her arms.

 “You good?” Cherri asked. Roo nodded and followed her out to the living room. Roo noticed that she felt…empty.

 “Have you seen…”

 “Oh, that creature of yours?” Cherri asked. She mentioned off to the left of her.

 A banging and clanging sound filled the small kitchen. The parasite was scurrying along the countertops, knocking several items down in search for food.

 “Yeah, that freaky beast tried to enter inside of you…I think the venom may have discouraged it to go any further. I tried to pull it away…”

 The creature suddenly roared when it spotted them and shot itself at Cherri’s face. Cherri screamed, stepping back and flinching. Roo sunk her clawed fingers into the creature, pulling it back with her hands.

 “Hey! Stop that!”

 The creature shrieked in protest.

 “What the fuck is that thing?!” Cherri exclaimed, terrified at have it so close to her.

 “I don’t actually know myself,” Roo admitted. “But I do know that it can get very tempermental if left outside too long with no food.”

 “Then leave it in here for a while,” she suggested.

 “That’s not what I…enough!”

 Roo’s eyes glowed and she spoke in a low demonic voice. The creature shot up its spikes and curled its head in terror. Roo pulled it away from Cherri.

 “Jeez, that was close,” Cherri mentioned. “Now please put that thing back where it came from!”

 Roo nodded and picked up the creature. Her mouth opened wide and she helped slide the creature inside.

 “No, what the fu…oh god!” Cherri made a face at the disgusting display. She closed her one eye until the creature had vanished down her throat.

 Roo looked apologetic. “Sorry about that.”

 Cherri shook her hands and took a breath. “Well, I’ve seen worse sights in my life, so something like this is nothing.”

 Cherri stood up and walked toward the exit door.

 “Where are you going?” Roo asked.

 “I have to get back and check on my bestie Angel Dust,” Cherri explained.

 “Can I come too?”

 “Well, I’d rather not let anyone else see my territory and do know I can still blow you to bits if you try anything.”

 Roo shrugged, looking unfazed. “Even if I did, I would only have my life to lose.”

 “Fair enough.”

 “How about this? Thanks for saving me back there, Cherri. You’re welcome to come back here anytime. I have herbs, some instruments if you like to play sometime.”

 A small smile appeared on Cherri’s face. “Nah I’m good but thanks for the offer.”

 Cherri was about to walk out the door but stopped and stared at the display of boomerangs in the hall. It seemed to trigger some lost memories.

 “Where did you get these?” she breathed. She glanced down and picked up a long tube shaped instrument.

 “Where else but in Australia?” Roo replied with a grin.

 “You mean that’s where you were from?”

 Roo nodded.

 “Same here.”

 Both their eyes grew wide in surprise.

 “Wait, you’re an Aussie too?” Roo asked in disbelief.

 “It’s true though,” Cherri replied. “I remember my last days being in the good old 80s.”

 “I never would’ve guessed. You have no accent!”

 “Not everything is what it seems at first glance.”

 Roo could sense explosive power brewing in this woman. This confident fiery individual who so happened to be a former human from Australia just like she was. Was it coincidental that she was having these strange feelings? The desire to learn more about her was swaying through her mind like tall grass on a windy day.  

[eimagines]

old friend // jimmy darling

pairing: jimmy darling x reader genre: fluffy and smutty! summary: your family visit the freakshow to greet some old friends. jimmy and you can’t keep your eyes or your hands off of each other. warnings: spicy stuff, you already know. unprotected car bonnet sex lol x word count: 3800

a/n: prompt ‘the skirt is supposed to be this short’ requested by  @gooberthemanatee ! hope you like it lovely, apologies for how long this took and my disappearance! this one is for you! also, I am working through all requests at the moment!

“Remember to be on our best behaviour today everybody,” Elsa announced over breakfast as she delicately wiped away food from off of peppers chin, “An old friend is coming to visit and I would very much appreciate making her and her children’s stay with us as pleasant as possible.” 

“Who’s this old friend?” Bette asked quietly to Jimmy who sat facing her and Dot on one of the wooden breakfast benches.

“An old-timer,” Jimmy explained as he bit into an apple, “Her and her kids used to tour with the show back in the 30’s.”

“She was an absolute star, used t’ bring in hundreds in ‘er prime. It’s a real shame she’s taken ill.” Ethel spoke.

“A shame it is indeed, and we should feel privileged her one wish was to visit her old family.” Elsa finished.

“Why did she leave the show?” Dot asked, suspiciousness in her tone.

“Her eldest son went to college, got himself a great job and bought the family a home. And a giant home in the city is better than this dump, so they moved.” Jimmy explained glumly.

“Now don’t ya be ac’in’ all glum Jimmy. We ain’t got no bitterness towards ‘em. They the loyalist bunch we known. Never been a birthday or holiday we ain’t got a card off ‘em. Those kids always kept in touch on behalf of their mother, even when she got sick, precious [Y/N] must always ‘ave ‘er hands full without always writin’ to our lot.” Ethel scolded.

“Why couldn’t she ever write herself?” Dot asked.

“Well my dear, you see, some freaks are born with missing limbs, some, too many and some, like our old friend, aren’t born with any whatsoever,” Elsa explained.

Bette looked concerned. 

“She’s not been in the best of health for years,” Jimmy explained upon seeing Bette’s concerned look, quieting his voice as not to cause any upset, “I think she’s on her way out. She’s been wanting to come back for years but never had a good enough excuse to do the journey.”

Almost as if on cue, a rickety old 1948 sky blue Austin 8 came clanging down the dirt road and into the front entrance of the freak show, it’s wheels coated in dust and it’s paint job chipped and slightly rusted. As soon as the wheels came to a holt the back two doors came flying open and two young boys - one no older than eleven, the other fifteen - charged out onto the dusty path with sticks in hand as they chased each other wildly. Pepper stood quickly, ready for playtime. 

“Boys! Come here, if you’re gunna run wild and not help at least put sunscreen on. I’m not nursing you if you burn!” You called after them as you stepped out into the hot Florida air. 

“Darling! Look at how much you have grown!” Elsa called as she hurried over to you, enveloping you into a big hug, “The boys too. Come come now I’ll help fetch your mother.” 

The opposite car door was opened next and the specific old friend in question helped into a shabby old wheelchair. She was frail, weak, hard to hear as she spoke with a grave voice, but gave lots of love to her reunited friends as much as she could. Elsa helped with getting your mother out of the scorching sun, making your day seem a little less hard; Elsa looked as though she had appointed herself as the nurse for the day much to your relief. You had looked after your mother ever since you could remember, and cared for your younger brothers the best you could too. You almost never had a moment for yourself. To come back to the place you had grown up, be showered with love and given time to do what you wanted was a holiday you had prayed for.

The boys were occupied playing with Pepper as both familiar and new faces greeted and welcomed you. You had been born into the freak show, grew up around it. You hadn’t been back for ten years but somehow felt as though you’d been gone merely a week. You felt at home here. As much as you were thankful your elder brother had gotten you out of performing circus acts for a living and sleeping in a cramped little camper every day until you were 16, you’d missed the atmosphere of show life. You’d missed the laughs, the parties, hell, you’d even missed the fights and the hecklers. But honestly, you’d missed a certain Jimmy Darling more than any of that.

You could recognise his charming smile from miles away. His cocky stance, his slight smirk and his ashy blonde hair that shaped his face so perfectly. He’d bulked up since his teenage years, his build bigger and stronger looking. You caught his eye, standing at the back of the greeting crowd of people, his hands tucked away in his pockets shyly. 

You approached him, thankfully, as Jimmy had worried you wouldn’t even remember him, too embarrassed by the thought he’d talked himself out of greeting you first. 

“Jimmy, Darling,” you spoke his name fondly, the way his name rolled off your tongue spreading the feel of nostalgia coursing throughout your body. “What kind of half-assed welcome was that?” You laughed, as did he.

“Still got a mouth on you I see.” He smiles fondly, remembering how much trouble you’d get in for having absolutely no filter. Not to be expected of a “lady”. “I didn’t think you would remember me.”

“How could I forget my Jimmy?” You smirked. “I mean you sure have changed, but not that much.”

“Ahh yeah,” Jimmy held up his hands on display, “Still got these fellas, you saw them right?”

“No you dingbat, I’d recognise that smile of yours anywhere.” You giggled giving him a giant hug which he returned tightly with a laugh.

“We’re having a big dinner tonight to welcome you all back so wear something nice!” Elsa shouted as she scuttled into her tent.

“You guys gonna be okay stayin’ in this old thing?” Jimmy asked as you finished tying the last lace on your brother's shoes, sending him bouncing up and out of the open camping van door. 

The old camping van you used to live in still sat old and rusted, collecting dust and homing spiders. It didn't look all that different from when you left. Everyone had tried their best to sweep and clean it up before you’d arrived, yet the heaters were broken and the sides of the van were worn down and gritty; you prayed that tonight wouldn't be too cold and harsh for you all.

“Course we will,” You responded confidently, “As long as the spiders stay at a regular distance away from me, I think we’ll be good to go.” You smiled. Jimmy, as gentlemanly as ever, had helped you carry your bags back home and even stayed help you with the boys.

“Y’know you don’t have to stay and help me with everything Jimmy, although I do appreciate your company,” You said with a smile as you got up from your seating position on the weathering couches in the rear end of the van and popped on the stove to brew some coffee.

“Yeah, well, what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t,” Jimmy asked, getting two mugs down from the shelf above your head causing him to lean into the back of you slightly. You felt your face heat up at the closeness of him behind you.

He washed out the mugs and set them down as you poured them full off coffee, the strong aroma filling the air quickly and masking the musky smell of dust that seemed to have seeped into every crevis of the place. 

You sat facing Jimmy, chatting about where you had both been, what you had been up to. You couldn’t help but eye Jimmy up as he laughed with you. The way his cheeks lifted up so high when he smiled that his eyes crinkled and deep dimples showed.

“Does the Ferris Wheel still work?” You asked with a laugh, trying to distract yourself from drooling over your old friend.

Jimmy was thankful you’d brought up the wheel, he was wondering if his oogling of you was becoming noticeable. He couldn’t help being increasingly interested in you. He always had been, but seeing how strong of a woman you had become, how beautiful and confident you were, had sent his mind into overdrive. He noticed the way you shyly looked away when he made you laugh, the way your hair fell over your glowing skin and your smile seemed to light up the dark room you both sat in. He felt overly infatuated with you already.

“Barely, it’s still as rickety as it always has been.” Jimmy laughed along with you, a thought entering his head as he sipped at his hot coffee, “Remember that old car? The yellow convertible one we used to take out at night when we thought everyone was sleeping?”

“Oh my god!” You laughed upon realisation of your earlier teenage memories, “We used to steal the keys from Elsa and drive into town! And then one night we got super drunk and it rained and we left the roof down and Elsa had a breakdown cause her leather seats got wet!”

“We still have it y’know? It's not been runnin’ for a while, far too old for it now I think, but it's parked up past the Lake. After dinner, we could walk up to there if you want?” Jimmy offered.

You’d never said yes to a plan so fast in your life.

You’d been slightly embarrassed to leave the van for dinner that evening. You’d not brought a huge array of clothing for the trip, but you had brought along your favourite pencil skirt and blouse. 

The pencil skirt accented your womanly figure, a glorious blend of both practicality and glamour. The bold red colour matched your soft white feminine blouse perfectly. The hemline normally skated just below your knees, but now hugged your body tighter than usual, the hemline resting on your thighs. 

You’d thought about switching your skirt out for the pleated one you wore earlier, but Elsa’s instance on dressing nicely replayed in your head, and you didn't want to underdress and possibly offend.

You’d walked with the boys towards the main tent, food freshly prepared and filling your stomach with growls. No-one had really paid attention to your slight wardrobe malfunction; no-one but Jimmy.

As you sat and chatted to the new members of the Freakshow, sharing old stories and new, you watched him up as he stood leaning against one of the heavy wooden pillars. Jimmy had become a proud man, a man that you simply couldn’t take your eyes off. You noticed the way in which his redshirt hugged his broad shoulders and his dark eyes glanced over in your direction every once in a while. If you caught him staring he wouldn't look away; his confident glare both bold and endearing.

Once the boys were fed and easily distracted amongst all of the interesting people they had not been acquainted with and the hundreds of activities Salt and Pepper bestowed upon them, you snuck off behind the layers of curtains that separated the back of the stage to the front. Music and laughter got quieter and more drawn out as you carefully tip-toed amongst the darkness.

Everything was laid out exactly like you remembered it; the assortment of props, costumes, missing lighting rig pieces, ropes and chairs. You fumbled with a set of Jimmy’s juggling balls, remembering fondly how he’d nervously shake before going on stage, how he’d whisper his lines to himself under his breath, how his eyes shone under the bright lights of the red and white tent.

“You lookin’ for something?” Jimmy’s voice seemed to appear out of nowhere, startling you as your fingers grip on the balls diminished and they bounced onto the cold floor below. “Sorry princess didn't mean to scare you,” Jimmy said with a laugh.

“I almost forgot what this place looked like,” you said fondly as you bent down to pick the props up off of the floor, the dusty air filling your lungs and pink tones rising to the apples of your cheeks, forever flustered by Jimmy’s name calling. “How long is the walk to the car?” 

“Not far at all,” Jimmy said, holding his arm out for you to take, “If you get tired I can always carry you there.” He said with a wink. 

You gave him a playful smack as you laughed, taking his arm in yours, “Forever the flirt arent you, Jimmy?”

“I try darlin’.” He smiled down at you fondly. 

“You look beautiful by the way.” Jimmy said, the heat from your cheeks brightening up your face, “Never seen a skirt so short in Jupiter before, and I mean that in a good way. You look great.”

“Thank you, Jimmy.” You smiled, maybe the skirt had shrunken for good reason. If Jimmy liked it, then so did you, and you’d wear it confidently, “Trying something new. The skirt is supposed to be this short.” If you spoke it into existence then you’d feel better about the machine back home having shrunken it.

The night air was cool, a slight breeze delicately blowing at your hair, the flags that lined the Freakshow waving back and forth. The stars were beginning to dot the dark night sky and the moon was full and round. You and Jimmy walked silently for a while, both of you not really knowing what to say but embracing the company of one another. The only sounds were the slight ripples of the lake's water lapping at its banks, the faded out music of the Freakshow and the crunch of dried grass as you both walked across the grounds.

The rusted bonnet of a yellow car brought you to a holt as you excitedly ran forward.

“Oh my god!” You laughed childishly, immediately grazing your fingers over the exterior of the car. The paint was chipped and rusted, the leather seats worn and outdated, the glass screen dusty and covered with a few fallen leaves.

“Told ya it was still here.” Jimmy laughed, his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the bonnet, “It knocked out when we got here. Shame we couldn’t get it runnin’ again.”

“This is so cool, I didn’t think I’d ever see this again.” Your eyes flickered to Jimmy, his skin catching the light of the moon making him look as though he was glowing. Jimmy was staring at you too, wondering how a little moonlight could make someone look like an angel.

“I’ve missed it here.” You say fondly as you join Jimmy at the front of the car, looking over the Lake to the red and white tents, the fluorescent lights of the entrance making the place glow in warm hues.

Jimmy sighed, following your eyeline to the Freakshow, “You deserved better than this place.” 

You gave him a confused look, “I’m grateful for the life I have, don’t get me wrong, but not a day goes by when I don’t think of this place, these people. I miss you all.”

“A place like this isn’t a place for a woman like you, [Y/N],” Jimmy started, “You don’t wanna be my mama’s age and still livin’ this life. You had a chance to escape and you took it, and I’m glad you did.”

“You talk like you don’t have a chance to do the same.” 

“Not with my flippers I don’t.” Jimmy spoke glumly.

“Oh Jimmy,” You sighed placing your hand on his own, knowing of his anxieties but never fully being able to understand his struggles, “This world will be kinder one day, more accepting. There will always be people willing to bring you down to bring themselves up, you just gotta know in your heart you’re the better person. Not everyone is so cruel out there, so you can stop talkin’ like I’m above this place cause I don’t look like any of you. We are all people. All equal. The world will realise it soon enough.”

Jimmy listened to the words passionately pour out your mouth, “Plus, how can anyone resist a man as handsome as my Jimmy Darling.” You both laughed fondly and you playfully shoved him. The way in which your hand had rested on his own and the way you called him ‘yours’ made Jimmy’s heart beat a little faster than before.

You watched the way his lips opened slightly like words were on the tip of his tongue but he couldn't get them out, his dark eyes drank you in against the moonlight, the way his curls fell in front of his face. The air felt a lot hotter now.

He watched the way your smile graced your face, the way your skirt hugged your waist and exposed your thighs as you leaned against the car. Jimmy couldn’t help his embrace of you. He took your chin in his hand, your eyes meeting his.

“Jimmy,” You barely managed to whisper out his name as his lips met yours with a surprise. His lips were delicate and soft on your own, it was sweet and passionate, not rushed or desperate. Your body relaxed into the kiss as your hands came up to cup his face, your lips moving against his own as his hands wrapped protectively around your waist. 

You both smiled into the kiss, breaking away from each other for a moment, your foreheads pressed to one another, Jimmy’s arms still wrapped around you tightly.

“I’ve waited so long to do that.” Jimmy smiled down at you, scanning your face with a look of pure adoration causing fireworks to go off in your chest.

“You should have done it sooner.” You replied, kissing him again with a laugh, awkward teenage memories floating back through both your heads, neither of you confident enough to act on your feelings back then. 

You were still leaning against the car bonnet, now making out deeply like you’d wished you had done years before. Jimmy had you trapped between the car and his body, kissing his way from your neck to your collar bones. You let out little breathy moans as his lips sucked against the tender parts of your skin, his hands teasingly grazing across your exposed legs.

Every so often he would look at you and check you were okay. He kissed your lips, sucking slightly at your lower lip earning him another moan that slipped from your mouth.

“Careful, you want everyone to hear?” He smirked as he moved to grab at your behind, lifting you slightly so you sat on the bonnet of the car your legs at either side of his waist as he continued peppering sweet kisses on your revealed skin. 

“You have no idea how crazy you make me darlin’, when I saw you in this tiny skirt I felt like I couldn’t breathe,” Jimmy confessed. You could feel his growing anticipating rubbing against your clothed heat. You could feel yourself becoming more and more excited, your heart was pounding out your chest and your legs began shaking in anticipation.

Jimmy slowly moved his hand up your thigh, rubbing his fingers delicately over your clothed wet pussy. “Please don't tease me, Jimmy.” You said, lust clouding your eyes as you practically begged for more friction between the two of you. 

“I’ll do anything you ask baby.” Jimmy giggled at your impatience, lowering himself between your thighs as you lay back, letting the bonnet of the yellow car take your whole weight. 

Jimmy could barely contain his excitement at finally getting to stick his head between your legs, he eyed up your lacey underwear, using both hands to delicately pull them from you. 

He was an experienced man who knew his way around a woman’s body, and whether the women of Jupiter wanted to admit it or not, Jimmy was a catch in bed. You looked down at him, peppering your thighs in kisses, yanking your skirt up higher so you could watch him as he began to eat you out.

He licked at your clit and you immediately let out a moan. He used his tongue expertly on you, going slow, then quickening his pace, flattening his tongue and sucking delicately on your most sensitive area. Your hands found their way into Jimmy’s curled locks. His dark eyes drank in the sight of you, breathing heavy, eyes shut in bliss all at his doing. 

He teased your wet entrance with his long fingers, pushing them in a little and then removing them all too quickly. He knew just how to build the pace but you were becoming impatient. You wanted him, all of him, and he could tell.

He stood straight from his position, grabbing at your thighs and pulling your body closer towards him, his clothed cock rubbing at his jeans. He leaned forward helping him fumble with his belt. He gave you another kiss, this time the desperation written on his face, letting his jeans and boxers drop to the floor.

It wasn’t long before he’d delved his large member into you, the moans that fell from both your mouths loud at the feeling of your tight walls wrapped around his cock. His hips moved slowly but deeply against your own, the feel of his throbbing cock pulling out you and slipping back in sent your mind into overdrive. 

Jimmy soon picked up the pace, somewhat desperate for his own pleasure to be fulfilled. He moaned your name, the sounds of profanities spilling from his lips and the skin slapping against skin drowning out any of the other noise the surrounding nature could conjure. One hand held Jimmy’s shoulder whilst the other you used to stimulate yourself, his cock driving in and out of you deeply, both of you sweating, chasing the familiar euphoric feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Jimmy moaned, watching as you took your bottom lip in your teeth, eyes heavy and dark as you watched him fuck you, “You look so hot.” 

Your breathy moans become louder, your hand desperately moving against your clit as Jimmy continued to fuck you into the bonnet, “I’m so close.”

Jimmy took this as an opportunity to rip the buttons off the front of your shirt, latching his mouth onto your exposed nipple, grabbing your thighs and fucking you as hard as he could. The cool metal of the car rubbing against your backside harshly as the tight coil in the pit of your stomach released and you came all over his cock. 

The feeling of your walls convulsing against him, the wetness dripping all over his cock, the sounds of his name falling from your mouth, the sight of you coming undone beneath him sent Jimmy into his own orgasm. He groaned, moaning out your name, his thumbs digging into your hips as he came inside you. He collapsed on top of you, both of you a sweaty heavy breathing mess.

You started to laugh.

“What?” Jimmy asked breathlessly, a smile so big on his face his dimples looked like craters, “What are you laughing at?”

“I can’t believe we just had sex on Elsa’s car.”

Jimmy laughed along with you. 

“We can try doing it somewhere else next time then.” Jimmy gave you a cocky smirk, his eyebrow cocked as he slipping his jeans back on and helped you off the bonnet.

“You wish.” You replied playfully.

“I certainly do.”

A/N: Decided to lay the whole skirt thing out in a way that made sense for the time-period as short skirts weren't a fashionable choice until the mid 60′s if my research is correct! 

[qhostqizmo]

“She is a beautiful woman.”

“Alarmingly, her heart is somehow even more beautiful then she is. You can see it when she smiles, that rare and reclusive charm of someone far wiser then the world is old. It takes my breath away. Through the window of her eyes alone, I’ve seen a compassionate soul of intelligence and kindness veiled beneath those dark lashes she tries to use to hide behind her mesmerizing golden eyes. It’s difficult to avoid peeking into them. I can’t explain what I see, but it fills me with hope, and a warmth I’ve never known.”

- - - - - - - - - - -

Her nobleman had only been gone a few minutes, but it already felt like an eternity. All she could envision every time her eyelids closed was the appalling images from events past. The cave in Beggar’s Hollow. The ferry ride across the lake towards the capital. Visions from other struggles come and gone and some not even real; merely illusions conjured out of fear.

Any of them gone too long from her sight twisted Essätha’s stomach. She worried for them all; her kindred allies in their mission to take down a cult and remove its head, but if one were to pick at her long enough, she would eventually relent, she grew most anxious when he wasn’t around at all. It was impossible to forget Amon’s tormented, lonely, stricken gaze or the pale-washed complexion of the man nearly dying in her arms, staining her clothes crimson.

A shudder involuntarily ran down her spine. The sorceress’ kept her eyes open until they burned, trying not to think on the dreadful, awful day. How helpless she felt, wanting to cradle him protectively in her arms and hold him; wrap him tight in his blankets and promise him it would be alright, and be able to keep that vow most of all.

Before the Yuan-Ti, the door was pulled open by a housemaid with a gracious dip of her head. A rather stout older man with a fiery beard and hair looked towards them as they entered; tearing his eyes from the housekeeper he was already speaking with. His eyes moved over them all; darting from one member of The Hand of Jubata to the next with a steadily growing smile and twinkle in his tawny eyes. It distracted Essie for the time being, to see someone so immediately enthused to see them.

“My word! Yes yes, come in, please, welcome!”

Ushering eagerly with his hands, the man encouraged them to step within the large room. A quick flicker of her gaze around, and Essätha realized this must be some sort of work space. There were bookshelves, and shelves with figurines. A war-table with models and banners was surrounded by two sofas and a single, throne-like chair near the middle of the room, and towards the back near the window was a desk. Not a cozy environment, but nothing screamed shady.

At last she looked back to the tall fellow, who Lord Amon seemed inclined to believe was a trustworthy associate. He had cherry colored cheeks from grinning so wide, and a pleasant aura about him. Again, nothing struck her as disturbed or unsettling; but from exposed practice, she kept her guard up anyway.

“It’s good to meet all of you,” the man animatedly announced, reaching out to grab the nearest person’s hand, which happened to be Penimra’s. “Welcome, welcome! I am Master Eliwru Figgenbeard, the pleasure is all mine!”

Grimacing, the warlock struggled to free his gloved hand. It began to slid down his arm instead, so he begrudgingly and limply allowed the handshake, his eyes narrowed behind the avian-shaped mask.

“It most certainly is.”

Cutting in, Abernathy practically shoved Pen aside; saving the uncomfortable looking high-elf to offer his large hand. “Greetings and well met!”

“Ah! You are…?”

“Abernathy Harding; and the fellow’s name here to my left whose hand you just shook is Penimra Korvis.”

“Yes yes, pleasure to you both!” the hearty man sang joyously. With a twist and a yank, he managed to free his hand fairly quickly from the elder paladin, to extend it to the younger.

“You must be…?”

“Sulhadur, sir.”

“Ah, a pleasure. And you’re the jeweler, the uh… pardon, your name escapes me…?”

“Adela; thank you for seeing us on such an unexpected visit.”

“Lovely to meet you as well, miss. And you?”

Accepting the man’s hand, Ravamora’s eyes darted from his, to the gleaming rings on his hands. “Ravamora Carnivale.”

Essätha watched, tensely, awaiting to be recognized. It was neither a relief or a curse for him to instead, be drawn to the shine reflecting off of their cleric’s carapace. For a brief moment though, it gave her more time to collect herself and straighten her posture.

Delighted, the husky man extended his chubby fingers towards the Thri-Kreen. “Me oh my, I know just who you are! You are Pri-… Pri….?”

“They call me Pri’cha Sunspot,” chirped the bug, wiggling their antenna joyfully as they accepted the hand. “My friends do call me Pri too, on occasion.”

“Curious. This is… incredible. You are quite incredible, Pri’cha; what an honor!”

Pri’ sheepishly dipped their head as the man vigorously shook their clawed appendage. Briefly, the entire clustered group watched the interactions with mixtures of surprise and ease.

Finally, Eliwru’s eyes landed on Essie’s as he retrieved his hand from the cleric. His lips parted into an open-mouth grin of awe, and he rushed forward at her; making her freeze anxiously. The man smelled heavily of ginger, for some odd reason, and this close she could feel the fanning of his breathlessness against her face.

“Essätha Meduza as she lives in the flesh!” The man boisterously grasped her hand, squeezing it tightly. “I know exactly who you are!”

As if she wasn’t nervous enough, her legs felt wobbly and she offered a tense smile, barely holding to the man’s vice gripe.

“The letters did not lie; his description does you a great justice.”

“I…” she swallowed, forcing down the lump in her throat and the squeaky tone in her voice. “I’m sorry … Pardon? Letters?”

Puzzled, Eliwru knitted his brow. His grip relaxed. His tone still warm, he responded: “The posts I received from Master Illiad. Amon stated Essätha; that you, were a very fine, beautiful woman; with a breathtaking smile to match and mesmerizing golden eyes.”

Promptly, her features grew flush and rosy. She gaped at the man, hardly hearing the quiet snickers from her friends. They were sharing glances; most of them knowing, and impish little goblin grins.

Eyes widening, the man quickly picked up on her distress. He released her limp hand, gaping at her like a fish out of water.

“I- I-”

The door opened once more, an older woman stepping promptly towards their throng. Whatever she said next, Essätha did not hear. Her head was throbbing, and thankfully Abernathy seemed to perk up and immediately take charge of the conversation.

Still staring at her, conflicted, Eliwru wheezed. His tongue darted over his lips, looking as though he was trying to pay attention to the lady speaking to Essie’s backside, but he kept returning his gaze to her.

She was like a statue, frozen by pure shock. Everyone else had already, and thankfully, forgotten her for the woman and the news she brought, but Essätha could not get the man’s words out of her head.

Her Amon had called her what?

“Miss Meduza, I apologize,” the burly man whined, fidgeting. “I hadn’t meant to cause you harm. The letters you see, I- I thought-” he swallowed, “I t-thought you knew what he was writing it- it all seemed rather intimate I thought you two w-were-”

He thought they were what?

Eliwru never finished; a high-pitched keening sound like a deflating balloon expelling from his lungs slowly. He was positively red as the hair upon his head as he stepped away from her. With hands behind his back, he dipped his head respectively towards the door.

“Master I-Illiad how nice to s-see you again-!”

As though shaken awake, Essätha blinked rapidly and turned to face the threshold this time.

It was indeed the Briarton Protector; wearing a dull and uninterested neutral gray-tone today. His collar appeared a big tight, which added a rigid and dignified appearance to his posture as he glided in the room. The depths of the nobleman’s locks were somewhat mused, as though he’d ran a hand through his hair recently. His dark eyes skipped from the woman who had been speaking over to Eliwru as he was greeted.

Essie took it all in; but as she saw was perfection. It made her knees weak.

“Master Figgenbeard,” Amon greeted politely, accepting the man’s hand as he squeezed through the others. The man commented something quietly, and clipped, before quickly adverting all of his attention and conversation to the adjacent woman who had come with information.

Thoroughly perplexed, Amon looked after him a moment at the suddenness of the greeting, and quick dismissal. His regard swept the crowd, landing last on her.

He smiled, and Essätha’s heartrate dashed wildly.

What else were in those letters? What in the God’s creation had given him any impression? What impression?

Amon murmured his apology and quietly slid by the respectable crowd. He took a stand at the back, right beside Essie, as she stiffly wrung her hands. He leaned in close, his breath tickling her ear as he whispered, “Sorry I’m late.”

She nodded, finding herself lacking the bravery to look directly at him. “That’s alright. I’m glad to see you whole, and safe.”

A brief silence. From her peripherals, she could see him reach for her hand. A small part of her wanted to recoil; edgy and weary, but she did not. His rough hand gently took hold of hers, holding her with care. Again, her heart fluttered.

“Everything alright, Essie?”

Nodding once more, she glanced up at him. Oh Jubata he had such welcoming stunning eyes; kind and considerate.

“Yes, m’lord Amon. I was just thinking of you; concerned for your safety and well-being.”

She was suddenly and acutely aware of the way Eliwru glanced at her as she refereed to her nobleman by his retracted title. Even more then his glance, she was more aware of the softening in Amon’s features; the way his eyes closed a fraction and how his smile grew softer. Everything about the way he appeared now was something normal to her; his vulnerable features, the admiration in his gaze, but under the eyes of another came to her awareness equally how unnatural his appearance was.

Lord Amon Thomas Illiad was openly fawning over her.

“You don’t need to worry yourself over me, Essie.”

“But I do. I will anyway.”

Her words were louder then his whispers; almost blurted out, and part of her party distractedly looked over at her.

Timidly, her eyes wandered until they all stopped staring upon her and her deep maroon blush.

Trying to hide his raspy laughter, Lord Amon squeezed her hand with reassurance. “I’m fine,” he mouthed, “We’ll talk after this?”

Remaining mute and happy for it, Essie bobbed her head in answer.

Again with the bright smile, and he turned his attention back towards the lady droning on.

Exhaling a ragged breath, she turned her gaze back towards the woman as well, first catching their host’s wandering eye before he turned away, beet red. He fumbled with his hands, like he had been caught spilling some incredibly illusive secret.

Her complexion still tinted scarlet, her eyes flickered from her nobleman, back towards Eliwru.

As curious as she was to know what he had intended on saying; and humiliated by the situation, above all she was glad to simply have Amon back by her side. That was the best, most secure, most uplifting feeling of all.

[fluidsf]

Fluid Label Focus on Quantum Natives 5

J. Ka Ching: Another Vanishing City

Cover by J. and awe IX

Catalogue number: QNR026

Reviewed format: review copy of 320kbps/48kHz MP3 album as kindly provided by Quantum Natives

Welcome to the new review in the Fluid Label Focus series on the Quantum Natives label in which today I’m reviewing their most recent release, the album Another Vanishing City by J. Ka Ching. As always the album’s download includes all album tracks as MP3s, this time in 48kHz for better sound quality, as well as the cover artwork and also lyrics and credits text files. Indeed, you guessed it, this is one of the few song-based releases I’m reviewing on this album and Another Vanishing City does have quite a poppy sound to it, albeit with a quirky personality through energetic bursts of synths and Chinese influences in the instrumentation, but all about that in the next paragraph as I’ll first talk a bit about the album cover artwork. The album artwork is by J. Ka Ching (Jevon Voon) and awe IX and features a nifty collage like image of a Chinese style mountain landscape consisting of two different images of this landscape in monochrome layered over each other, with the background image seemingly showing an “older” image of the mountain than the more refined centre image. J. Ka Ching’s artist name and the album title feature on the cover in true Quantum Natives fashion, in heavily stylised graffiti like type that also has this wild post-internet alien feel to it but could also look a bit like a “remixed” version of Chinese characters. A very nice recognisable cover and overall it quite matches the Chinese aspects of this album’s sound as well. So indeed, let’s have a look at this 25 minute album’s 9 tracks now.

As I mentioned Another Vanishing City is pretty much a song driven album, though the tracks on the album are mostly quite short with the songs being mixed with shorter instrumental pieces making the album feel like a short soundtrack in a way. The lyrics of the songs themselves are quite abstract though noticeably emotional and a bit dramatic but in a good honest manner. As my listening manner is often leaning more on the sound and vibe of the music itself however, I’ll focus on the vocal performances and music itself which is definitely good. J. Ka Ching’s vocals are, while being noticeably auto-tuned, quite good with the emotions within the lyrics coming through clearly even with all the vocal effect processing. But what I noticed in particular, besides the vocals is that J. Ka Ching has quite a wild way of creating his music, mixing recognisable Deconstructed Club, PC Music synths and Asian influences together but in a way that jumps around in unpredictable enjoyable ways. You’re never quite sure what’s going to happen next and besides the songs the melodies on Another Vanishing City are quite aleatoric and abstract at times. The chaotic edge of J. Ka Ching’s music does make the music a notch disjointed at times, with the instruments and sound effects being on the edge of falling out of the tracks’ structures but this is definitely saved by J. Ka Ching’s excellent feel for refined production in his music, always letting the layers of sound and instruments interlock with each other in a pleasant way that’s not overly noisy. Looking at the separate tracks on Another Vanishing City, starting with See No Faces, which features a calm first half and an energetic explosive second half. The first half of this track features J. Ka Ching’s vocals over a mixture of Asian mallet instruments, liquid sound effects, choir samples, modulated synth chords and punchy sub bass. The melancholic sad music of the first half follows a nice polyrhythm in its melodies which leads directly into the more active second half. The second half has quite an explosive Deconstructed Club sound to it, with plenty of thunderous stuttering compressed drums and explosion sounds, squeaky PC music synth leads as well as a mixture of Asian mallet instruments and synth sounds. This then follows into second track plurrRealityz, Tio’tia:ke. Definitely one of the stronger tracks on this album plurrRealityz, Tio’tia:ke features a melodic and rhythmic abstract made up of a variety of sources, Asian instruments, vocal sample chops, quirky synth stabs, EDM bass kick samples and manipulated percussion and sound effects, in its organic wildly evolving shape it wonderfully describes what could be a calm mountain landscape in Japan, sunlight overflowing the trees and a lake nearby. Afterwards Yearning 4 The Ideal follows which has a more straight song form with more upbeat vocals and plenty of PC Music elements in the synth, beat but again there’s also plenty of sweet Asian instruments in the mix and the wild vocal manipulations add a great layer of quirkiness to the piece. Details like the ever shifting click Trap hi hat patterns and chopped up guitar give the music that bit extra that elevates it above other PC music related music. The melodies are simple but the execution of sound play, composition and of course J. Ka Ching’s energetic vocals make this a great fun track to jam to but its layering also rewards deeper listening into the soundscape of the piece. Afterwards we have two short pieces, the first of which is 客家 Guest Families, which is practically an a capella piece (not counting the segue interlude), there are some sweet harmonies in this one which are overdubbed by J. Ka Ching himself and the melodies are very catchy and well written. A great little song. Afterwards we have the instrumental track All Ghost’s Fear the Rooster’s Crow, which has a sweet early morning ambience to it, emitted through the warm tones of a mixture of Eastern instruments, honky tonk piano and funky drum hit samples, which do give the piece a playful abstract edge. The honky tonk piano recording in the background seems to be delayed a bit, its microtonal shifts in tone sounding a bit like distant car klaxons, a great subtle touch the music which enhances that early morning vibe. The Smell of Boiling Rice starts with a really lush melodic soundscape continuing that early morning ambience featuring a great guzheng performance by Xing Ru Zhong backed by vocal drones, explosive drum hits and squelchy synth effects which morphs into a rather bizarre circus like jumpy waltz rhythm melody which much poppies and full of PC music sounds particularly in the synths. The drum patterns are really wild and quirky, very nice, but it’s good that this bit is not longer as it contrast quite a lot with the lush ambience of the first half. Nexopias of Our Forgotten Ancestors follows with once again plenty of craziness in the composition and sound work but it’s one of the tracks where the organised chaos of elements works the best. The noisy groove mixing heavily percussive drum patterns, squeaky PWM synth, vocal chops is both catchy and energetic and has a clear focus in its progression and melodies. The guitar solo by Inland Island (which is a band, but there’s no specific credit for who plays the guitar in the credits text file) also adds a surprising Rock element to the piece which works well moving to the last part of the track in which the music strips itself back to the jumpy percussion and a bit crushed marimba melody. Then on Skid Swan Song we have a Vocaloid like voice singing the song over abstract metallic Asian style staccato synth melodies which leads to final track I’m Trying to Remember the Hue of the Sunlight. This is again a song with J. Ka Ching’s vocals, very PC Music like in this case with the poppy instrumental backing and squeaky energetic fat synth leads, the quirky layering of sound effects and guzheng performance definitely do give it that extra element of originality that I like about J. Ka Ching’s stronger tracks on Another Vanishing City. Indeed when he’s connecting his wildly maximalist approach to electronic music with a smoothly flowing composition and some restraint that keeps the music from going overboard with ideas that distract and disrupt the continuity of his music J. Ka Ching delivers a great mixture of atmospheric soundscapes, PC Music influenced songs that feature some great inspired compositional and sonic ideas that give the music a great conceptual coherency, especially on this album.

To conclude this review I would say that with Another Vanishing City, J. Ka Ching is on the way of shaping a personal style through his music that combines the best influences of pop inspired experimental music styles and Asian themed soundscapes with his excellent attitude to going all out with his quirky imagination in the rich production of the music. While I do feel that J. Ka Ching can work a bit on keeping the flow of his music consistent in its structure, Another Vanishing City is definitely a great enjoyable album as it is. I am definitely looking forward to seeing J. Ka Ching’s music grow even more on future releases but for now I recommend you to check out this album for some varied good creative vibes radiated through J. Ka Ching’s colourful music.

You can get the Quantum Natives free download version of this album via this Mediafire link here: http://www.mediafire.com/file/65u338hskidedi6/J.Ka_Ching-_Another_Vanishing_City__%2528QNR026%2529.zip/file

[graciieuse]

title:  “ The shameless kiss of vanity”

for: @dontcallmejoel

pairing: mcwidow 

w/c&rating: 997, M [allusions to sex] 

summary: stream of consciousness vignette of a morning-after from Widowmaker’s point-of-view. 

That warmth isn’t beside her when she wakes up. Why does he always go? Where does he always run off to? In the time it takes her to stretch out her weary bones and muscles, she discovers his heat is missing, but his scent is not. Eyes open, she looks around, and indeed sees a serape draped over her chaise lounge. It’s rare he stays the night. A drawn out fuck, a tender kiss, and then he’s gone. Curious, the assassin sits at the side of her bed, tossing her hair which had clung to her naked body into a loose bun.

Wrapping a robe around herself, she doesn’t bother going off to look for him. If he’s here, he’s here, and that is more than she deserves, anyway. She starts for the kitchen, deciding coffee might help draw her lover out, but when she makes her way down the tiny steps, a strong scent hits her nose.

He’s cooking.

“Didn’t wanna wake you, sweetheart.”

The words catch her off-guard, and she smiles, entering the tiny servants’ kitchen.

“You must have went to the market,” she says, sitting on a stool.

“For the rice and vegetables, yeah. This though--” he gestures to a fillet of fish blackening in the skillet, “--I caught.”

“You went fishing?”

“Found an old pole in your cellar.”

“What were you looking for originally?”

“Just taking a walk.”

The assassin grows silent. She wonders how much he still distrusts her. He’d be a fool not to, but mornings like this make her want something else. Normalcy. The thought is too pretty…

“Hey, I didn’t forget about you.” The gunslinger taps a steaming pot with a wooden spoon. Where did he even find all of this cookware? It’s wooden and cast iron…must be from this kitchen. She never cooks, but whatever is in this pot smells wonderful. She leans in, and frowns, seeing a fish head boiling, staring back at her. “It’s soup. I know you ain’t much of a chewer.”

“How thoughtful,” she deadpans, leaning over the hot stove to kiss him.

That look he gives her could make her blush, blood-flow willing. That charming half-smile doesn't leave her as he ladles soup in her bowl, and fixes his own plate. It's imprinted in her mind as she pours the two of them coffee. It's consuming her as they set for the table upstairs, and once the porcelain dishes thud against the hardwood table, she can't help but wrap her arms round his neck, and speak against his lips: “Thank you for breakfast.”

She wonders when she got so sick for him. She wonders how it's possible he compromised years of brainwashing, and managed to pull a person out her tangled mess of an existence.

His breath is warm on her. It reminds her of the night before-- how warm he made every inch of her.

“Don't thank me til you've had some.” His hands run over her spine. “Think you'll like it, though.”

She does.

Her spoon is scraping the bottom of the bowl as they talk idly of the lake and its clear water. How he could see the fish swimming to his hook. The soup is hearty and hot down her throat, but it doesn’t feel like rocks in her stomach like most food feels. Even the taste is pleasant. Heavy, but not sickening. Like his body pressed to hers. She wonders where he learned the recipe, where he learned to fish. There are so many things that they don’t know about each other.

“You really ain't never caught a fish from this lake?”

“Not that I can remember.”

“Mighty shame. Can practically live off them alone with how good they bite.”

“You will have to show me how next time.”

“You'll catch on in no time. Ain't nothing to it.”

She pushes her empty bowl to the side, and he picks at his teeth with a fishbone. As they finish their coffee, he lazes back in his chair, belly sticking out in satisfaction of a home-cooked meal. She rests her feet on his lap, sipping from her mug, looking out of her cloudy window.

“So when do you think you'll be done fixing up the place?”

She looks around at covered up crates, dust, work lights, paint, and so on. They've been untouched for months.

“Perhaps a couple of months.”

“You should let me help.”

“You’re never here long enough.”

She doesn’t mean to say it so bitterly, but the nervous smile he gives her tells her that she should be feeling guilty right now.

“I’m sorry, Jesse I-”

“Save it, sugar. I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

Looking up at the ceiling, she falls into silence. He’s rubbing at her ankle with his good hand. The skin across skin relaxes her. The heavy meal makes her eyelids heavy. While she still thinks she’s hurt him, all she can dwell on now is the simplicity of a lazy morning.

“Did you sleep well?” she asks.

“Like a baby,” he responds.

She hasn’t opened her eyes, but she knows he’s lying-- or at least telling a half-truth. Even with the coffee as strong as she’s brewed it, he’s been yawning. His eyes are red. He most certainly pulled an all-nighter. His hand continues to stroke her leg. Back and forth, back and forth.

They can never do normal, no matter how exponentially close they come to it. He’s a name on a list that she’s at liberty to cross off. The thought frustrates her. If things had not gotten so complicated, she could have done it ages ago. She can’t now, though. Far be it to question her superiors, but Jesse McCree doesn’t need a bullet through his head.

At least, that’s what she tells herself time and again. Chanting it in her mind. To push down the thought that it’s all for naught, and she will kill him someday.

How long can they keep up this charade?

Back and forth.

He’s so warm.

[pitterpatterpot]

A Lion’s Pride - Chapter 4

7.

“Would you like to have dinner with us?”

Gavriel pauses in folding paper, halfway through flattening a crease. Evangeline sits across from him on the table, startlingly serious as she looks at him expectantly, folded paper in her own hands. Gavriel had promised to help her learn how to make paper animals, a skill he picked up from a foreign country, understanding Evangeline’s joy of learning new skills. So far they’ve made paper crowns, straw boats and other creations, Evangeline readily taking up any challenge he faces her with. Next, he’s thinking of teaching her how to make a raft. And maybe Aedion as well; you’re never too young or old to earn.

“I’d love to come to dinner,” Gavriel smiles brightly, fondness bursting in his chest at the way she smiles back. “In the city or here?”

“The city,” Evangeline waves her hand. “Lysandra says she’s bored and wants Aedion to take us to one of his favourite places.”

“Of course I’ll come,” Gavriel fixes a small fold. “When is it?”

“In an hour.”

Pausing, Gavriel looks at her, Evangeline solely focused on the small crane in her hand. “I see. And, I have to ask this, do they both know I’m coming?”

Looking Confronted, Evangeline places her crane down, frowning. “Of course. Aedion wanted to ask you himself, I overheard him and Lysandra, but he was worried you’d be busy or wouldn’t want to come.”

At once there’s a flare of happiness at his son, and exasperation.

“I’ll never be too busy to come out to dinner,” Gavriel fondly tugs one of her braids with a gentle touch. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

“That’s what I said,” Evangeline rolls her eyes. “For adults you all overthink things quite often.”

Chuckling, Gavriel nods. “It appears we all do. Thank the gods we have you here to decipher everything.”

She smiles brightly, going back to her crane. Sorting through the colourful stacks of square paper Gavriel points out a needed fold, already contemplating whether or not the large lake behind the city, a little ways into the forest, would be a good area for raft building.

~~~

“Why is Gavriel here?” Aedion whispers to Evangeline, sitting down next to Lysandra and across from her, Gavriel absent to order.

“Lysandra said I could invite him,” Evangeline frowns.

Brows raising, Aedion slowly turns to shifter, who simply sips at her drink.

“I like Gavriel,” Lysandra offers as explanation, raising a brow. “Besides, I don’t know what he said but you haven’t had as many nightmares since-“ “Thank you, Lysandra,” Aedion gently cuts her off, eyes flicking to Evangeline, who studies her menu while muttering under her breath. “But you couldn’t have told me?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Lysandra shrugs. “You went out with my uncle and I last week. I was thinking that when he comes back from his meeting with the traders we could all go out to dinner or lunch together, the five of us.”

“That sounds nice,” Aedion stares at her. “Lovely. But you could have told me that Gavriel was coming instead of me meeting him in the bathroom? I had no idea why he was there!”

“That was just bad luck,” She hisses back, shrugging. “And, as I’ve already said, it was supposed to be a surprise!”

“Stop arguing!” Evangeline scowls at them, placing down her menu. “Gavriel’s here so just enjoy it! And you wanted him to come; you were just too embarrassed to ask.”

Aedion settles in his chair at that, glaring at Lysandra as she smirks.

Rejoining them at the table Gavriel takes a seat next to Evangeline, smiling once he realises that she’s folding the napkin into the shape of an animal. He bows down to help her during a few intervals, Aedion and Lysandra chatting across from them, occasionally stopping to peer at what they’re doing. Soon a little red rabbit sits on the table, Evangeline grinning brightly.

“So that’s why paper animals have been filling everyone’s offices,” Aedion grins, leaning forward. “Aelin’s been bragging about the multicoloured animals littering her office all week. She’s quite proud of having more than Rowan.”

Evangeline beams brightly, Gavriel following suit. The pure amount of crafts that have been littering the table as of late is outstanding.

“They’re quite good,” Lysandra admits. “Do you know how to make a ghost leopard?”

“Gavriel’s the best at making the more difficult animals,” Evangeline smiles brightly at the old man. “He can make the best leopards, wolves and penguins.”

“Penguins?” Aedion’s eyes strangely lights up. “I read about them. Do you know what they look like from drawings or have you seen any?”

“I once saw some when travelling in an arctic land,” Gavriel explains, remembering the wobbling little birds that crowded around him. “They were funny little things, very curious.”

His son’s entire face lights up. “Arctic birds that can swim but now fly. I heard they act like children.”

“They do in a way,” Gavriel gives a tiny smile, trying to fight the twitch of his lips. “Do you like them?”

“Ever since I first read about them,” Aedion grins widely. “Penguins, and hippos. Although I’ve actually seen hippos.”

“And here I was thinking ghost leopards are your favourite,” Lysandra rolls her eyes, yet smiles herself.

“Oh,” Aedion chuckles, smirking, lowering his eyes at her, “trust me, they are.”

Rolling her own eyes, Evangeline turns back to Gavriel. “Can you teach me how to make penguins next? You make them perfectly, and Aedion always loves the funny little animals you teach me to make. He keeps them all on the dresser by the bed; both mine and yours.”

Darting his eyes to the side Gavriel raises his brows at his son, who is blinking at something to the right, not quite looking at his father or Evangeline. Lysandra, on the other hand, grins wickedly, sending them both a wink.

“I’ll teach you as many funny little animals as you want,” Gavriel promises. “You pick up things like this very quickly.”

Evangeline nods, sitting straight with pride. “Thank you, you’re a very good teacher. Aedion’s good at things like this too; he makes the best flower crowns.”

“Really?” Gavriel turns to his son, who shifts in his seat.

“When we were traveling Aedion would make them from wild flowers for me,” Evangeline explains, “and now he gets my favourite flowers from the garden and sometimes surprises me with them.”

“You’ll have to teach me, then,” Gavriel smiles at his son, “in exchange for a penguin.”

A smile twitches wider on Aedion’s face. “In exchange for a penguin.”

The food is simple, not overly complicated, yet the spices and herbs have been handled in such a way that the flavours of the meet and sauce burst on the tongue. All the bread is light and fluffy and salted, some slices containing olives that give a burst of flavour. Needless to say they tear into the food like wolves (or a lion and leopard in Gavriel and Lysandra’s case).

“How often do you come here?” Gavriel asks Aedion once the chef comes out to greet him, exchanging a few friendly words before leaving again.

“This place has been open for years,” Aedion swallows. “It’s lamb is the best since it’s so fresh and they gain the best assortments of spices and herbs. It’s one of my favourite meals.”

“I see why,” Gavriel takes a bite of the meat, the tastes rolling over his tongue as the soft meet falls apart in his mouth.

The rest of the meal goes smoothly, conversation flowing easily between all of them. Evangeline listens to Aedion’s suggestions and orders a dessert consisting of a thick slab of custard with crispy pastry on the top and layering of pastry on the bottom soaked in what smells to be some kind of almond and citrus syrup.

“Manners,” Lysandra snorts, watching Aedion pull a top layer of pastry off the dish, shoving the square into his mouth as it drips syrup.

“There’ just so many ways to eat it,” Aedion shrugs, smirking as Evangeline copies his method. “I like to eat some of the top bits first since they’re the crunchiest.”

Rolling her eyes, Lysandra dips back down into her cake, Gavriel doing the same with his rolled pastry cradling vanilla and chocolate custard in the centre.

“Can we go see the markets?” Evangeline asks once they finish, prepared to pay. “It’s always lovely at this time.”

Indeed, the sun is just beginning to set, glazing the city in pinks and gold that will soon try to indigo. Lanterns are turning on in the markets, people both closing up stalls yet turning on window lights. It’s a treat, to walk through the city and see the actions of the persevering and resilient people.

“I don’t see why not,” Aedion easily agrees. “We can walk back to the palace through the markets and take in the sights.”

It’s a pleasant walk, Aedion lifting Evangeline onto his back at one point to dramatically save her from the puddles, exclaiming that they can’t have the smallest person in the group drowning. Watching them yell and squabble, Evangeline booming out her loud laughter as she gently pounds at Aedion while he carries her around, places smiles on both Gavriel’s and Lysandra’s faces.

Giggling, Evangeline allows Aedion to lower her to the ground, flushed and out of breath. “That was fun! It’s like when you throw me!”

Lysandra turns to her young ward. “Throw you? When does Aedion ever-“

“Lysandra look, boots!” Aedion chastely pulls her towards a shop window, black fur-trimmed winter boots on display.

“Could you cary me?” Evangeline asks Gavriel, examining him as if contemplation his climbing worth.

“Of course,” Gavriel replies, and easily allows the young girl to climb onto his back as she did with Aedion, holding onto her legs as she loops her arms around his neck.

Such an overwhelming wave of protectiveness and affection for the girl washes over him that it snatches away Gavriel’s breath for a moment, returning again with splendid warmth as she rests her cheek against his shoulder. Lysandra and Aedion run around together just a little further up the street, Aedion twirling Lysandra around, the moonlight beginning to shine off the cobblestones. he watches his son, who’s golden features are highlighted with the dim glow, dip and twirl Lysandra, who’s pale skin and glossy black hair shine in the light.

He’ll hold this moment close to his heart, for however long he has left.

“You really love Aedion, don’t you,” Evangeline whispers, cheek warm through Gavriel’s shirt and jacket.

“I do,” he swallows thickly, the words seeming like a silent mid-night promise. “I love him more than I thought it was possible to love anything. That’s what it can be like when you become a parent; you just feel this overwhelming devotion to this precious thing that holds a piece of you, that’s a product of you.”

“You should tell him you love him,” Evangeline suggests just as quietly. “Just tell him outright. I think it would make him really happy. I’m glad to have you as a grandfather.”

“Maybe I will tell him,” Gavriel watches his son dip his love one more time, a smile adorning his features and blue eyes bright as he does so. “And I have to say that you are a magnificent granddaughter.”

He feels her smile against his shoulder, and it’s all he can do to keep from spinning the young girl around in his arms and throwing her in the air.

They continue their walk, Evangeline deciding to descend from Gavriel so she may walk and talk with everyone without glancing over Gavriel’s shoulder. It’s not long before they pass an area that Gavriel usually frequents, filled with stores that he likes to visit to at once complete errands and find paper with different patterns for Evangeline and him to use.

“Excuse me? Lord Gavriel?”

Gavriel smiles at the woman in her early-forties, brown hair yet to grey and hazel eyes bright, that’s stepped in front of him. It’s easy to recognise her as a female that serves at one of his favourite shops, Lucia, always eager to aid him in the finding of crafts.

“Lucia,” Gavriel smiles. “How are you tonight? Closing up for the day?”

“Oh! Yes,” Luca shifts to the side, glancing at him again. “You see, I was actually wondering if, perhaps, you had any plans tomorrow? Around lunch? I-I quite enjoy our conversations and was wondering if you’d like to continue them over a meal with me?”

For a good minute, Gavriel’s mind blanks. He has been propositioned by females before over the years by those brave enough to ask, yet it’s been a little while thanks to the war and rebuilding of the country. Also, he has no idea what the hell to do with Aedion, Lysandra and Evangeline staring at him from behind the female, Lucia completely unaware of their audience.

Aedion, Lysandra and Evangeline all stare at Gavriel, who appears to be frozen as he stares at the woman in front of him. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t blink. It’s as if his mind has been shut off. Giving a delicate cough Lysandra breaks Gavriel from his trance, nodding towards Lucia, green eyes wide.

“Yes,” Gavriel blink at her, replying on instinct.

A smile blooms across her face, wiping away the lingering anxiety. “Excellent! I close at twelve, so meet me then!”

She throws him another beaming smile as she leaves, ducking down the street.

They stand in silence.

“Holy fuck.”

“Aedion!”

“What? It’s not as if Evangeline doesn’t know worse!”

~~~

“Aedion!” A pounding sounds out on the bedroom door, both Aedion and Lysandra jumping to their feet.

“What is it?” Aedion flings open the door, pulling on a white shirt as he does so.

Lysandra closely follows suit, unabashedly undressed and fully prepared to shift.

“I need you to come with me,” Vaughan orders, addressing Aedion. “It’s not an emergency, but we do need your presence for a private discussion. No need to get dressed or overworked.”

Aedion blinks slowly at the fully dressed and presentable fae. “It’s three in the morning.”

“We’ll explain later,” Vaughan shakes his head. “Just come as you are; it won’t take long.”

“I’m going back to bed,” Lysandra mumbles, shuffling back under the covers. “Scream if anything bad happens and you need me.”

He gives her a thumbs up before following Vaughan, glowering at his back the entire way, dressed in only soft, long black pants, a white shirt and his hair ruffled. Not exactly fitting for the warrior prince of the north, but it’s not like anyone’s awake to see.

Vaughan takes him to a room where a fire place flickers, filling the carpeted room in warmth. Rowan, Lorcan and Fenrys all stand around the room (well, Rowan and Lorcan are, Fenrys is sprawled on the end of a couch pressed against the wall). The thing that annoys him most is the fact all of them are immaculately dressed, as if it’s ten in the morning an they’ve had plenty of time to bathe and prepare instead of it being three in the fucking morning.

Without waiting Aedion heads straight to the couch, dropping down on the side opposite Fenrys, bringing his legs up to stretch out across the piece of furniture as he reclines back on a pillow, clutching a second one against his stomach to give his hands something to do (he should have brought some weapons. They all have weapons. He feels under-armed).

“So,” Vaughan sits in an armchair, clasping his hands. “We heard some very interesting news.”

“Apparently Gavriel was asked to meet for lunch today by a female,” Rowan raises a brow by the fire. “Is this true?”

Slowly, Aedion blinks once again, head still aching from being awoken so abruptly from such a deep sleep. “I… You all got ready at three in the morning to discuss my father’s love life?”

“It’s been years since Gavriel has accepted any kind of invitation,” Lorcan muses, eyes narrowed as if assessing a possible enemy. “Not since…”

At once all four of the males look to Aedion. Holding his head up high, Aedion meets all of their gazes one by one, eyes narrowed. He may be a little, well, grumpy, at being woken up at three in the morning.

“Gavriel should be here soon,” Fenrys looks at the clock. “We told him to come twenty minutes after we brought you here so it would give us plenty of time to have a chat.”

Gripping the pillow in his hands, Aedion’s eyes flicker to each of the former cadre members. “Why do you need twenty minutes to talk to me at three in the morning?”

He may be a little hung up on how fucking early it is. Aren’t old people supposed to need to sleep?

“It’s just that it’s been a few years-“

“Decades more like it-“

“-since Gavriel spent time with a companion,” Rowan continues on, glaring an Fenrys’ interruption. “What can you tell us about her?”

“In her early forties, brown hair, hazel eyes, owns a store that holds craft items,” Aedion immediately lists. “Gavriel’s meeting her at her store in Serf’s Street for lunch.”

“And have you spent any time with her?” Lorcan questions. “Have you held conversations with her?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be in Perranth? Why are you even here?”

“I flew here after Fenrys sent word using magic. Now answer me.”

“No,” Aedion growls. “I have not talked to her.”

“Right,” Rowan nods seriously. “Aedion, you should understand that Gavriel, after your mother, took little interest in finding other partners-“

“-Very little interest-“

“-but now he may be finding himself interested in another person-“

“-who could make him happy-“

“-though your relationship with him has been growing-“

“-so there’s nothing to worry about-“

“-and I’m sure you can positively encourage his new relationship-“

“-you’re still his favourite-“

“FENRYS,” Rowan growls, snarling at the other male. “STOP TALKING. FOR FUCK’S SAKE, STOP TALKING.”

“I’m going back to bed,” Aedion points to the door, preparing to stand from where he’s sunken into the couch, already nearly asleep again thanks to the soft surface.

His first night without nightmares, where he may actually be able to get a decent, full-night’s sleep, and it’s ripped from him thanks to this bullshit.

“Don’t go,” Fenrys crosses his arms, growling in annoyance. “The main message is that were worried about Gavriel since he hasn’t done this in a long time, and we hope you don’t feel threatened.”

“Threatened?” Aedion scowls at him. “Why the rutting hell would I feel threatened?”

“It’s just,” Vaughan clears his throat, obviously uncomfortable, “if you think that Gavriel will forgot about your mother by finding interest in another female-“

“I wasn’t thinking that,” Aedion snaps. “I’m not worried about any of that. I’m an adult, not a child; Gavriel can see whoever he damn likes.” “Well, good,” Rowan nods, frowning. “But, there’s also something else we realised none of us have discussed with you.”

“You mean your ridiculous waking times?” Aedion responds dryly.

“No,” Rowan releases a breath. “We realised that we never told you that we were available if you ever needed support.”

“What did Gavriel tell you?” Aedion growls, tensing, eyes narrowing.

He wouldn’t. His father wouldn’t tell others of how Aedion panics, of how his breath occasionally is stolen from his chest by his pounding heart. Gavriel wouldn’t reveal how much Aedion actually struggles with certain subjects, how memories can wash over him to the point where their gravity brings him to his knees. But if his father was to tell anyone, was to one day collapse under the strain of being Aedion’s father, who better for him to talk and complain to then his fellow former-cadre members? His oldest comrades?

“What?” Fenrys blinks at Aedion, head cocking in a purely lupin movement. “Gavriel hasn’t told us anything. What’re you going on about, boyo?” He grins, leaning in close. “You two hiding a secret?”

“Please let me leave,” Aedion closes his eyes, resting his head against the couch.

It’s too early for this shit. His head aches, his body is tired (he may be training a tad too much, but it helps the thoughts in his mind go blank) and guilt curdles in his stomach at his belief of Gavriel’s betrayal.

And, technically, he needs to be up and ready for the day in another three hours, even though he went to sleep at one. So he’s going off two hours of sleep, was rudely awoken, has to try to navigate the cadre’s codes and deal with Fenrys. That last one grates on his nerves more then anything.

“No,” Rowan outrightly refuses his request. “What we mean is that we served by Gavriel for years-“

“Hundreds of years-“

“FENRYS I SWEAR TO THE GODS-“

“Fine!” The golden-haired male holds up his hands. “Fine. Please, continue.”

Glaring, Rowan momentarily closes his eyes, sucking in a deep breath. “Gavriel is our friend, and as his son, we hope you know that we’re willing to support you should you ever need it.”

“Within reason.”

All three fae males growl at Lorcan, who simply shrugs.

“Alright,” Aedion easily agrees. “Now, goodnight-”

“What are you all doing here?”

Gavriel scans the room, from Rowan and Lorcan standing by the fireplace to Vaughan sitting in an armchair and Fenrys lounging on a couch. The couch that his son is sprawled on the other end of, dressed in sleepwear, a pillow cliched against him, blue eyes bleary and blond hair mused, very nearly asleep. Gavriel resists the urge to grab a blanket and tuck it around his son, knowing that the gesture will not be well received by his son while in the presence of the others.

“I’m going to bed,” Aedion says sullenly. “Have fun with your friends.” But then he realises that his father is properly dressed and equiped for the day. “Why the hell are you all so dressed and ready so early in the morning?”

“I assumed this would be a political meeting of some sorts,” Gavriel bunches his brows, analysing Aedion. “How much sleep have you had?”

“Not enough,” Aedion mumbles, shuffling to his feet. “And next time any of you want to talk do it during lunch.” He turns away, shaking his head and muttering as he steps out of the room. “I am so done with you people.”

With that he slams the door behind him, the five fae still able to hear him muttering through the door.

“Isn’t his generation wonderful?” Fenrys comments lightly.

“So,” Gavriel turns back to his companions, “why did you drag my son out of bed so early in the morning and then call me here?”

“Don’t worry, the boyo will still get his sleep,” Fenrys rolls his eyes. “We heard you had an outing today.”

“So you decided to tell me to meet you at three in the morning?” Gavriel rubs at his face. “What did you do to Aedion?”

“Nothing,” Vaughan says placatingly. “We just told him we were available if he ever needed support for anything. So, tell us about this female.”

Gavriel looks at the four fae males staring at him expectantly, and shakes his head. “Goodnight.”

“But-“

Gavriel continues walking through the door. “Goodnight,” he says once again, and shuts it behind him.

~~~

“Should we be doing this?” Fenrys asks as they monitor the shop. “Gavriel will probably spot us.”

“If he does then we’ll say we’re shopping,” Lorcan snaps. “Why are you the one having doubts now?”

“I don’t know, I just-“

“What are you all doing?”

The four fae males turn from where they crouch in the alley way, Aedion standing in the other end, blinking at them.

“Hey boyo!” Fenrys is the first to react, standing up and waving. “What are you doing here?”

“...I went for a walk with Lysandra...”

“Where is she?” Rowan asks casually, as if he isn’t a king suspiciously crouching in an alley way.

“She went back, I wanted to get some fruit…” Aedion looks at each of them in turn. “What are you doing? Are- are you seriously spying on Gavriel?”

“Be a good boy and go back to the castle,” Fenrys scowls, waving him away with a hand. “We’re handling this, no need to worry about your pop.”

Aedion stares at him, then turns to Rowan. “You’re the king, do you seriously not have better things to do?”

“Why are you buying fruit?”

“Because I couldn’t go back to sleep and have been working since three in the morning, and I want breakfast and I’ve finished all my work,” Aedion’s face clouds over. “Lysandra and Aelin banned me from intervening and trying to help with their work. Aelin said she wanted me to relax, and that I was tiring her out and boring her just by being around.”

“Then go back home and take a nap,” Fenrys waves his hand again. “Go on, shoo. Gavriel will probably be attracted and more interested in your scent then ours.”

Aedion spends another good minute starring at Fenrys, then snaps his gaze to Lorcan. “What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s stressed about doing this,” Lorcan deadpans back.

“Then don’t do it!” Aedion snaps. “Gods. To think you’re all the ancient warriors. Aelin does less idiotic things then this.”

“Gavriel is constantly caring for others,” Vaughan draws Aedion’s attention. “Over the years he’s looked out for each of us, he’s been our soundboard in the middle of arguments and has always held resilience. We’re worried about him, and want to make sure he’ll be alright with doing something like this for the first time in years.”

Aedion assesses him for a moment, then sighs and nods. “Fine.”

“Aren’t you curious?” Fenrys raises his brows. “Your father is interested in a female you don’t know. Aren’t you wondering how it’ll go?”

“Yes,” Aedion scowls, “but unlike you I have the sense to ask him later tonight.”

With that Aedion leaves the four fae males in the alley, all of them turning back to the task at hand. They watch as Gavriel enters the store, chatting with the female inside before they both exit, Gavriel holding the door open for her then standing to the side as she locks it. They descends down the street, ready to find a meal to share together. With their lethal grace the four fae males follow them, ready to at least assess the female for a few minutes themselves.

~~~

“So why are your friends following us?” Lucia asks, sipping at her lemon drink, the ice clinking in the glass.

“I think they’re just curious about you,” Gavriel chuckles, aware of the four pair of eyes watching them.

“And where are they now?” Lucia leans forward, grinning.

Gavriel leans forward, also smiling. “Vaughan is on a roof to the left behind me, Lorcan on a rooftop to the right, Fenrys is pretending to be interested in a store behind you to the right, and Rowan is trying to avoid attention by staying in the alley ways, attempting to listen in. I think Aedion was with them a little earlier before, but he left after two minutes. I don’t think he was a part of it. I just can’t believe that they’re all still at it after two hours.”

“It’s been fun, though, dragging them through the city,” Lucia smirks, giggling slightly. “His Royal Majesty was nearly found out at one moment.”

Gavriel can’t help but smile back, the joy of the day brimming inside of him. “He was. It’s much harder for him to hide and just walk around then the rest of us. When Aelin goes out with Aedion she has to either keep her hood up or stick to the quieter streets, or try to get lost in crowds.”

“Aedion as in Aedion Ashryver?” Lucia tips her head to the side. “I see him walking around quite a bit. You’d think he’d be busy with work, but he always did seem a little irresponsible.”

Pausing, Gavriel contemplates the situation. “What do you know of him?”

He hasn’t told her yet of his relation to Aedion, seeing as how Lucia doesn’t seem to know. He should tell her that he has a child, but it seems like a little detail best left for later. Besides, he has a feeling that if Lucia did know she wouldn’t be so open in her opinion of Aedion.

“Don’t you know Aedion?” Lucia asks.

Gavriel gives another smile, a little forced, yet smoothing it over with charm. “Not very well. Tell me what you think of him; I have some thoughts of my own.”

He can see the tension leek from her. No longer is she talking to an official who may be mad at her opinion, but instead a person who may share the same opinion as her, someone who it shall be safe to complain to.

“It’s just,” she lowers her voice, tucking her words under her breath, “he always seemed so irresponsible, and was always breaking rules. Not to mention how arrogant he seems. It’s a little inappropriate, don’t you think, for him to act that way considering how he whored himself? You’d think he’d have a little more shame, but I suppose it’s not his fault considering that his mother wasn’t able to control herself either.”

The words shock Gavriel to the point where his mind blanks. Not noticing, Lucia continues on.

“I suppose the boy was raised in a rather horrible environment, and none of us know the real him all that well,” she muses.

That helps Gavriel relax slightly.

“I mean, no wonder the boy was twisted enough to not be able to choose between females and males,” Lucia clicks her tongue. “He must have been so confused, especially with no proper male role model to teach him to properly like females. It’s no wonder he whored himself to both genders.”

And the tension is back. Slowly, Gavriel casually removes his hand from his glass, knowing that if he keeps it in his grip he may very well break it.

“When you say twisted…” Gavriel clears his throat, “you mean…”

“I know the previous king preferred males,” Lucia sighs, “but that’s fine. At least he knew what gender he liked. But for someone to be so confused that they can’t just pick one is awful. I mean, it honestly all just becomes so much more confusing and complicated when people can’t be bothered to decide. At least Aedion Ashryver has finally managed to pick a gender and is with a female now.”

“But you do understand that he can still be attracted to males, yes?” Gavriel pushes, voice low and incredulous. “He doesn’t just magically become not interested in a gender anymore.”

“Well he’s picked one now,” Lucia frowns. “At least there’s that. I heard the boy found his father so hopefully he’ll help reprimand the boy on the mistakes he’s made and set him on the right path.”

Something slick and sick rolls over in Gavriel’s stomach. He has a feeling that Lucia’s definition of ‘mistake’ differs from his own.

“Aedion’s my son,” Gavriel says the words with pride, allowing them to fall with honour. “I’m his father.”

He watches the colour of her skin begin to drain, her mouth opening and closing as if trying to reclaim the words. “I…”

They both sit there, Lucia flushed and Gavriel wincing, both looking away from the other.

“I’m sorry,” Lucia sounds choked. “If I had known I would have…”

“Kept your opinions to yourself,” Gavriel gives a forced smile. “I know. It’s fine, Lucia. You’re entitled to your opinion.”

“I don’t think I can be with someone who has a child that’s so…” she obviously hesitates to find the right word, “confused.”

“I don’t think I can be with someone who classifies my son’s preferences as a ‘mistake,’” Gavriel agrees, some of his agitation leaking through.

“Right,” Lucia looks away, hand inching towards her bag. “Again, I’m sorry, but…”

“Right,” Gavriel nods, pushing his chair back. “Thank you for the invitation. I have had a lovely time.”

“Me too,” Lucia nods as she stands. “Thank you.”

With that she walks down the street, Gavriel going in the opposite direction. He ignores the eyes of his friends on him, knowing that there’s at least a small chance that one of them managed to hear their conversation. Hopefully over the noice of the crowd and their distance they were unable to make out most of the conversation.

~~~

“Why were you all watching me?” Gavriel raises a brow at the four males standing in the end of the alley way.

“Gavriel!” Fenrys splits into a grin. “Were just shopping for-“

“Cut the bullshit, Fenrys.”

“Yeah, we were watching you.”

“We just,” Rowan hesitates, “uncertain of how it would go.”

“It’s been a while since you went out with anyone,” Lorcan scowls, crossing his arms defensively. “We wanted to see who caught your attention.”

“We know we may have intruded upon your personal space,” Vaughan raises his hands, “but we honestly wanted to see how it would go and if you’d need any help.”

Gavriel places his head in his hand, closing his eyes. “Need any… Next time you’re all worried about me, just ask instead fo stalking me during a date.”

“We weren’t stalking,” Rowan denies, crossing his arms as well. “We were observing a target.”

“Besides, wouldn’t you be worried about Aedion on his first date?” Fenrys points out.

“One, Aedion is with Lysandra and even if he was young enough to go on a first date I fully believe in his abilities to take care of himself,” Gavriel lists dryly, running his eyes over them. “Two, this is not my first date; I’m over five hundred years old and trust me when I say I have experience. Three, I am fully capable of taking care of myself.”

“We know,” Vaughan sighs. “We’re sorry for intruding, and for how it ended.”

Gavriel shrugs, attention wandering slightly. “Don’t be. I’m not sure it was going to go anywhere. It’s been years since I’ve had a serious relationship.”

Not since a golden, bold beauty that danced under the stars with him, bellowing a laugh her son, their son, now holds in his throat.

“Maybe it’s time to move on?” Fenrys suggests gently, quietly, dark eyes looking to Gavriel with worry. “None of us could work out why you were so devastated, but it’s been years. You’ve spent time with companions, we know, but none of them were real relationships.”

Not that it was easy to form relationships with Meave as a ruler. It’s one of the reason why Gavriel was so disappointed when Lorcan ended his relationship with that kind, smart fae female. Although he much rather prefers Elide for him now that he’s had the pleasure of meeting the wonderful woman and travelling with her.

“I know,” Gavriel clears his throat, glad suddenly for their presence, their support. “But now that Aedion’s here, now that I know what she’s gifted me with, I think I’ll focus on family.”

“We understand,” Rowan nods, voice quiet. “I think that’s all that’s really left to focus on now.”

A new court, one where they don’t have Meave lording over their heads, keeping them apart from one another. A new court where they can truly strengthen their bonds, and no have to hide their support of one another out of fear of their queen seeing it as possible treachery.

“Thank you,” Gavriel says honestly, smiling at all of them. “For all you have done, and all we shall do for one another.”

Even Lorcan smiles back.

“But for gods sakes, please stop dragging my son out of bed at three in the morning.”

~~~

“So, boyo,” Fenrys grins at Aedion, “turns out you won’t be gaining a step-mother.”

“Why?” Aedion has his head in his hands, voice weak. “Why do you all meet at these times? What have I done to you?”

The clock on the mantel on top of the fire place reads two in the morning. Giving up on all professionalism Aedion this time curls up entirely on the couch, resting his head on a pillow and prepared to sleep if he needs to. Next time he’ll bring a blanket; the fire is nice, but the solid weight of a blanket helps keep him grounded during the night (and he could use it to smother Fenrys. Or Rowan. Or any of them, really.)

“We do it because other people are likely to be asleep,” Vaughan explains. “There’s less of a chance of being heard in on.”

“I’d like to be asleep like those people. I should go do that.”

“Either way we thought we should let you know that what Lucia said is of no matter,” Rowan says, voice firm and sure. “Gavriel assured that in his actions and words.”

Blinking slowly, Aedion sits up. “What did Lucia say to Gavriel?”

At once all four of the males share panicked glances. Aedion feels the tension that slowly spears through the room, as noticeable as someone slowly ripping a thick sheet of paper to reveal a fact lurking behind it.

“We though you, uh, talked to Gavriel?” Fenrys leans forwards, inching closer to Aedion on the couch. “About how lunch went?”

“No,” Aedion narrows his eyes. “He told me it was fine.”

Fenrys sits back, all the males either shuffling away slightly or sinking lower into their seats. Rowan taps his fingers on the armrest, unable to look at Aedion, and the wolf of the north narrows his eyes at the un-characteristic fidgeting.

“What happened?” Aedion pushes. “I- Did Lucia say something about me?”

“You know what? Here’s a blanket,” Fenrys quickly grabs one from the rooms closet and shoves it in Aedion’s arms. “Why don’t we tell you a story about the good old and you go back to sleep?”

“How old do you think I fucking am?” Aedion sits up properly, throwing the blanket back at Fenrys. “Tell me what happened?”

“Nothing,” Lorcan insists, voice hard. “Gavriel would have told you so if it was of any consequence.”

“Yet you woke me up at three in the morning, again, to tell me that what she said doesn’t matter?” Aedion growls through gritted teeth.

“Ask Gavriel,” Fenrys slowly begins to stand. “It’s his business. Really, Aedion, you shouldn’t go poking around in it.”

“His busi- YOU FOLLOWED HIM FOR THREE HOURS TODAY!”

“Learn from our mistakes, boyo! Be better then your elders!”

“I AM BETTER THEN YOU, YOU EARLY-RISING ASSHOLES!”

~~~

“Did Lucia say something bad about me?” Aedion asks, sitting besides Gavriel on the lip of the palace gardens fountain.

The flowing of the fountain water is the only sound as Gavriel looks to Aedion, a blue piece of folded paper in his hands. Slowly, Gavriel places it down on the fountain lip, face grave. “Who told you that?” Gavriel clasps his hands, sitting forward.

“Fenrys, Rowan, Lorcan and Vaughan,” Aedion resists growling, trying to keep his voice at the same even pace as Gavriel’s. “Why did you tell me it was fine when apparently it went horribly?”

Gavriel sighs. “Because in a way it was fine. I had a lovely day with her, even if we decided not to pursue a relationship. We parted amiably and it has no grand effect on our lives.”

“I just,” Aedion stares down at his closed fists. “I wanted to apologies if my… reputation, was the reason why you were unable to form a relationship.”

Something sick churns in him at the idea of that. He knows people question his right to stand by Aelin, and he’ll never forget the words Darrow once spitted in Aelin’s face, outing Aedion as a shameful ally to have. Never has he cared of what other people think of him, more then ready to dirty his hands and reputation for Terrasen, but now that the war is over there’s the issue of how his standing position affects those around him. Guilt curdles in him at the though of anyone commenting to Evangeline of who the people who raise her truly are, of having people spit at her that Lysandra and he are whores. of having Aelin have to defend him at every turn, people questioning her judgement as queen. Of Gavriel being shamed for siring such a deceitful, horrible mistake, or, worse, being ashamed of Aedion himself.

“Aedion,” Gavriel sighs again, the sound of annoyance nearly causing Aedion to flinch, “trust me when I say that it wasn’t Lucia’s opinion of you as much as why her opinion of you was the way it was.”

“I don’t…”

“She had some very twisted,” Gavriel’s mouth curdles at the word ’twisted,’ “views on what was wrong and what was right in terms of who people should prefer when it came to gender, as well as some other topics we didn’t agree on.”

“Oh,” Aedion clears his throat. “Was it about how I…”

“Partly,” Gavriel admits. “In truth, she had some very strong opinions concerning you and other topics that I didn’t agree on. Trust me when I say that it was fine, Aedion, and that all is cleared.”

“Right,” Aedion nods. “I just want you know that if someone, for some reason, dislikes me then you shouldn’t allow that to ruin your relationship with them. plenty of people dislike me, or at the very least have heard about my history-“

“Aedion,” Gavriel interrupts, “I’m not going to form a relationship with people who clearly dislike someone I love.”

Love.

The word makes Aedion’s breath hitch in his throat, his heart stutter and hands clench. He suddenly can’t look at his father, tears sprinting unaided into his eyes.

“You don’t need to say anything back,” Gavriel murmurs, holding out a small blue penguin, “but I feel as though I need to say it. I don’t care what your past contains; you are my child, and with that come unconditional love.”

Unconditional love.

Ignoring the tears rolling down his cheeks Aedion takes the penguin, smiling at it. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to apologies to me for,” Gavriel answers just as softly. “I know you have your own demons to face, but I need you to know that I’m not one of them, that I’d rather love and support you then strike fear into you.”

Aedion accepts the hand on his shoulder, quickly wiping away his tears. “Your friends are assholes when it comes to waking people up. I’ve started to leave blankets in random rooms.”

“I know, it’s come in quite handy,” Gavriel stands, offering Aedion his hand. “Come on, let’s go and see if we can convince Lorcan to stay a little while longer to help tell you stories about our past missions.”

Clasping Gavriel’s hand, Aedion accepts the support. “I’d like that.”

"Great. We'll build the raft tomorrow, I just need to find Evangeline a net."

"...I have no idea what the hell that means."

[heartsandmiinds]

2. Fill in the questions/statement as if you are being interviewed for an article and you were your muse

3. Tag 10 people to do this meme, (repost, don’t reblog)

TAGGED BY: @jamesfactscalvin​

TAGGING: @mangledmenagerie​, @murderousmrzsasz​, @selina-taylor​, @malicendredwine​, @firstlove-thesea​, and @ofseances​

1. WHAT IS YOUR NAME?

Violante

2. WHAT IS YOUR REAL NAME?

Violante Quintara de Camora

3. DO YOU KNOW WHY YOU WERE CALLED THAT?

I do, but it’s far too long of a story to explain.

4. ARE YOU SINGLE OR TAKEN?

Single

5. HAVE ANY ABILITIES OR POWERS?

I do indeed. A vast expanse of powers that would make you writhe at the mention.

Originally posted by a12lmwbm

6. STOP BEING A MARY SUE/GARY STU.

I’m sorry? What did you call me?

7. WHAT’S YOUR EYE COLOR?

Dark Brown

8. HOW ABOUT YOUR HAIR COLOR?

See eye color.

9. HAVE YOU ANY FAMILY MEMBERS?

I do, but none of them are alive anymore. It’s been centuries.

10. OH? WHAT ABOUT PETS?

None

11. THAT’S COOL I GUESS, NOW TELL ME ABOUT SOMETHING YOU DON’T LIKE.

I don’t like it when people assume certain things about vampires. We sparkle in the sunlight.

12. DO YOU HAVE ANY HOBBIES/ACTIVITIES YOU LIKE DOING?

I do. Some illegal, some not...dancing is one of my best hobbies.

13. EVER HURT ANYONE BEFORE?

I had to...sometimes I didn’t mean to, but I have to eat too like anyone else.

14. EVER… KILLED ANYONE BEFORE?

Countless times, but I was a newborn vampire. I was learning the ropes. 

15. WHAT KIND OF ANIMAL ARE YOU?

Serpent.

16. NAME YOUR WORST HABITS.

Forgetting about the blood splatters on my clothes after a long night.

17. DO YOU LOOK UP TO ANYONE AT ALL?

My family...and as much as I don’t like admitting it, but my first significant other I haven’t seen in decades.

18. GAY, STRAIGHT, OR BISEXUAL?

Does it matter? Bisexual. But does that matter?

19. DO YOU GO TO SCHOOL?

No.

20. DO YOU EVER WANT TO MARRY AND HAVE KIDS ONE DAY?

No. The latter isn’t an option for me...it was at one time...

21. DO YOU HAVE ANY FANBOYS/FANGIRLS?

If I do, I’m not aware of it.

22. WHAT ARE YOU MOST AFRAID OF?

Admitting my true self to my current lover.

23. WHAT DO YOU USUALLY WEAR?

I always look scantily clad or my cleavage is always on display. One or the other.

24. DO YOU LOVE SOMEONE?

I do.

25. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU WET YOURSELF?

Wet as in...let’s just say it’s been a while for what you’re thinking of.

26. WHAT CLASS ARE YOU? (HIGH CLASS, MIDDLE CLASS, LOW CLASS)

High.

27. HOW MANY FRIENDS DO YOU HAVE?

A smattering all around. Are we counting the friends that are dead as well?

28. WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON PIE?

I love pie, it’s a wonderful dessert. Pleasant smell, pleasant taste as long as it’s not cherry or has cinnamon in it.

29. FAVORITE DRINK?

Diet Coke.

30. WHAT’S YOUR FAVOURITE PLACE?

My home.

31. ARE YOU INTERESTED IN SOMEONE?

Plenty of people.

32. WHAT’S YOUR BRA CUP SIZE AND/OR HOW BIG IS YOUR WILLY?

D

33. WOULD YOU RATHER SWIM IN THE LAKE OR THE OCEAN?

Neither, thank you.

34. WHAT’S YOUR TYPE?

Anything that catches my eye.

35. ANY FETISHES?

So many.

36. SEME OR UKE? TOP OR BOTTOM? DOMINANT OR SUBMISSIVE?

A little bit of Dom a little bit of Sub, it all depends on my mood.

37. CAMPING OR INDOORS?

Indoors, please.

38. ARE YOU WANTING THE QUIZ TO END?

I thought this was an interview? Either way yes, end it.

[blueares]

Ruination Rewrite: Ixtal

Ixtal Part I

You wander through the Sentinel vaults alone, looking over ancient artifacts the Sentinels have gathered over the years. Not much stands out of interest, save for the uncarved Relictsone chunks and the sole fetter you acquired in Zaun. Beyond that, the only thing of note is an old bookshelf filled with dusty volumes and scrolls.

To pass the time until your next mission, you decide to skim through some of these old texts. Most of them turn out to be logs of past Harrowings and descriptions of notable entities within the Black Mist: The Deathsinger, the Shadow of War, and the Chain Warden, to name a few.

One scroll stands out to you, looking slightly older than the others. You open the scroll to find no text, but instead a single depiction of a peculiar-looking Sentinel weapon. Though faded, something about the image stands out to you as significant…

Lucian: “Doin’ some homework, Rookie?”

“WOAH! Don’t scare me like that!”

“Just passing the time, sir.”

Lucian response 1: “Heh.  You’ve still got a lot to learn, Rook. Come on, everyone’s waitin’ for you.”

Lucian response 2: “Well, time’s up. Get to the map room. We’ve got our next assignment.”

You follow Lucian to the map room, where the Sentinels linger stand waiting for your arrival.

Graves: “About time.”

Gwen: “Good morning, Rookie! I trust you’re ready to depart?”

Senna: “He’ll have to be. Our next stop is the Kumungu Jungle. This Mist there is behaving strangely, but there’s a good chance we’ll find a fetter there either way.”

Riven: “I don’t get it. Last I heard, there are barely even any settlements in Kumungu. Noxus has been trying for years to establish a foothold there, but the jungle is just too hostile. How can a fetter wind up there?”

Jayce: “I remember hearing something about a ‘hidden tribe’ attacking Piltovan mining equipment in the jungle lately, so maybe they have something to do with it?”

Lucian: “Doesn’t matter. We’ve got our orders, Sentinels, and we can’t let what happened in Bilgewater happen again. Rookie, let’s get moving before Viego or any of his lackeys get their hands on that fetter.”

“Yessir!”

“Next stop: Kumungu!”

You raise the Wayfinder and let its light wash over you. When the light recedes, you find yourself surrounded by grumbling ruins covered in moss and vines. Barely anything remains of the Sentinel outpost, as it seems to have been mostly reclaimed by the jungle.

Gwen: “Ah… I suppose we won’t be finding any Sentinel allies in this place, then.”

Diana: “I sense powerful magics at work here…”

Shen: “Indeed. As Ionia and Targon are abundant in spiritual and celestial magics, this place brims with the energy of elemental magic. This wild, untamed power must not be taken lightly.”

Graves: “I didn’t understand a word of what you just said, but I sure as hell don’t see any ghosts here.”

Olaf: “Indeed! I sense nothing amiss!”

Riven: “That canopy is so thick that I can barely make out anything in our surroundings. How are we supposed to find the fetter in all this?”

Senna: “I don’t like it, but… It might be better to fan out in comb the area. We’ll split up into groups and head off in different directions. Shen, you go with Olaf and explore north. Diana, Riven, Vayne, you three head south. Graves and Jayce will head east, while Lucian and I head west.”

“Uh, aren’t you forgetting someone?”

“What about me?”

“What about Gwen?”

Senna: “Rookie, you stay here with Gwen. The last thing we want is you and that Wayfinder getting lost in the jungle. Don’t worry, the Hallowed Mist should keep you safe if anything DOES show up, and you’ve still got that Relicstone fragment I gave you.”

Gwen: “Don’t fret Rookie! I’m sure we’ll have a delightful time together!”

Vayne: “What if one of us DOES find something?”

Senna: “Use your weapons to fire a beacon into the air. Everyone, keep your eyes on the sky, and try not to go too far. We’ll meet back up in two hours to debrief.”

With that, you watch as the Sentinels all make their way into the surrounding jungles, leaving you and Gwen by yourselves.

Ixtal Part II

You and Gwen have a seat in the ruins of the Sentinel outpost and chat the time away, mostly discussing mundane things like hobbies or interests. Things are pleasant at first, but you soon find yourself getting thirsty from all the talking.

“I think I need a drink.”

“We should have packed some water.”

Gwen: “Oh dear. You’re thirsty? I’ve never been thirsty before, but I understand that it’s an unpleasant sensation. I’d serve you some tea, but…”

Gwen stands up suddenly and looks around.

Gwen: “Well, I suppose we’ll just have to find some water then! There must be a stream or lake nearby, surely.”

“Shouldn’t we wait for the others to get back?”

“Good idea. I’ll grab a quick drink and be right back.”

Gwen response 1: “Not to fret, we shan’t be gone long! Let’s see… I think I hear the faint sound of running water coming from this direction.”

Gwen response 2: “Quite right! We mustn’t keep the others waiting, after-all.”

You follow Gwen through the jungle, making your way north-east from the outpost ruins. The two of you arrive at the base of a small stream, where you quickly kneel down and start to drink. As you do, you feel a pair of eyes on you. The hairs on your neck stand up, but before you can even look around…

Gwen: “Rookie, look out!”

Something suddenly pounces onto your back, pinning you to the ground.

???: “I have you now!”

In an instant, Hallowed needles whiz through the air, but your assailant quickly deflects them with a large dagger.

Gwen: “Bad kitty! Release Rookie now, please!”

“I think there’s been some kind of mistake!”

“I swear I don’t taste very good!”

Rengar: “You think to deceive the great Rengar? Grrr… It is faint, but I smell that same wretched stench upon you, child. The scent of undeath. You know of the monsters stalking my jungles, do you not?”

Gwen: “Oh dear! Mister Kitty, I’m afraid you have the wrong idea! Rookie and myself are Sentinels; we hunt those nasty creatures!”

Rengar: “Ha! Hunt them? You cannot hunt them! I have tried. Fangs. Claws. Blades. The beasts do not fall.”

“You just need the right tools for the job.”

“Uh, we can teach you how to hunt them, if you’ll let us go.”

Rengar seems to mull the matter over for a moment before climbing off of you. You slowly climb to your feet as Gwen rushes to your side, though Rengar looks ready to pounce again at a moment’s notice.

Rengar: “Fine then. Tell me how kill the beasts that cannot be killed!”

Just then, an inhuman scream sounds out from the jungle behind you. You, Gwen and Rengar all turn to see a pack of undead beasts emerging from the trees, their ephemeral eyes focused on Rengar.

Gwen: “Oh dear, where did they come from?”

Rengar: “Hrrng… Perfect. Now, you can demonstrate with action! Show me how to hunt these beasts, humans!”

Gwen: “Rookie, you just stay back! I’ll take care of this!”

Gwen rushes into the fray as the undead beasts charge in kind, leaving you with little choice but to watch…

Ixtal Part III

The beasts cry out as Gwen cuts them apart with scissors, dispelling the Black Mist from their bodies. Her movements are elegant and precise, and within moments she had dispatched the undead beasts around her.

Rengar: “So it is true… But how?”

“Only certain kinds of magic can hurt the undead.”

“We told you: we’re Sentinels. This is what we do.”

Rengar response 1: “Magic… Grr… So be it. If I must learn this magic to hunt the dead, then I shall!”

Rengar response 2: “I see… Then there is little choice. Teach me your ways, Sentinels!”

Gwen: “Oh my! You want to become a Sentinel, Mr. Kitty? Well, we’ll need to speak with our friends about it, but I’m sure they’d welcome you!”

“We could use all the help we can get.”

“Honestly, you’re not the strangest person to join our group.”

Rengar: “So I need the approval of your pack? Fine! Tell me where I may find them.”

You quickly explain the situation to Rengar, detailing everything as precisely as you can.

Rengar: “Hmm… So this ‘Ruined King’ seeks these ‘fetters,’ and he commands the Black Mist? Then to stop the undead, we need only hunt him, yes?”

Gwen: “Quite right, but the more fetters he gets, the stronger he seems to become! That’s why need to find the fetters first!”

Rengar: “I understand! If all that you say is true, then I may know where you will find this fetter.”

“Seriously!?”

“Really? Where?”

Rengar: “The Mist is thick in Kiilash territory… That means the fetter you seek is likely in my home village. Come with me!”

Rengar turns and sprints into the jungle, expecting you to follow. You and Gwen exchange an uncertain look, but with no immediate way to contact your allies, you have little choice but to follow Rengar into the jungle.

Gwen: “I do hope Senna won’t be too cross with us, but surely she would want us to find the fetter before that awful king!”

With Rengar as your guide, you make your way deeper into the jungles. You and Gwen barely manage to keep up, but the Black Mist does indeed grow thicker the further in you go. The screams of wraiths grow louder as well, but Gwen summons a shroud of Hallowed Mist to keep both you and Rengar safe. Even so, you once again feel as though something is watching you from the darkness, keeping just out of sight.

For a moment, you think you hear a faint rattling, but it stops almost as soon as it begins. You dismiss it as your imagination and head deeper still, determined to recover the fetter before the Ruined King arrives.

Ixtal Part IV

You arrive in a village hidden amongst the trees, though you quickly find the place empty and abandoned.

“This is your home, Rengar?”

“Where is everyone?”

Rengar: “I have not been here in many moons. I left the Kiilash behind me long ago and had not planned to return… I do not know what became of them, but it not my concern.”

Gwen: “That’s awful, Mr. Kitty! I haven’t been home in a long time either, but I know I would be quite sad to see it such a state…”

Rengar: “Hmph. It does not matter. Let us claim our trophy and leave before-!”

Suddenly, Rengar grabs you and tosses you aside. A dark shape descends from the tree tops and pounces on Rengar. Metal rings out against metal as the hunter struggles against an older-looking Kiilash with a long gash down his torso. Upon further inspection, you realize that Rengar’s assailant is undead.

???: “So, you finally return! It seems I was right to wait for you here, Rengar!”

Rengar: “Impossible! You died! I killed you myself, Ponjaf!”

Ponjaf: “Yes, I remember, whelp! You dared to call ME a coward, then strike when I was unarmed! Now, I will claim your head as retribution, just as I did the rest of the pack!”

Rengar: “You aim to kill ME? You haven’t the fangs for it!”

The two Kiilash roar and engage each other in a deadly flurry of blades, fangs and claws. Their savagery is at once astonishing and captivating, and you find yourself unable to peel your eyes away.

Gwen: “Oh dear! What should we do? I want to help Mr. Kitty, but the fetter-”

Before Gwen can finish her thought, you find yourself being yanked back suddenly. The sight of the battle grows more and more distant as you are pulled through branches and bramble before unceremoniously falling onto the ground. A chill runs down your spine as an ominous figure looms over you, illuminated by the glow of his lantern.

Thresh: “My, so young… The Sentinels really have fallen from grace, haven’t they?”

“Thresh…”

“The Chain Warden…”

Thresh: “Ah, so you’ve heard of me? Well, no matter. On your feet, child, for we have much to discuss.”

You hurriedly scramble to your feet and prepare to run, only for several bony spires to erupt around you. Everywhere you look, any possible escape route is cut off by a wall of spectral energy.

Thresh: “Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. But don’t worry… I won’t take your soul. Yet.”

Thresh chuckles and reaches around behind him, pulling from his belt an ornate locket.

Thresh: “I presume you’re looking for this?”

“The fetter!”

“What is that?”

Thresh response 1: “Yes… A fragment of the queen’s soul. It can be yours… For a price.”

Thresh response 2: “Don’t play coy. You know what this is. I’m willing to give it to you… For a price.”

“What do you want?”

“Not interested!”

Thresh: “Oh come now, no need to be so apprehensive. I’ve been watching you closely, Sentinel. Your journey has taken you around Runeterra, and you’ve certain built quite the little army for yourselves, but you know deep down: you are losing this battle.”

You fall silent as Thresh toys with the locket in his hand. He seems to take pleasure in your discomfort.

Thresh: “That’s right. You have lost nearly every battle and acquired only a single fetter for your efforts. In time, the king will storm your headquarters and render that small victory moot. He could do so at any time, really, but he is… Preoccupied at the moment.”

Thresh makes a noise of audible disgust, but refuses to elaborate.

Thresh: “My point is, young Sentinel, that you are running out of time. Luckily for you, I have come to offer you my most humble assistance. Not only will I give you the fetter, but I can even tell you of a means to turn the tides in your favor: a secret weapon to aid you in the battle ahead.”

“What do you want?”

“What’s your angle here?”

Thresh: “What I want is simple, young Sentinel: I want something that was taken from me, and you are going to help me get it back.”

Ixtal Part V

Thresh’s face contorts into a wicked smile as he awaits your answer.

“What do you mean?”

“What did you lose?”

Thresh: “Oh, you needn’t fret the specifics. All I need you to do is answer a very simple question for me: is it true that your commanding officer is also a fetter? That she harbors a piece of the queen’s soul within her?”

Something deep inside you tells you not to answer, to not confirm Thresh’s suspicions. However…

Thresh: “It’s a simple question, child. A simple yes or no, and I’ll give you all that you need to turn the tides in your favor. The locket. The secret weapon… Just be honest, because I WILL know if you are lying.”

You think back to every encounter you’ve had with the Ruined King thus-far. Demacia, Ionia, Bilgewater… Every time you and your allies have fought Viego, you were completely overwhelmed by his control over undeath and those he bends to his will. You begrudgingly accept that the odds are stacked against you, and you need some manner of miracle to win this battle. If Thresh can offer you even a small advantage…

“Yes, it’s true. Senna is a fetter.”

“Senna has a fragment of the queen’s soul inside of her.”

Thresh: “As I thought… Well then, a deal is a deal.”

Thresh reaches out his hand and surrenders the locket. You snatch it up quickly and place it in your pocket, though your hastiness only amuses Thresh further.

Thresh: “Now then, listen closely: in the Sands of Shurima, there exists a very old and very powerful Sentinel weapon. Legends claim it has the power to restore the dead to life, if certain… Conditions are met. Not undeath, but proper resurrection.”

“Does such a Relic truly exist?”

“This isn’t a lie, is it?”

Thresh: “Who can say? Either way… You won’t have the opportunity to find out!”

Thresh lashes out with his chains, binding you around your neck. You gasp desperately for air as the Chain Warden pulls you closer, cackling madly.

“You promised!”

“We had a deal!”

Thresh: “Indeed, and I kept my end of the bargain. I gave you the fetter and told you of the Shuriman Relic. I never said I would let you leave this place with either!”

You feel your vision blur as Thresh strangles you with your chains. In desperation, you reach into your pocket and feel your fingers brush against something smooth.

Thresh: “Oh, the eternity we shall spend together!”

You pull out the Relicstone fragment Senna gave you and raise it high. Thresh cries out as the light pulses outward, releasing you from your chains. You turn around to see that the spectral walls barring your path have also vanished. You sprint back the way you came as fast as you can, though Thresh’s ominous laughter echoes behind you.

Thresh: “There is no escape!”

As you run, you notice several ghastly figures daring through the jungle above and around you. They seem to be toying with you, even mocking your efforts to reach your allies in the village. Then, one of them lunges from the side, jaws opened wide in preparation to bite into your flesh.

Rengar: “Slow down!”

A bola flies from the shadows and wraps around your assailant. The kiilash ghost cries out in anger as it struggles against its bindings, to no avail.

Gwen: “Rookie! Are you quite alright? We came as fast we could!”

“Gwen! You have no idea how happy I am to see you!”

“Rengar! What happened to Ponjaf?”

Gwen (if option 1 is picked): “Oh, I’m quite pleased to see you too! But nevermind that! We must escape from here, quickly!”

Rengar (if option 2 is picked): “Your companion drove him away with her ‘Hallowed Mist.’ Even if death, he is a coward!”

The other kiilash begin to surround you and draw their weapons, but as you and your companions prepare for a fight, an explosion of light blows several of the spectral hunters away. Confused, the kiilash turn to the source of this blast, only to find themselves crushed under the weight of a massive glowing hammer.

Jayce: “Energize!”

Graves: “Ya gotta call out those dumb moves every time!?”

Graves unloads another blast from his gun, blowing away the last of the kiilash wraiths. Then, he turns his weapon on Rengar.

“Wait, don’t shoot!”

“Woah, Rengar’s a friend!”

Graves: “Beg your pardon?”

Rengar: “So these are your fellow Sentinels… I request permission to join your pack!”

Gwen: “Everyone, perhaps we should save explanations until we rendezvous with the others!”

Jayce: “Sounds like a plan!”

You hurry back to the outpost ruins, leaving the cries of wraiths far behind you. By the time you arrive, the other Sentinels have already returned.

Lucian: “Rookie! Gwen! Where the hell were you?”

Vayne: “We were just to head out again looking for you. I hope you have a good reason for abandoning your post.”

“We found the fetter.”

“We made a new ally.”

You briefly recap everything that had happened to the Sentinels, up until the encounter with Thresh.

“…So then I was dragged away by wraiths and found the fetter with the ghosts of the kiilash.”

“I saw a wraith carrying the fetter away and chased after it. I narrowly managed to catch it.”

You hold up the locket Thresh gave you, which resonates with the light inside Gwen and Senna.

Senna: “Well I’ll be… I can’t say I approve of you abandoning your post, but I guess a victory is a victory. Fire up the Wayfinder, Rookie, and let’s get back to base.”

You return to Sentinel headquarters feeling a strong sense of unease. You feel bad for lying, but you also feel hesitant to admit having made a bargain with Thresh. Your thoughts are heavy until Gwen catches your attention, emerging from the Sentinel vaults.

Gwen: “Attention everyone! After much hassle and grooming, I present to you, Sentinel Ki- I mean, Sentinel Rengar!”

Rengar: “Let the hunt begin! I will claim the Ruined King’s head for my wall!”

Olaf: “Oh, I like this one!”

Senna: “Let’s take some time to rest and recover, Sentinels! After that, it’s back to work as normal!”

[infinite-xerath]

Runeterra Retcons: Ruination Episode (Ixtal)

Ixtal Part I

You wander through the Sentinel vaults alone, looking over ancient artifacts the Sentinels have gathered over the years. Not much stands out of interest, save for the uncarved Relictsone chunks and the sole fetter you acquired in Zaun. Beyond that, the only thing of note is an old bookshelf filled with dusty volumes and scrolls.

To pass the time until your next mission, you decide to skim through some of these old texts. Most of them turn out to be logs of past Harrowings and descriptions of notable entities within the Black Mist: The Deathsinger, the Shadow of War, and the Chain Warden, to name a few.

One scroll stands out to you, looking slightly older than the others. You open the scroll to find no text, but instead a single depiction of a peculiar-looking Sentinel weapon. Though faded, something about the image stands out to you as significant…

Lucian: “Doin’ some homework, Rookie?”

“WOAH! Don’t scare me like that!”

“Just passing the time, sir.”

Lucian response 1: “Heh.  You’ve still got a lot to learn, Rook. Come on, everyone’s waitin’ for you.”

Lucian response 2: “Well, time’s up. Get to the map room. We’ve got our next assignment.”

You follow Lucian to the map room, where the Sentinels linger stand waiting for your arrival.

Graves: “About time.”

Gwen: “Good morning, Rookie! I trust you’re ready to depart?”

Senna: “He’ll have to be. Our next stop is the Kumungu Jungle. This Mist there is behaving strangely, but there’s a good chance we’ll find a fetter there either way.”

Riven: “I don’t get it. Last I heard, there are barely even any settlements in Kumungu. Noxus has been trying for years to establish a foothold there, but the jungle is just too hostile. How can a fetter wind up there?”

Jayce: “I remember hearing something about a ‘hidden tribe’ attacking Piltovan mining equipment in the jungle lately, so maybe they have something to do with it?”

Lucian: “Doesn’t matter. We’ve got our orders, Sentinels, and we can’t let what happened in Bilgewater happen again. Rookie, let’s get moving before Viego or any of his lackeys get their hands on that fetter.”

“Yessir!”

“Next stop: Kumungu!”

You raise the Wayfinder and let its light wash over you. When the light recedes, you find yourself surrounded by grumbling ruins covered in moss and vines. Barely anything remains of the Sentinel outpost, as it seems to have been mostly reclaimed by the jungle.

Gwen: “Ah… I suppose we won’t be finding any Sentinel allies in this place, then.”

Diana: “I sense powerful magics at work here…”

Shen: “Indeed. As Ionia and Targon are abundant in spiritual and celestial magics, this place brims with the energy of elemental magic. This wild, untamed power must not be taken lightly.”

Graves: “I didn’t understand a word of what you just said, but I sure as hell don’t see any ghosts here.”

Olaf: “Indeed! I sense nothing amiss!”

Riven: “That canopy is so thick that I can barely make out anything in our surroundings. How are we supposed to find the fetter in all this?”

Senna: “I don’t like it, but… It might be better to fan out in comb the area. We’ll split up into groups and head off in different directions. Shen, you go with Olaf and explore north. Diana, Riven, Vayne, you three head south. Graves and Jayce will head east, while Lucian and I head west.”

“Uh, aren’t you forgetting someone?”

“What about me?”

“What about Gwen?”

Senna: “Rookie, you stay here with Gwen. The last thing we want is you and that Wayfinder getting lost in the jungle. Don’t worry, the Hallowed Mist should keep you safe if anything DOES show up, and you’ve still got that Relicstone fragment I gave you.”

Gwen: “Don’t fret Rookie! I’m sure we’ll have a delightful time together!”

Vayne: “What if one of us DOES find something?”

Senna: “Use your weapons to fire a beacon into the air. Everyone, keep your eyes on the sky, and try not to go too far. We’ll meet back up in two hours to debrief.”

With that, you watch as the Sentinels all make their way into the surrounding jungles, leaving you and Gwen by yourselves.

Ixtal Part II

You and Gwen have a seat in the ruins of the Sentinel outpost and chat the time away, mostly discussing mundane things like hobbies or interests. Things are pleasant at first, but you soon find yourself getting thirsty from all the talking.

“I think I need a drink.”

“We should have packed some water.”

Gwen: “Oh dear. You’re thirsty? I’ve never been thirsty before, but I understand that it’s an unpleasant sensation. I’d serve you some tea, but…”

Gwen stands up suddenly and looks around.

Gwen: “Well, I suppose we’ll just have to find some water then! There must be a stream or lake nearby, surely.”

“Shouldn’t we wait for the others to get back?”

“Good idea. I’ll grab a quick drink and be right back.”

Gwen response 1: “Not to fret, we shan’t be gone long! Let’s see… I think I hear the faint sound of running water coming from this direction.”

Gwen response 2: “Quite right! We mustn’t keep the others waiting, after-all.”

You follow Gwen through the jungle, making your way north-east from the outpost ruins. The two of you arrive at the base of a small stream, where you quickly kneel down and start to drink. As you do, you feel a pair of eyes on you. The hairs on your neck stand up, but before you can even look around…

Gwen: “Rookie, look out!”

Something suddenly pounces onto your back, pinning you to the ground.

???: “I have you now!”

In an instant, Hallowed needles whiz through the air, but your assailant quickly deflects them with a large dagger.

Gwen: “Bad kitty! Release Rookie now, please!”

“I think there’s been some kind of mistake!”

“I swear I don’t taste very good!”

Rengar: “You think to deceive the great Rengar? Grrr… It is faint, but I smell that same wretched stench upon you, child. The scent of undeath. You know of the monsters stalking my jungles, do you not?”

Gwen: “Oh dear! Mister Kitty, I’m afraid you have the wrong idea! Rookie and myself are Sentinels; we hunt those nasty creatures!”

Rengar: “Ha! Hunt them? You cannot hunt them! I have tried. Fangs. Claws. Blades. The beasts do not fall.”

“You just need the right tools for the job.”

“Uh, we can teach you how to hunt them, if you’ll let us go.”

Rengar seems to mull the matter over for a moment before climbing off of you. You slowly climb to your feet as Gwen rushes to your side, though Rengar looks ready to pounce again at a moment’s notice.

Rengar: “Fine then. Tell me how kill the beasts that cannot be killed!”

Just then, an inhuman scream sounds out from the jungle behind you. You, Gwen and Rengar all turn to see a pack of undead beasts emerging from the trees, their ephemeral eyes focused on Rengar.

Gwen: “Oh dear, where did they come from?”

Rengar: “Hrrng… Perfect. Now, you can demonstrate with action! Show me how to hunt these beasts, humans!”

Gwen: “Rookie, you just stay back! I’ll take care of this!”

Gwen rushes into the fray as the undead beasts charge in kind, leaving you with little choice but to watch…

Ixtal Part III

The beasts cry out as Gwen cuts them apart with scissors, dispelling the Black Mist from their bodies. Her movements are elegant and precise, and within moments she had dispatched the undead beasts around her.

Rengar: “So it is true… But how?”

“Only certain kinds of magic can hurt the undead.”

“We told you: we’re Sentinels. This is what we do.”

Rengar response 1: “Magic… Grr… So be it. If I must learn this magic to hunt the dead, then I shall!”

Rengar response 2: “I see… Then there is little choice. Teach me your ways, Sentinels!”

Gwen: “Oh my! You want to become a Sentinel, Mr. Kitty? Well, we’ll need to speak with our friends about it, but I’m sure they’d welcome you!”

“We could use all the help we can get.”

“Honestly, you’re not the strangest person to join our group.”

Rengar: “So I need the approval of your pack? Fine! Tell me where I may find them.”

You quickly explain the situation to Rengar, detailing everything as precisely as you can.

Rengar: “Hmm… So this ‘Ruined King’ seeks these ‘fetters,’ and he commands the Black Mist? Then to stop the undead, we need only hunt him, yes?”

Gwen: “Quite right, but the more fetters he gets, the stronger he seems to become! That’s why need to find the fetters first!”

Rengar: “I understand! If all that you say is true, then I may know where you will find this fetter.”

“Seriously!?”

“Really? Where?”

Rengar: “The Mist is thick in Kiilash territory… That means the fetter you seek is likely in my home village. Come with me!”

Rengar turns and sprints into the jungle, expecting you to follow. You and Gwen exchange an uncertain look, but with no immediate way to contact your allies, you have little choice but to follow Rengar into the jungle.

Gwen: “I do hope Senna won’t be too cross with us, but surely she would want us to find the fetter before that awful king!”

With Rengar as your guide, you make your way deeper into the jungles. You and Gwen barely manage to keep up, but the Black Mist does indeed grow thicker the further in you go. The screams of wraiths grow louder as well, but Gwen summons a shroud of Hallowed Mist to keep both you and Rengar safe. Even so, you once again feel as though something is watching you from the darkness, keeping just out of sight.

For a moment, you think you hear a faint rattling, but it stops almost as soon as it begins. You dismiss it as your imagination and head deeper still, determined to recover the fetter before the Ruined King arrives.

Ixtal Part IV

You arrive in a village hidden amongst the trees, though you quickly find the place empty and abandoned.

“This is your home, Rengar?”

“Where is everyone?”

Rengar: “I have not been here in many moons. I left the Kiilash behind me long ago and had not planned to return… I do not know what became of them, but it not my concern.”

Gwen: “That’s awful, Mr. Kitty! I haven’t been home in a long time either, but I know I would be quite sad to see it such a state…”

Rengar: “Hmph. It does not matter. Let us claim our trophy and leave before-!”

Suddenly, Rengar grabs you and tosses you aside. A dark shape descends from the tree tops and pounces on Rengar. Metal rings out against metal as the hunter struggles against an older-looking Kiilash with a long gash down his torso. Upon further inspection, you realize that Rengar’s assailant is undead.

???: “So, you finally return! It seems I was right to wait for you here, Rengar!”

Rengar: “Impossible! You died! I killed you myself, Ponjaf!”

Ponjaf: “Yes, I remember, whelp! You dared to call ME a coward, then strike when I was unarmed! Now, I will claim your head as retribution, just as I did the rest of the pack!”

Rengar: “You aim to kill ME? You haven’t the fangs for it!”

The two Kiilash roar and engage each other in a deadly flurry of blades, fangs and claws. Their savagery is at once astonishing and captivating, and you find yourself unable to peel your eyes away.

Gwen: “Oh dear! What should we do? I want to help Mr. Kitty, but the fetter-”

Before Gwen can finish her thought, you find yourself being yanked back suddenly. The sight of the battle grows more and more distant as you are pulled through branches and bramble before unceremoniously falling onto the ground. A chill runs down your spine as an ominous figure looms over you, illuminated by the glow of his lantern.

Thresh: “My, so young… The Sentinels really have fallen from grace, haven’t they?”

“Thresh…”

“The Chain Warden…”

Thresh: “Ah, so you’ve heard of me? Well, no matter. On your feet, child, for we have much to discuss.”

You hurriedly scramble to your feet and prepare to run, only for several bony spires to erupt around you. Everywhere you look, any possible escape route is cut off by a wall of spectral energy.

Thresh: “Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. But don’t worry… I won’t take your soul. Yet.”

Thresh chuckles and reaches around behind him, pulling from his belt an ornate locket.

Thresh: “I presume you’re looking for this?”

“The fetter!”

“What is that?”

Thresh response 1: “Yes… A fragment of the queen’s soul. It can be yours… For a price.”

Thresh response 2: “Don’t play coy. You know what this is. I’m willing to give it to you… For a price.”

“What do you want?”

“Not interested!”

Thresh: “Oh come now, no need to be so apprehensive. I’ve been watching you closely, Sentinel. Your journey has taken you around Runeterra, and you’ve certain built quite the little army for yourselves, but you know deep down: you are losing this battle.”

You fall silent as Thresh toys with the locket in his hand. He seems to take pleasure in your discomfort.

Thresh: “That’s right. You have lost nearly every battle and acquired only a single fetter for your efforts. In time, the king will storm your headquarters and render that small victory moot. He could do so at any time, really, but he is… Preoccupied at the moment.”

Thresh makes a noise of audible disgust, but refuses to elaborate.

Thresh: “My point is, young Sentinel, that you are running out of time. Luckily for you, I have come to offer you my most humble assistance. Not only will I give you the fetter, but I can even tell you of a means to turn the tides in your favor: a secret weapon to aid you in the battle ahead.”

“What do you want?”

“What’s your angle here?”

Thresh: “What I want is simple, young Sentinel: I want something that was taken from me, and you are going to help me get it back.”

Ixtal Part V

Thresh’s face contorts into a wicked smile as he awaits your answer.

“What do you mean?”

“What did you lose?”

Thresh: “Oh, you needn’t fret the specifics. All I need you to do is answer a very simple question for me: is it true that your commanding officer is also a fetter? That she harbors a piece of the queen’s soul within her?”

Something deep inside you tells you not to answer, to not confirm Thresh’s suspicions. However…

Thresh: “It’s a simple question, child. A simple yes or no, and I’ll give you all that you need to turn the tides in your favor. The locket. The secret weapon… Just be honest, because I WILL know if you are lying.”

You think back to every encounter you’ve had with the Ruined King thus-far. Demacia, Ionia, Bilgewater… Every time you and your allies have fought Viego, you were completely overwhelmed by his control over undeath and those he bends to his will. You begrudgingly accept that the odds are stacked against you, and you need some manner of miracle to win this battle. If Thresh can offer you even a small advantage…

“Yes, it’s true. Senna is a fetter.”

“Senna has a fragment of the queen’s soul inside of her.”

Thresh: “As I thought… Well then, a deal is a deal.”

Thresh reaches out his hand and surrenders the locket. You snatch it up quickly and place it in your pocket, though your hastiness only amuses Thresh further.

Thresh: “Now then, listen closely: in the Sands of Shurima, there exists a very old and very powerful Sentinel weapon. Legends claim it has the power to restore the dead to life, if certain… Conditions are met. Not undeath, but proper resurrection.”

“Does such a Relic truly exist?”

“This isn’t a lie, is it?”

Thresh: “Who can say? Either way… You won’t have the opportunity to find out!”

Thresh lashes out with his chains, binding you around your neck. You gasp desperately for air as the Chain Warden pulls you closer, cackling madly.

“You promised!”

“We had a deal!”

Thresh: “Indeed, and I kept my end of the bargain. I gave you the fetter and told you of the Shuriman Relic. I never said I would let you leave this place with either!”

You feel your vision blur as Thresh strangles you with your chains. In desperation, you reach into your pocket and feel your fingers brush against something smooth.

Thresh: “Oh, the eternity we shall spend together!”

You pull out the Relicstone fragment Senna gave you and raise it high. Thresh cries out as the light pulses outward, releasing you from your chains. You turn around to see that the spectral walls barring your path have also vanished. You sprint back the way you came as fast as you can, though Thresh’s ominous laughter echoes behind you.

Thresh: “There is no escape!”

As you run, you notice several ghastly figures daring through the jungle above and around you. They seem to be toying with you, even mocking your efforts to reach your allies in the village. Then, one of them lunges from the side, jaws opened wide in preparation to bite into your flesh.

Rengar: “Slow down!”

A bola flies from the shadows and wraps around your assailant. The kiilash ghost cries out in anger as it struggles against its bindings, to no avail.

Gwen: “Rookie! Are you quite alright? We came as fast we could!”

“Gwen! You have no idea how happy I am to see you!”

“Rengar! What happened to Ponjaf?”

Gwen (if option 1 is picked): “Oh, I’m quite pleased to see you too! But nevermind that! We must escape from here, quickly!”

Rengar (if option 2 is picked): “Your companion drove him away with her ‘Hallowed Mist.’ Even if death, he is a coward!”

The other kiilash begin to surround you and draw their weapons, but as you and your companions prepare for a fight, an explosion of light blows several of the spectral hunters away. Confused, the kiilash turn to the source of this blast, only to find themselves crushed under the weight of a massive glowing hammer.

Jayce: “Energize!”

Graves: “Ya gotta call out those dumb moves every time!?”

Graves unloads another blast from his gun, blowing away the last of the kiilash wraiths. Then, he turns his weapon on Rengar.

“Wait, don’t shoot!”

“Woah, Rengar’s a friend!”

Graves: “Beg your pardon?”

Rengar: “So these are your fellow Sentinels… I request permission to join your pack!”

Gwen: “Everyone, perhaps we should save explanations until we rendezvous with the others!”

Jayce: “Sounds like a plan!”

You hurry back to the outpost ruins, leaving the cries of wraiths far behind you. By the time you arrive, the other Sentinels have already returned.

Lucian: “Rookie! Gwen! Where the hell were you?”

Vayne: “We were just to head out again looking for you. I hope you have a good reason for abandoning your post.”

“We found the fetter.”

“We made a new ally.”

You briefly recap everything that had happened to the Sentinels, up until the encounter with Thresh.

“…So then I was dragged away by wraiths and found the fetter with the ghosts of the kiilash.”

“I saw a wraith carrying the fetter away and chased after it. I narrowly managed to catch it.”

You hold up the locket Thresh gave you, which resonates with the light inside Gwen and Senna.

Senna: “Well I’ll be… I can’t say I approve of you abandoning your post, but I guess a victory is a victory. Fire up the Wayfinder, Rookie, and let’s get back to base.”

You return to Sentinel headquarters feeling a strong sense of unease. You feel bad for lying, but you also feel hesitant to admit having made a bargain with Thresh. Your thoughts are heavy until Gwen catches your attention, emerging from the Sentinel vaults.

Gwen: “Attention everyone! After much hassle and grooming, I present to you, Sentinel Ki- I mean, Sentinel Rengar!”

Rengar: “Let the hunt begin! I will claim the Ruined King’s head for my wall!”

Olaf: “Oh, I like this one!”

Senna: “Let’s take some time to rest and recover, Sentinels! After that, it’s back to work as normal!”

[poolwiseliving]

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[writingismyhappytime]

Draco Malfoy and the Christmas Kiss

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Warnings: Language, young romance

A/N: This is five thousand words past what it seriously should be.

Part 1, Part 2

Holidays are your favorite. You enjoy the cold weather, the bundling up in coats and sweaters and when it begins to snow. You love the chocolate drinks and sweets that everyone makes, how the time of year seems to bring everyone together. There's Christmas trees and presents, and going home to see your family.

Except this year.

This year blows.

You're very much displeased to find yourself at Malfoy manor this year for Christmas, as the Malfoy's are hosting a large event in order to show off their wealth, you've decided. Being a pure blood and influential family, of course your family is attending and staying for several days despite the fact you'd stated you'd rather go back to school then step on foot in the horrid place.

Well, you have not returned to school.

The manor is impressive, there is no denying that. The gravel driveway is wide with hedges curving alongside it. Halfway you have to stop at a pair of wrought-iron gates, magicked to only permit individuals who are invited,  and to form into some awful face and demand the purpose of anyone else who wishes to enter. You're a little impressed, you wouldn't mind having something like that on your bedroom door at home.

The manor itself is perhaps your favorite. It seemed to grow out of the darkness at the end of the straight drive, lights inside every diamond-paned windows on the lower level. You can see that it's surrounded by an elaborate gardens, and you could hear a fountain when you appeared.

When your family had approached the front door, it had opened on its own, revealing a large hallway that was dimly lit, but of course stylishly decorated with a beautiful carpet covering most of the stone floor. The portraits hanging there unsettle you, however, with their serious faces, blonde hair letting you know they're the past owners, previous Malfoy's.

Your mother seems to know exactly where to go as you and your father trail after her, heading straight down the entrance way to where you can see a bronze-handled door. It opens as she nears, and a bubble of voices are finally audible.

You sigh.

You're not going to enjoy this vacation as much as you had hoped. You're nervous, you have yet to tell your parents of the fact you and Fred Weasley have something, that you might be dating, and you'll just die if Malfoy even utters a word about it! You're not sure how they're going to react, despite the fact he's as pure blooded as you are. Still, the fact his family isn't wealthy might be a problem, although your parents aren't nearly as close minded as Draco's.

You bite your lower lip as you enter the drawing room, seeing other guests already crowding about. Your mother makes a happy sound as she finds Narcissa Malfoy, the two hurrying towards each other so that they can embrace like school girls.

You hear your father sigh.

Perhaps this visit was more of your mothers idea then his own. You glance up at him, seeming the same polite expression on his face as yours, but neither of you are where you want to be. You glance around at the drawing room, finding it a tad large for your taste.

The ceilings are extremely high, and large crystal chandeliers dangle from gold chains. There's an overly long table towards the ornate marble fireplace, a gilded mirror above it to reflect the room. The walls are a dark purple, and otherwise the room has the normal furniture one would expect. You suppose the Malfoy's are used to receiving large groups of people, so perhaps the size to them is normal, but you find it rather over the top.

You're sure the rest of their manor is no different.

You spot Draco instantly, standing at his fathers side, both of them talking to some wizards gathered in front of them. He looks rather nice, dressed in tailored black clothing instead of school robes, his blonde hair brushed to the side; you're glad he doesn't slick it down anymore. His father stands proudly beside him, just a little taller now,  holding his cane at his side like he always does.

"Oh, I'm so glad you could come, Helena!" Narcissa Malfoy gushes to her best friend from school, the two women still clasping hands as they come to where you and your father stand, trying to stay out of the way of the other guests. "Hello, Nicolas, (Y/N)."

"Narcissa," your father says with a smile. "You look wonderful tonight."

She smiles, reaching forward to squeeze his hand. "Thank you! Oh, I'm just so happy you're all here."

Obviously.

You just smile at her, but your attention is behind her, on Draco. He's noticed your entrance, and he's glaring at you from across the room! You frown, narrowing your gaze as you lean a little to the right where you can see him better. Yes, he is indeed, glaring at you.

Well, so much for a pleasant holiday. You send him a nasty look before you turn your head sharply, shifting so you no longer have to look at him. You cross your arms, your eyes on your mother and his as they chatter. You and your father don't offer much to the conversation, your fathers hand coming around your shoulders to pull you absently to his side.

You're their only child, but both of your parents love and dote on you, you'll never question their feelings for you. Much like Draco, you stand to inherit a lot when they pass, and have always had their full attention whenever you wanted it, and even when you didn't. You're closer with your father more so then your mother, you seem to take after him more anyhow.

Your father was a Ravenclaw in school, a brilliant wizard and inventor now that apparently stole your mothers heart seventh year and has held it ever since. You'd always hoped you'd end up in Ravenclaw, but unfortunately, the sorting hat thought differently. You don't like being a Slytherin, you don't like the bad reputation they all seem to hold so highly, either.

You'd rather just be left alone.

"Oh, Lucius, there you are," Narcissa says, turning as she sees her husband in the corner of her eye. "Come say hello to my dearest friend. You remember Helena, yes?"

"Of course. Helena." Lucius gives her a polite smile, bowing his head respectively. "It's not been that long since school, but you don't look any different."

Your mother preens at the compliment; she's very vain, always concerned about her next gray hair or if her face was getting saggy. Your father always gave some demure answer, she could look like a potato but he would never say so; you know he loves her, in his quiet, soft-spoken way. You figure they work together well, your mother loud and friendly, your father quiet and brilliant.

"Thank you, Lucius," your mother replies, and her hand is already reaching for her husbands arm, pulling him into the conversation. "This is my husband, Nicolas. He was a Ravenclaw in school."

"Ah, yes. It explains why your daughter is so brilliant," Lucius says smoothly, his eyes coming to rest on your shorter stature. "My son Draco speaks highly of her, says she's the top of her class."

Right under Hermione Granger, you think, your cheeks turning a bright pink as they all look at you.

"Yes, and he doesn't of most people," Narcissa adds, furthering your embarrassment. What does Draco say about you to his parents? You look away, your eyes flicking to where he still stands with another group, his back to you. Are they just saying that, as parents do?

"I do believe her and Draco work on schoolwork together," your mother says after a moment, her voice thoughtful; you might have mentioned his name a time or two in your letters home, but you hadn't thought your mother read them all that closely. You're a little surprised, usually it's just you and your father corresponding back and forth. "I hear he's the seeker for his House team."

"Oh, yes, he's one of the best they've ever had," Narcissa brags instantly on her spoiled rotten son, and it's all you can do not to roll your eyes. Draco might be a seeker, but Harry potter is by far better then him, although if you say that out loud it's possible Narcissa Malfoy might turn you into a toad. She's nice so far, her blonde hair tied back, blue eyes sharp and calculating just like her sons. She's listening to more conversations then just your mothers, and you can tell she knows exactly what's going on in the room, that she knows exactly how to handle everyone, and she knows exactly what she's saying.

You don't like her much.

Plus, she constantly looks as if she has a bad smell beneath her nose.

Bother.

You'd rather be at home, curled up on your window-seat overlooking the lake, listening to your father reading the newspaper to your mother as she writes the latest gossip to her pure blood friends. You like seeing them like that, chatting back and forth in the drawing room, spending time together and giving each other those secret smiles they don't think you notice.

You're surprised you don't have more siblings.

"Oh look, the Nott's are here!" Narcissa says, clasping her hands. "Draco!"

You watch as she bustles off to where her son stands, going to tell him about the arrival of his childhood friend Theodore. You don't know him very well, you can't remember if you've ever even had a class with him.

"If you'll excuse me," Lucius gives you all a pleasant smile before stepping away, going to greet the elderly Mr. Nott and his son as they enter the drawing room.

"How many people are going to be here?" you ask uncomfortably after a moment, glad your father still has his hand almost protectively on your shoulder. "Mother, you said this would be a small gathering of friends for Christmas."

"Oh, did I?" Your mother shrugs her shoulders. "It seems Narcissa invited more people then I was aware of. Oh, don't look so sour, (Y/N), you're going to have a good time! You have your friends here from school."

Friends, right.

None of the people here are your friends.

Especially not Draco.

~~~~~~

It's all Draco Malfoy can do not to scream at the top of his lungs the moment you enter his drawing room. He was not aware that his mother invited your family over for the Christmas soiree this year, although he can see her and your mother are very close friends, probably dating back to their school days.

He's doing his best not to give you a withering glare from across the room, but he seems to fail when you send him a scowl before turning your back to him, gathered with your parents while they chat with another guest. He's having a hard time remembering who most everyone is, but he recognizes those who are close with his father.

He hasn't said a word about you since coming home for Christmas, why in the bloody hell did his mother invite you over? Is it because Draco mentioned you once or twice throughout the school year? Did his father make some errant remark? Perhaps it's not his mothers meddling, perhaps it's just the fact she wished to see her old friend, but she's clever, and Draco puts nothing past her.

Hmm.

He's distracted when Theodore comes up to him, looking bored as he always does. He was born late in life to his elderly father and his wife, although his mother has long since passed. Theodore and Draco were close as children, and have stayed friends throughout their schooling, despite Theodore Nott's fascination with herbology.

"Fancy our fathers are going for a chat," Theodore says, tilting his head back towards the drawing room door. Draco glances, seeing the elder Malfoy and some of his closer friends are indeed leaving the drawing room together.

"As always." Draco murmurs, his eyes flicking back to you. You have your typical braid drawn over your shoulder, and you're toying with the end of your hair, telling him immediately you're either nervous or agitated. You look a lot like your mother, although this is the first time Draco has ever seen your parents. You inherited your fathers hair color, but you get your pretty looks and nice figure without doubt from the primping woman at your side, who sounds like an exact replica of his mother.

He figures she's the Slytherin in the family as well.

"You still mooning over (Y/L/N), Draco?" Theodore groans quietly, shaking his head. He's tall like Draco, but not as slim, with shaggy blonde hair that's an odd length to his shoulders. His blue eyes are usually bored, as if the world around him holds no fascination for him. Draco has only ever seen his old friend excited when around Madam Sprout, the head of the herbology department.

"I am not mooning," Draco mutters crossly, frowning. "What would give you that idea?"

"The fact you're sending her lovesick looks from across the room, is what. You know I heard she's fancying one of those red haired twins from Gryffindor."

"As if she'd ever lower herself to that level," Draco scoffs immediately, despite knowing without doubt the rumor to be true. He saw you just before vacation, standing out on the walkway letting that Weasley kiss you. Still, he doesn't want your reputation tarnished, especially not at Christmas time. He intends to keep the information to himself, even from his parents.

"Minister! So lovely you could make it!" Draco hears his mother suddenly exclaim, and he sighs as he looks over, seeing the Minister of Magic himself walk into the drawing room, shaking hands with Narcissa.

"Yes, well, I can only stay this night, dear lady," the minister of magic, Cornelius Fudge, informs her, squeezing her soft hands. "I have many duties you know, but I do love your parties."

Narcissa laughs, acting flattered; really, the entire point of inviting the minister was a show of power in her eyes; her husband donates many times to the ministry, it's only natural they would be close. It's always nice to have the Minister backing the Malfoy family, especially should they ever need his assistance.

Draco sees the ploy for what it is.

He turns away with disinterest, instead looking at Theodore, who talks lightly about plants. Draco isn't surprised his friend has broached the subject, and therefore has no issue in tuning him out completely. He glances over at you again, seeing the bored expression on your face. It doesn't change, not even when the Minister goes to your family and warmly greets your father, clapping him on the shoulder and shaking his hand profusely. The two seem to be old friends, your father occasionally does work for the Ministry when they ask, and it's much appreciated.

Your mother looks ridiculously pleased, and Draco sees you sigh, taking a step back so your parents could chat. You glance around, as if looking for somewhere to sit down, finally spying a loveseat beneath the painting of Draco's grandfather Abraxas Malfoy. You sit down rather heavily, propping your chin on your hand as you look about the room.

"Instead of pining, why don't you go talk to her?" Theodore nudges Draco rather impatiently. "Stop being such a git already, it's embarrassing."

Draco flushes immediately, glaring at his friend and crossing his arms stubbornly. "She wouldn't want to talk to me, we don't get along."

"Cause you're a downright prat most times, mate." Theodore informs Draco promptly. "If you go speak nice to her, she might change her mind."

No, Draco sincerely doubts that.

Still, it's rude of a host to let a guest feel unattended, isn't it? Plus, you don't know what he saw from the astronomy tower, and he's probably the only one who knows for sure that you and the Weasley are... something. Draco frowns, and turns away from Theodore, resolutely starting your way.

He refuses to be cowed down by his own insecurities on the matter, and besides, you're the only other person his age including Theodore. You're going to be spending a lot of time together for the next few days, so he might as well call a truce.

You stiffen when he brazenly sits down beside you, keeping the middle cushion between you. He leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees before he looks at you.

"Glad your family could make it," he says after a moment, going for polite. "Our mothers seem excited."

"They were school friends," you mutter, eyeing him warily beneath your bangs; why is he speaking to you? He's mad at you, isn't he? That's all he ever seems to be, but the feeling is usually mutual. "I'm not surprised."

Draco wrinkles his nose at your terse response, straightening a little as he twists to look at you fully. He shoots a glance at his mother, but she's preoccupied entertaining the Yaxley's.

"Look, while you're here, let's call a truce, shall we?" Draco says bluntly, and your eyes flick to his face in surprise.

"A truce?"

"Yes. My mother wants this to go smoothly, it's the first one she's held in years and she's already threatened all our lives over it." Draco sighs as he leans up, looking disgruntled. "It would be nice if I didn't have to worry about you glaring at me across the room."

"Me?" you gasp indignantly, crossing your arms as you glare at him. "You glared at me first!"

"You sent me a dirty look!"

"Only after the one I saw you send me!" You realize how petulant you sound, and you grit your teeth in aggravation. Both of you fall silent, mulling over your next words carefully.

"I'll try to be nice if you are," you finally concede with a sigh, cutting your eyes at him. "But no snide comments or remarks."

"Fine. No accusations or insults."

"Fine."

"Fine."

You glare at each other, then look away, huffing.

Well, better then nothing, Draco supposes. He hesitantly offers his hand in your direction, hoping you don't ignore him and that someone notices.

"Shake on it. We'll be as nice as possible to each other while you're here."

"Well, they said it's rude to be ill towards your host," you mutter, your soft hand taking his; his fingers twitch at how small your fingers are compared to his own as the two of you shake, hastily letting go of each other and turning away.

It's going to be an interesting week.

~~~~~~~

"You never mentioned how good of friends you and Narcissa's son are!" Your mother admonishes the moment you're all shown to your rooms, your luggage waiting for you. Your room is smaller, connecting off of your parents, but it's more then enough for you. It's heavily decorated in useless frilly vases and paintings, with a thick rug and a large fire already keeping the room warm.

"We're not very good friends, Mother," you reply as you open your bags, glancing at her through the open doorway to her room. She stands there, gazing at you with her hands on her shapely hips, frowning. "We just know each other from school."

"Nonsense. Does he have a crush on you, (Y/N)? I saw you two talking on the love seat."

"No, he doesn't, Mother. He was just being a good host." you huff, staring down at your packed clothing. "We hardly get along, honestly."

"Well, it looks to me as if he likes you," your mother states as she crosses her arms. You can see your father behind her, his glasses glinting in the lights as begins silently unpacking his bags, flicking his wand. All the clothing rises smoothly into the air, and he directs it to the waiting wardrobe.

You need to learn how to do that.

Draco does like you, you know that. Well, in his own way, if that counts for anything. He did ask you to the Yule Ball, even if he showed up with Pansy Parkinson of all people on his arm. He did stop you from falling when the Weasley's ball of light knocked right into you, and in the past he's always been as nice as is possible for him.

"What would it matter even if he did?" You ask, disgruntled. You tug your braid over your shoulder, toying with the end of your hair as you look at your mother.

"Why, it would be wonderful!" Your mother gasps, her eyes lighting up as she clasps her hands. "You two would be adorable together! Oh, and if you were to marry, Narcissa and I would be related!"

"Mother!" You groan immediately, shaking your head. "I would never marry him! He's incorrigible!"

"Posh! He seems right sweet to me, and right handsome, just like his parents. You can't do much better then a Malfoy, darling, you know that. It's hard to find pure blood families anymore, everyone is always mixing with muggles, but I suppose that's no shock, considering how many of them there are these days," your mother rambles, and you do as your father does, quickly tuning her out as you begin unpacking.

You can do much better then a Malfoy, actually. Your mind flicks to Fred, with that shock of red hair and goofy smile. He kissed you so sweetly, whereas you can't imagine Draco ever doing such a thing!

He's too cold of a person.

~~~~~~~

"So what's this then with Helena's daughter?" Narcissa Black Malfoy asks her son as they stand upstairs in her chambers. She gazes at him in her reflection as she places diamond earrings in her ears, curious. "Helena won't stop babbling about how good of friends you are."

Draco tenses slightly, sitting on the trunk at the foot of his parents bed. His father is still absent, although dinner will be served soon, so he should be reappearing with all his friends from the study. He'd honestly come to seek his mothers advice about you, but now he's not so sure he wants to breach the subject just yet.

"We know each other from school, she's very smart." Is all he finally says, shrugging slim, black-clad shoulders. "She doesn't like me much."

"Don't be ridiculous, Draco, you're a Malfoy." Narcissa scoffs immediately, taking a step back to smooth her skirts, liking how she appears. "Anyone who's intelligent will like you, if nothing more for your money and influence."

Draco frowns. "She doesn't seem phased by that."

"Because, darling, she has money and influence." Narcissa looks at her son in amusement. "She's one of us, a wealthy pure blood. She doesn't have to worry about marrying up in the world, just down. When she's old enough, she'll have more suitors then she'll know what to do with, just you wait and see. Many will be vying for her hand in marriage just because of her last name. You know how important her father is in the ministry, how his inventions are changing the way magic is used."

Draco has no idea, he doesn't really care.

"So what am I supposed to do then? We can barely stand each other. She's a right ---."

"Don't insult her, Draco," his mother tsks, and he quiets instantly, shifting in aggravation on the trunk. Just talking about you gets under his skin, especially knowing what he does. His mother doesn't understand what kind of person you are, how very little you care about social standards. Seeing your mother tonight, how closely she acts to his own, he knows she would never support a relationship with a low bred wizard like Weasley, although your father he's not to sure about yet, he's so very quiet.

You must get your mannerisms more from him.

"If you're interested in her, you must woo her," Narcissa says after a moment, stepping forward to press a warm kiss against her sons forehead. "A girl like her isn't going to be easily impressed, and being born from a Slytherin and a Ravenclaw means she might be more clever then you." She lightly taps him on his pale, straight nose. "Be sweet to her, Draco, and you might just have a chance."

"But what if I don't want one?"

"You won't find many pure blood families left, Draco, and you won't do much better then a (Y/L/N)." Narcissa says firmly, slipping a bracelet onto her slim wrist. "She's got wealth and influence just from being born, which is more then I can say for a lot of other pure bloods. If you're interested in her, make it obvious, and simply win her over." She says it like it's that simple. "She's not like the girls at your school, you're actually going to have to work for her affections. Now, let's get down to dinner, shall we? Go fetch your father from his study and tell him it's time, and if he's late I'm going to have his head!"

"Yes, Mother," Draco rises glumly, leaving her chambers behind.

Work for your affections?

He's never had to work for anything a day in his life!

~~~~~~

You feel like you've been sat the children's table.

You frown, finding you're at the end of the table with Draco and Theodore Nott, your mother seated right beside Narcissa with your father at her side. Of course Lucius Malfoy is at the head of the table, looking distracted.

Why are you sitting with Draco? You haven't been this close to him since he stopped you from falling. You glance at him under your lashes as you pick at your food, finding he's chatting amicably with Theodore, who usually is off on his own when he's at school. He's always so quiet, you find you hardly know he exists most times. His father is sitting close to Lucius Malfoy, and the table is full of talk.

At least everyone seems to be getting along.

You look up at Theodore, realizing he's talking about plants, reminding you very strongly of Neville Longbottom. Just listening for a few seconds makes your head hurt, and you sigh as you lean back in your seat. You're not very hungry, it's still quite early to be eating dinner in your mind, and your body isn't used to it.

Besides, you're not fond of spinach.

"Here," Draco shifts, handing you one of the baskets of freshly baked bread. "You'll be starving by tonight if you don't eat something."

"Thanks," you mumble, taking the basket, sending him a curious look when he starts speaking to Theodore again, this time discussing the newest broomstick. Of course his father has bought him the best one on the market, making it possible for him to be even better during Quidditch; you find that completely ridiculous, he's a terrible seeker and he's only on the team because his father bought his way in.

You know this, but wisely choose to remain silent, instead eating your bread and butter. The bread is soft, and warm, and actually much better then the spinach dish before you. You'll be relieved when the appetizer is removed and the main dish served.

Draco sends a sly look at you when he thinks you're not paying attention, instead tearing your bread up into little bits and dipping it into the pat of butter you have on your plate. He told his mother that you hated spinach, but she never listens and served it anyhow.

He catches his father's eye from down the table, and for a moment, Draco swears the elder Malfoy looks amused as he raises a cup to his lips.

Did his parents change the seating arrangements last minute? Is that why the three of you are so far down the table, almost to yourselves?

Wait a minute.

Is Draco being set up? Most likely for failure?

Hmm.

"So, (Y/N)," you're a little surprised when Theodore addresses you, a wad of bread in your mouth you nearly choke on. "You're best in charms, aren't you?"

You blink, wondering what's more rude, to continue chewing or spit your food out?

"She's the top of the class," Draco answers for you, giving you time to swallow. "She's in advanced, anyway."

"That's what I thought. I'm not a fan of charms my self, I find them boring. I know Flitwick said that charms are the basis for all magical spells and what not, but past the basics, I've never had a fondness for them." Theodore rambles, sounding more and more like Nott Senior. Draco merely takes a sip of his drink, leaving you to answer for yourself this time.

"I find the more control one has over their ability to charm, the easier it is to cast spells and have them hold." You say after a moment, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "It's much simpler to cast and have a spell maintain for a larger amount of time the more precise you are when casting it."

"Really? What's the longest you've had one stay?" Theodore is curious.

"A while, I suppose, I've never timed it. I just know in basics, when you charm a teapot to dance, it only lasts a few minutes. In advanced, it can last for hours, as long as you know what you're doing. Flitwick is always so excited when someone does it right he throws us all a small party, so we really don't learn as much as what we could be." You shrug your shoulders, and for a moment, Draco can't help but admire you.

You really are brilliant, aren't you?

"Interesting." Theodore tilts his head at you, obviously thinking the same thing as Draco. "I find I like Transfiguration better."

"It's all in what one likes," you merely reply.

"Well, I don't see much difference between the two." Theodore continues, as if you never spoke. "You're changing an object to do something that you want."

"Not really." You frown, a bit irked. "Though similar, it's completely different."

"How so?"

Is he challenging you on this subject? You frown a little, seeing Draco once again sipping his drink and trying to act like he's invisible, where Theodore Nott is flat out staring you down as if demanding some explanation to suit his curiosity.

Huh.

"In Transfiguration, you're changing one object into a completely different one. For example, if you changed a teapot into a cup, it's essentially not the same thing anymore, is it? In charms, if you merely give the tea pot legs and the ability to dance, you're just giving it an extra property without changing its essential nature; it's still a teapot, after all."

"True, but there are some spells that are in both categories." Theodore says promptly, and you find yourself growing a dislike for the know-it-all Slytherin.

"Yes, the definitions are somewhat loose, I suppose." You mutter, tearing your bread in half rather forcefully. Draco lightly kicks Theodore under the table, displeased with the fact that Nott has put you in a disagreeable state. How is he supposed to do anything with you when you're all fired up? You'll most definitely find something to jump down his throat over!

"Well, Herbology is much more straightforward," Theodore says, changing topics, and it's all Draco can do not to groan; can the boy not shut his trap for five minutes? Why is he feeling so talkative tonight whereas usually words must be pried out of him?

The Malfoy is immensely relieved when the main dish arrives, interrupting the most boring conversation of his life.

~~~~~~~

"Draco, be a darling, would you, and see what your father is doing?" Draco's mother calls as she freshens up. "Helena and I are going for a walk in the gardens, and I was truly hoping your father and the minister along with Nicolas would like to join us."

"Father left with Mr. Nott about an hour ago, said he'd be back around lunch," Draco replies, fixing the button on his cufflink.

"Pity. I was going to get him to interrogate Helena's husband, learn a little more about his work. I was unaware of how close he and the Minister appear to be."

Draco doesn't respond, giving himself a once over. He's dressed nicely in a black sweater and slacks, his shoes polished, his hair brushed and in place. The collar of his white shirt is ironed perfectly, and he feels he looks very respectable.

Maybe you'll notice.

"You did very well at dinner last night, Draco," Narcissa says after a moment as she looks away from the mirror in the drawing room, giving him a warm smile. "I'm very impressed with Miss (Y/L/N), she certainly knows her magic."

"She's brilliant, yeah."

"As you are. Why don't you ask her to walk with us through the gardens? You can show her the gazebo," his mother adds with a coy smile, and Draco flushes.

"She's not, uh, she likes book more then she does chatting, Mother." Draco says after a moment, much to his mothers disappointment. "She would probably rather be eaten by a dragon then go for a walk with me anyway."

"You never know until you ask, my sweet," Narcissa sighs at him, brushing an errant blond hair down. "Don't be nervous, its unbecoming. I'm going to get Helena, and I'll mention she should bring (Y/N), how about that?"

"No." Draco says instantly, disliking the idea of his mother having to force you to be in his company. "That's alright. I was going to be with Theodore anyhow, I already said I would. You two go enjoy your walk, but take a coat, it's getting cold quickly today."

Narcissa clucks, pressing a kiss against his forehead before leaving the drawing room.  She does love her son, but she wishes he would be a tad braver.

~~~~~~~

"Nicolas! You can't possibly wear that coat!"

"... What's wrong with it?"

"Look at the sleeve! You've got a tear!"

"Oh, that," your father twists, looking down at where the blue material of his coat is torn just at the bend of his elbow. "I caught it on the metal leg of my new invention, it's ---."

"I don't care how you did it, my love, just that it's been done," your mother sighs. "Do change, I can't have you looking like you're wearing second hand clothing on our walk."

Your father actually grimaces, and you hide your smile behind your book as you sit on the windowsill, your legs curled up to you. You've been trying to read your newest novel, but your parents conversation is proving to be more entertaining.

"I was actually thinking about going downstairs to speak with Yaxley about his work in Magical Law Enforcement. You two go on and have fun," your father squeezes your mothers ringed fingers. "I'll see you at dinner."

"Oh, all right," your mother pouts, and quickly leaves the room.

You and your father both sigh in relief.

"Nice save, Dad," you say with a chuckle, lowering your book to your lap slightly. "Are you really going to see Mr. Yaxley?"

"No." Your father shakes his head, shifting his glasses higher on his nose. "But I'm not going downstairs to have my ears bleed because of inane gossip, either. I'm going to the library, I hear the Malfoy's have an impressive one. Want to come, love?"

"No thanks." You lightly lift your book. "I'm settled, I think."

"Alright, I'll see you at dinner. Oh," your father pauses in the door, frowning, "make sure to wear one of the dresses your mother packed for you. Tonight is supposed to be important, she wants us to look nice."

You groan.

"How about you wear the dress and I wear some trousers?"

"You know that's frowned upon in polite society."

You smile, and your father returns it before he leaves, off to find the enormous library. You sigh again, relaxing back against your plush pillows as you turn your gaze out the frost-covered window. You sort of like Malfoy manner, it might seem a little dark but it's beautiful in it's own way. The snow hasn't quite come yet, but it's getting there, the clouds dark and gray as they roll across the sky. You're kind of excited to see what the snow looks like here, covering the expansive gardens you see out your window.

You blink, biting your lip as you see Malfoy walking down one of the paths, talking to Theodore. He looks up, as if feeling your gaze, and you feel your face flush immediately; you give an awkward wave from the window seat, and after a moment he returns it before listening to whatever rambles Theodore says.

Maybe this truce between the two of you isn't so bad after all, it seems to be working quite well.

Hmm, you'll see.

~~~~~~~

"There, now you look like a doll!" Your mother says happily as she fixes your hair, making sure the curled strands fall down your shoulder, above the sheer material of your dress. You sigh, bored as she fusses over your appearance; the fact you're even wearing a frilly dress with a bow cinched at your back should be enough to please her.

Even your father is wearing his black suit jacket, looking nice and respectable, much like he does when he goes to the Ministry; looking at him now, you can see how he gains respect just from his presence, that he has an aura of authority. Relaxed in his casual clothes at home, he's just your sweet, quiet natured father.

Now you can see what drove your mother mad over him.

"Well, let's not be late, darlings," your mother says, her hair twisted intricately over her head as she heads for the door, dangling earrings glimmering in her ears. "I want to make sure we get there on time. I can't wait to see what Narcissa has planned for entertainment tonight!"

You hope it's better then her dinner choices.

You and your father follow your mother through the manor and downstairs, gathering with the rest of the guests as they amble towards the dining room. You're irked as you find yourself placed beside Draco again, who looks quite nice in his rich black sweater. Oddly, Theodore doesn't appear, leaving just the two of you with your father seated on your right.

You glance at Draco, but he doesn't look bothered by his friends disappearance, instead listening up the table at what his father is saying, thanking all of his guests for being there --- you don't see Nott senior either, did they leave? Actually, now that you notice, several members from last night are missing, all of them the ones who disappeared off with the elder Malfoy yesterday.

Curious.

"So, tonight, we're going to have some wonderful entertainment after dinner," you hear Narcissa say, but you miss the rest of it as you quite frankly don't listen. You've just gotten into the middle of your book, only to be interrupted! You frown down at your food, seeing the bits of green around the edges, much less on your plate then all the others, you notice.

"Here."

You look over, seeing Draco offering you the rolls once more, his cheeks a little red. "I told Mother you didn't like spinach, but she never listens."

"How did you know I didn't like it?"

"You never eat it at school," he shrugs, sitting the basket down as you get what you want. "You avoid it like you do Pansy Parkinson."

You chuckle, tearing your roll in half. "She's a right gossip, she gets under my skin."

"I do believe that's her talent."

You don't disagree.

"She's taken up with Tabitha Bainbridge, they're the gossip queens of the commons room," Draco continues conversationally, picking at his own food. "If you want to know the latest, you just have to sit near them."

"Is that how you know everything?" You ask in amusement, taking a bite of your bread. Draco nods his head, absently reaching for the butter and putting it near you.

"You wouldn't believe the things they talk about."

"Oh, I think I would," you sigh, taking a pat of butter. "Pansy always gives me this nasty look when I'm in the same room as her, so I don't expect sitting near is plausible."

"Well, you're better for it anyhow," Draco says with a shrug of his shoulders. "You get too close her mouth might become contagious. Next thing I know, you'll be right in the midst of them, yapping about the newest trend in accessories."

You snort, smiling slightly. "Do you think so? Couldn't you see me with a bird as big as Hagrid in my hair?"

Draco grins. "Anything you wear in your hair would be the next fashion rage. Try some fruit like Hannah Abbot."

You giggle, unable to help yourself as you remember the lemon hair bands the girl had wore in her pigtails. Draco straightens immediately at the sound, pleased with himself. His mother gives him an encouraging smile from the top of the table, raising her goblet to her lips.

"I can see it now. Maybe I'll try some slices of oranges," you decide, relaxing into your chair beside him.

"Why not grapes? You can make a crown out of them."

"Mmm, I'm very glad hats are going out of style. I don't think I can stand the sight of another fruit basket parading down Diagon Alley."

"You and me both. Quite dreadful, some's tastes."

"Well, not everyone can be as stylish as you, Draco," you say after a moment, but your voice is soft, not at all full of the contempt he's used too. "We don't all have your sense of fashion."

Draco chuckles, his cheeks flushing. So you think he dresses nicely? Did the sweater work out after all?

"Mother has this big dance planned tonight, with a live band and everything." He says after a moment, and your face pinches. "Do you want to escape with me to the gardens instead? There's supposed to be an eclipse tonight, we can see it from the gazebo quite easily."

"That sounds much better then being forced to dance," you agree with a sigh, keeping your voice just as soft as his; you know your mother will have a fit when she realizes she can't find you and force you, but you'd rather a Hungarian Horntail roast you alive then spend another moment on a dance floor.

So, after an uneventful dinner, and during the move between rooms, you and Draco manage to sneak away. Conveniently, Narcissa Malfoy holds your mothers rapt attention during the escape, though both fathers do notice the sudden ditch down the side halfway in silence. Your mother is quite peeved when she realizes your missing, but is soon swept away in the festivities and your absence forgotten.

~~~~~~~

"Wow, it is beautiful out here," you say, your breath visible in front of your face as you follow Draco through the winding garden paths. You keep a little to the side, your arms held tightly around yourself to fight off the frightful chill in the air; you'd stopped to grab your coats along the way, but you're still not very warm yet.

"Mother likes the flowers in the summer, she keeps it nice and trim out here," Draco shrugs his shoulders, the mos growing across the pathways the farther you walk keeping your steps quiet. "Her and father take walks out here often."

"Your parents seem very nice," you offer after a moment; this is the first time you've ever met them, but they've been nothing but pleasant. You've heard what people say about them, especially the pompous Lucius Malfoy, but he seems much more distracted and stressed then he does arrogant and demeaning; of course, it could also be due to the fact that everyone in his household is pure blood, and he has no one to belittle.

"So do yours. Your mother and mine are very similar."

"They were raised the same, I suppose. They were best friends during their time at Hogwarts."

"Your mother was a Slytherin?"

"Of course. My father was Ravenclaw, though, but he caught her attention seventh year and they got married right after graduation." You state, shivering; you're not sure how long you can stand being outside, even if there is an eclipse. "It's not odd for Ravenclaw's and Slytherin's to match."

"No, it's not." Draco agrees, seeing the gazebo starting to come up ahead. You look relieved, hurrying over to it. You sit down on one of the white benches, and Draco goes for the bench with a blanket tossed over it, lifting up the blanket and revealing that the bench also serves as a trunk. You blink, watching as he lifts it up. He pulls another, clean blanket out of it, as well as a bottle and two glasses before moving back to your side.

"Did you bring me out here to get me drunk?" You ask he sets the bottle between the two of you, offering you the clean blanket, which you take gratefully; your dress is certainly no protection from the cold of London's Christmas air.

"No, but it helps keep you warm," he shrugs his shoulders, pouring you both some. "You don't have to drink if you don't want too."

But he does; he finds himself suddenly nervous, aware that he's completely alone with you and neither of you have yet to tear the others head off. He holds the glass tumbler in his hands, raising his head to gaze up at the moon as it lights up the gazebo, the stars bright and close tonight.

You curl your nose as you sip the liquid, not liking the taste at all; it's admittedly your first sip of alcohol, you don't have very much at your own home unless there are guests, and you've never been interested in it. Draco doesn't seem phased at all.

"So where's Theodore?" You ask after a moment, tucking the blanket around your legs to fight the cold. "He disappeared."

"Oh, he and his father had something come up, they had to leave suddenly," Draco shrugs his shoulders. "They should be back sometime tonight, I believe."

"Oh, so they left just in time to miss all the wonderful dancing?"

"It appears so."

You look at him curiously, seeing how relaxed he is as he leans back against the bench, long legs sprawling out in front of him. The moon is highlighting his features, which aren't bad in the least, very pleasing to the eye, actually. You've always found Draco good looking, it's just his attitude that's always ruined him for you.

Tonight, though, he seems so... normal. At school he's always ready with some biting remark, ready to tear someone down to the quick or put them in their place. At his home, he's much more relaxed, and you haven't heard him say one errant word that's overly cruel. Perhaps it's because he's in his element here, that it's his home or where his family is, although they've certainly raised him to hold their same views.

Still, seeing Draco like this, it makes you think of him a little differently.

You hear the clink of the bottle, and look down as Draco pours your tumbler half full; you hadn't even realized that you'd sipped it dry, too lost in your thoughts. You give him a small smile, glancing up at the sky; you can just about see lunar eclipse.

You shiver, but the brandy is helping, you don't feel as cold now.

"Why can't we be this nice to each other at school?" You ask after a moment, blinking as you look at the blond boy beside you.

"I don't know, you're usually mad at me."

"Because you're being cruel to others, generally."

Draco shrugs his shoulder, tilting his tumbler back and draining the brandy. You raise your brows, but don't comment at how easily he does. He doesn't want to start a fight with you, not right now, so he ignores the comment.

He looks down at his glass, shifting it a little in the bright moonlight to watch it sparkle.

"What's your favorite color of carnation?" He asks after a moment, watching your glass still almost to your lips.

"What?"

"I know carnations are your favorite flower, but what color?" He asks plainly.

"Oh, um... pink. How did you know they were my favorite?"

"I overheard you mentioning it to Rachel back when she was gushing about some roses some boy got her."

"Oh. Wait, did you send me those carnations on Valentines Day?" you gasp, suddenly putting two and two together; you couldn't keep them alive, you have absolutely no green thumb, but those are the first flowers you'd ever received not from your parents, and you'd treasured them as long as they'd lived. "Draco!"

The redness on his cheeks are all the affirmation you need, and you can't help but soften slightly.

"That was very kind of you." You say after a moment; why did he send you flowers? Did he feel bad for you because he knew you wouldn't get any otherwise?

"Did you like them?"

"Yes. But I couldn't keep them alive very long."

Draco chuckles, relaxing. He feels warm now thanks to the brandy, and not quite so nervous anymore. He rests his arm along the back of the bench, setting his empty glass down but not bothering to refill it.

"That's alright, I'll send you some more."

You almost smile, but quickly shake your head. "That's alright. I mean, I appreciate the gesture, but ---."

"I want to send you flowers," Draco interrupts you, and you look up, finding those piercing gray eyes are on yours, making your cheeks heat in the cold winter air.  "I'll send you any kind you want, every day of the week, if you wish it."

"Draco ---."

"You know I'm crazy about you, don't you?" he asks, twisting a little so that he's facing you, finally having the courage to admit what he's been wanting to say to you for months. "Everyone knows I'm mooning after you, I have been for months."

You stare at him, your face turning a bright red visible in the moonlight. You...

"I --- I mean, I didn't ---."

Draco sighs. "I thought you knew, anyhow. I've tried every which way in getting your attention. I thought asking you to the Yule Ball would finally break the ice."

"You waited too long, you should have asked me earlier." You grumble, setting your glass down.

"Would you have gone with me if I had?" Draco perks up at those words, realizing the implication behind them. You hesitate, pressing your lips together, the brandy still fresh on your tongue.

"Perhaps," you say after a moment, twisting the blanket nervously between your fingers, daring to glance over at him. "If you had asked very nicely."

"I thought I did ask nicely."

"You told me rather then asked me," you correct him, shaking your head, and Draco can't help but admire the way the moonlight makes your eyes glitter, how your long lashes cast shadows down your cheeks. He wants to reach forward, brush his fingers down your skin, see how soft it is.

"What do you consider nicely then?" His blond brows furrow. "Should I have brought flowers and groveled at your feet?"

"It would have been a nice sight," you giggle, imagining it now. Draco pulling a bouquet out of his sleeve like a muggle magician, falling to one knee and thrusting them at you in one of the courtyards.

Draco flushes, but he likes your giggles, that's twice tonight he's heard it and he never wants to stop. He shifts a little closer, sliding his arm more firmly behind you, but you don't seem to notice.

"What if I asked you out now?" he asks softly, and you hear the tinge of nervousness in his tone. "Right this minute? I can conjure up some flowers if I have too."

You hesitate, your eyes flicking to him, suddenly tense. Is he serious? Ask you out?

"Draco, you don't really like me, you ---."

"I have never liked a person more in my life," he interrupts you, completely honest for once. "I have done literally everything I know to get into your good graces, but I'm, I'm running out of ideas. If you don't like me, just tell me."

Oh.

Well, you --- you don't, do you?

Your mind immediately flicks to Fred, the kind smiles, the cutesy winks that make you laugh. What are you doing, sitting out here with Draco, listening to him admit his feelings for you when you should walk away because you're maybe sort of spoken for? Honestly, you're not sure, Fred hasn't officially asked you out in any way, just hung around you much more since he kissed you on the walkway.

The past few days, you can say you like Draco here much better then at school, at least. He's much nicer, very polite, hasn't said one cross comment about anyone. His parents are kind, obviously doting on him, and, well, you find him sweet.

He sent you flowers, when no one else remembered you existed.

I look down at your hands, twisting nervously in the blanket across your lap as you take a deep breath. You're not sure what you're going to say, your chest pinches as you turn to Draco, lips parted to say something.

Draco doesn't give you the chance.

His warm hand rises, cupping your jaw as his lips descend upon yours. You still immediately as you feel the soft pressure of them, how light and gentle their caress is. Your hand rises to his shoulder, of course with intent to push him away, but your fingers betray you, instead sliding upward to curl into the hair at the nape of his neck.

Draco must be dreaming. Did he really gain the courage to kiss you? Are you truly kissing him back?

He'd expected you to pull away, to hiss something vile at him in the night before storming off in a tizzy. He thought perhaps you were going to tell him you never liked him, and this might be the only chance for him to ever tell what you taste like. He's beyond surprised to find you kissing him back, your pliable lips moving shyly against his own. You're warm in his grasp, and he finds his hand slipping down to your waist, pulling you closer to him as he tilts his head for a better angle.

You both completely miss the lunar eclipse.

Your arms wind their way around his neck, his hand bracing against the bench at your hip as he leans into you.

You have lost your mind, you simply know it. What are you doing, kissing Draco Malfoy in his gazebo? Why are you lips parting at his teasing tongue? You don't know what to do, you've never been kissed this way --- you've only ever been kissed once!

He tastes like brandy, and you catch a whiff of his cologne, a dark scent that fits him perfectly. He's kissing you a little more eagerly now, not holding back like before, and he twists so that you're leaning back into his arm, that he's partly over you, shielding you from the moonlight.

Draco loves the way you taste, how soft and sweet you are in his arms. You're shy, he doubts you've ever kissed anyone like this --- oh, how it grinds him that Weasley was no doubt your first kiss, when Draco should have been the one for that honor!

Well, that's fine --- you must not like the Weasley too much if you're kissing him anyhow, right? You grow a little bolder, tightening your grip in his hair, your tongue starting to move against his own in the most interesting manner.

Draco has so much to teach you, and his hand slips to your waist, liking how the dress clings to your curves; he likes the style on you, he meant to tell you earlier that you looked nice but the thought slipped his mind. You're always pretty, but your mother had you dolled up tonight, and your eyes, they really stand out, all glittery and calculating.

Sometimes he thinks you're too smart for your own good.

You sigh against his lips, your fingers resting against his chest as you press into him a little more, liking how warm his embrace is compared to the coldness of the night. His fingers tighten around your waist, and you feel them start to slowly lower, brushing against your hip, starting down ---.

There's a sudden popping noise, very loud, and then you hear a pained groan and a gasp. You and Draco freeze, and you pull apart hastily, almost guiltily, as if you're doing something wrong. You both stare with wide eyes at the crumpled form at the base of the gazebo steps, dressed in black robes and writhing on the ground.

"Draco ---." you start worriedly, but the boy is already moving, rushing to the fallen form. You jump to your feet immediately, the blanket tumbling to the ground as you hurry forward, hovering nervously atop the steps.

Who is that? Where did they come from!?

"Lucius," the writhing form wheezes, a raspy voice you certainly don't recognize. Draco pauses, his hand hovering above the pained form before his serious eyes flick to you.

"(Y/N), run inside and get my father."

"But ---."

"Now!" Draco barks, his tone sharp, and you jump slightly. Normally, you would be cross with him at such a tone, but under the circumstances, you don't say another word. You immediately rush off, hurrying towards the manor.

You practically toss yourself through the doors, rushing for the drawing room where you can hear music and loud laughter emanating into the hallway. You step through the open doors, finding Lucius Malfoy immediately. He's seated at a small round table, cards laid out before him as his wife sits beside him laughing.

You make a beeline for him, hardly noticing anything else about the room, panicked. Lucius notices you as you approach, Narcissa following his gaze and quickly distracting the rest of the table as you reach him.

He takes in your messed hair, pale complexion and wide eyes.

"M-Mr.Malfoy ---."

"What is it?"

"Draco, he --- he needs you in the garden," you say softly, hoping no one else hears you; you're not sure what's going on, but it's got you quite upset, and you don't know what to do. Why was that man laid out on the ground? Is he hurt? How can the older Malfoy help? Draco ---?

"Where in the garden?" Lucius is already rising, sending his friends a polite smile and lame excuse, grabbing his cane immediately.

"At the gazebo ---."

"Thank you, (Y/N), do stay here and keep my wife company," he says, already brushing past you so quickly you feel the breeze from his robes. You hover in place anxiously, watching him go, only turning when Narcissa Malfoy calls your name and past the vacated seat, requesting you join her for the rest of the game.

You sit reluctantly, perfectly aware she's keeping you from returning outside, where you really want to know what's going on.

What's happening at Malfoy Manor?

Tags:@ariminiria     @a-mnd  @xaohroa @raven666hale

[btswishes]

Salem's witches.

BTS AU

Part1 /...

A/N: I recently watched a video about Salem’s witch trials and came up with this idea.It is kind of interesting so I want to see where I go with this story. Requests are CLOSED. I hope you like this and sorry for any mistakes made.

Word count:  3,086

Warnings: None

 You were walking barefoot around the forest.A white dress ,that was reaching your knees, moved gently as your hands touched the trees around you. The light was warm and pleasant. Closing your eyes you could hear the heart beat of so many living creatures - animals, plants, everything and anything.

“I knew I would find you here.”your eyes snapped open and you turned back to capture in your sight the person talking behind your figure 

“Good for you.”you said looking at the long black haired girl, as she smirked closing her dark eyes for a second 

“Barefoot, dressed in white?”she described what she was seeing “Could this get any more cliche?”she sat on the grass and leaned onto a tree

“The way I dress has nothing to do with you.”you averted your gaze 

“Isn’t it too bright though?” 

“I do not live like a bat in total darkness.”your head moved up towards the sky, bathing your skin in the rays of the sun

“You should try it.”she said

“Caves are more your style Onyx.”you turned to look at her

“Have you seen your room?Last time I checked skulls didn’t scream ‘I am a little pink princess’.”

“Last time ‘I’ checked ,skulls don’t scream at all.” 

“Touche.”Onyx got up and patted her clothes clean “So, what now?”

“Why are you asking me?”

“You don’t know do you?”she smiled

“Know what?”

“You are leaving Salem.”

“What!?”your voice echoed in the forest, scaring away all the animals into hiding “What do you mean by that Onyx?”you ran up to her, now staring right into those dark void like eyes 

“All I know is that The Elder Mother has decided to send you to the city.”she looked away 

“When did she tell you this!?”

“Yesterday.”

“And you didn’t come to tell me sooner!” letting go of her shirt you stepped back, sighing with a slight tremble in your breath 

“Y/N, I thought you knew.” 

  You didn’t answer, your eyes looked at her with a piercing gaze worth a thousand words.

“Where is The Elder Mother now?”you asked

“I can let Dawn show you the way.” you nodded and she snapped her fingers, calling upon her familiar.The dark feathered owl landed onto her hand. “He should be able to help you, but Dawn does fly fast.”

“Don’t worry about that, just let him lead the way.”

  Onyx looked at the bird and he flew up immediately. You whistled loudly.Foot steps which were getting louder and louder stopped soon next to you.

“Let’s go Enid.”you jumped on the wolf’s back  

“Good luck!” she yelled

  The owl was very fast, you wouldn’t expect nothing less from Onyx’s familiar.Much time didn’t pass before you reached a lake covered with large trees, small enough to let light pass trough, but big enough to hide what was inside from prying eyes.Dawn went back and you stepped onto the grass, walking closer to a figure dressed in dark colors.

“I expected you.”she said with a deep and old voice 

“What is the meaning of this?” you weren’t planing to beat around the bush 

“I see Onyx told you.”

“Why wasn’t I informed first?”you swung your arm away from your body

“The decisions I make aren’t questionable.You say yes and obey.” 

“Why me and not Onyx?” you knew she was right, who were you to question an elder

“She is needed here in Salem.Her wisdom helps us a lot.”

“That isn’t an answer!”

  The old woman’s head moved slightly to the side, exposing only her white hair and closed eyes. “You should keep your tongue behind your teeth.”

“I am sorry.”you did as she said

“You are the most strongest one of us.If you go than we will have a better chance of finding it.” she looked in front of herself again 

“Elder Mother, I am just as strong as the others.”

“Right now maybe, but soon that will change.” she turned around,now facing you “Don’t you think it is strange that you are the only one of us with two familiars? Not to mention two opposites.” her words made you think a bit “Enid is a dark wolf symbol of power and dominance, Nerin a white cat-elegance, beauty and fragility.”

“How do you know about Nerin!?”you gasped, taking steps back 

“You are the only one who can perform light and dark spells and I have seen you with her a couple of times.”

“Are you going to tell everyone else?”

“There is no need for that now is there.You can call her out, I know.”

  You looked to the side for a second as the animal jumped onto your shoulder, purring and making herself comfortable.You ran your hand through Enid’s fur, gesturing for him to sit down “What are you planing Elder Mother?”you asked

“I need you to do something, no, to find something.”

“And what will that be.”

“I can’t tell you, you will know when you see it.”

“How am I supposed to get it for you when I don’t know what it is?”your voice got a bit louder 

“Your tone!”

“I am sorry Elder Mother.”lowering your head you listened to her

“You will be leaving to day.”

“But...-!”before you could say anything more her head moved towards you, sending chills down your spine 

“Yes Elder Mother, as you wish.”you stepped back and started walking away

“I have left you a little something you can take with you.”

  Soon the trees covered the way towards the lake, like it wasn’t even there in the first place.In front of your house were waiting your parents.Your mother the most exited of them all.

“Congratulations sweetie!You were chosen by the Elder Mother.”she smiled and you walked past her to your room

“Thanks.”

  Closing the door behind you, you looked at all of the stuff in it.It was true, you were going to miss them, but if the Elder says to go, you go. Opening your suitcase, you started thinking what to bring with you. One was filled with clothes and essentials, you know the normal stuff and the second was bigger, had a totally different world in it. 

“What do you think I should take?”you asked the two animals 

  Both Nerin and Enid were holding a book in their mouths.As creatures of different energies they both had spell books of different origin.

“I know about that.”you took them, placing the books on top of each other “I am talking about other stuff.”a white tail sneaked behind you and pulled out a black material “My robe.Should I take it with me?I mean won’t it be a bit strange?”

  What witch leave without her robe and spell book?

“Yeah, you are right.”an hour or so later, you were done 

  Stepping down the old wooden stairs for the last time, you took in the smell of the forest and the cool wind.A car had been waiting for you.

“You will be staying with the Kim family from today on.”said your father “They are very close friends of ours.”

“Nice to meet you.”you shook their hands and got in the car

“Don’t forget.”said the elder 

“You have to call me!”Onyx smiled at you and you did back

  The car started and soon you were on the road, seeing for the last time the green forests of Salem.

“So, Y/N.”started talking the woman “You were born in Salem?”she asked

“Yes, um...”you didn’t know how to address her

“Oh, you can call me mom, I want you to be as comfortable around us as possible.”she smiled.It felt a bit strange at first, but soon you got used to it, they were really sweet people 

“Yes.At the dark cave.”you explained 

“Isn’t that rare.”said the man “You must be very strong.The Elder Mother must really treasure you.”

“I don’t know about that.”you looked down 

“Honey don’t say things like that.”she turned back to look at you “So, this is your familiar?”

“Ah, yes.His name is Enid.”

“Nice to meet you Enid.My familiar is a hawk.”your eyes lit once you heard her

“I have never heard of a familiar like that.My friend has an owl.”

“She must be very smart.Do you want me to show you my familiar?”she asked

“Can I really?”

“Of course.”she smiled and took off her necklace, trowing it in the air from the car window “Fly Adon!”

  The loud call of a bird of pray echoed and you saw a strong light, before the creature itself.

“It’s so pretty.” your head was sticking out of the window, marveling the way Adon was flying.

  Before you knew it you reached the city.It was bigger than you thought.Your eyes were looking at all of the new things, there was a sudden chill you felt, like someone saw you or was actually looking at you, but you brushed it off. The Kim family showed you to your room and you were surprised when you walked inside.

“Wow.”you gasped 

“Do you like it?”the woman asked

“I love it.”there was everything you could ever need in one place.Anything a young which could want.

“You can leave your books here.”she pointed at a stand on the desk

“Ok, let’s leave her to unpack.”the man smiled “Have fun.”the door closed and you were left alone 

“Do you see this Enid, Nerin?” you immediately took out their books and made yourself at home.The only strange thing was a small black box you had never seen before. “Hey, what is this?”you picked it up, but couldn’t open it at all “I don’t remember packing this.”

  We did.

“What?Why?”

  You will find out soon, but not now.

“But Nerin.”

  No buts, Nerin is right.Right now you should focus on your spell practice.Let’s work a bit on your dark spells.

  Practice makes perfect and you indeed wanted to be that. You locked yourself in the new room for 3 hours straight learning spells, following your familiars’s every word and advice. 

  Around 08:00PM someone knocked onto the door and you opened it. In front of you stood a tall man.He looked at you and just said. “Mom asked me to tell you that dinner is ready.” he left just like that. At the table you found out that his name was Kim Namjoon, the son.

“So,you come from Salem?”he asked you and you nodded “I have been there only once, when I got my spell book.” you gasped “Is something wrong?”

“You are a witch too?”

“It does sound a bit feminine, but yes.”he noticed the look in your eyes and added “During the Salem witch trials, out of the 20 victims 6 were men.You shouldn’t be that shocked.”

“It’s just I have never seen one before myself.” you were eyeing him from head to toe. Suddenly you noticed that Namjoon was actually very handsome, unknowingly you started blushing.

 He looked at you ,but you averted your gaze fast.After dinner you shyly ran up to your room. Forgetting about him for a short time, you practiced a bit more spells.

  We should stop for today.

  Enid suggested and Nerin agreed with him.

  He is right, why don’t you go and take a shower?

“That actually sounds nice.”

  Taking a towel you walked into the bathroom, filled the bath with warm water and gently sat down, relaxing every muscle in your body. You didn’t keep your eyes closed for too long. Looking down at the floor you sighed.

“I can do this on my own.” your familiars were with you “I don’t need constant protection, this isn’t Salem remember?”

  Sorry about this. I guess it’s an old habit.

  Nerin flashed you a cat smile and stood up stretching her body a bit. As you sat in the tub, you lifted your hand out of the water and created droplets. As your fingers moved a bit more they turned the spheres into fishes that had almost lifelike movements.

   I see that you have mastered personification spells already. You learn fast don’t you Y/N?

“With a teacher like you, who wouldn't.”your wet hand gently patted Enid’s fur when you heard Nerin clear her throat “And you too.”her childish behavior made you laugh “I should be getting out now.” Enid passed you the towel and you took it from his head.Covering your body you reached for the doorknob, but it opened too easy. Suddenly you felt a body fall on top of you and collapse into he bath again.You looked up and noticed Namjoon’s eyes, his face red inches away from yours and his body just a few millimeter away from the towel.No one said anything. Yet what was happening behind him was a totally different story.His body flew up in the air.

“What is this dark magic all of a sudden!?”he asked looking around shocked. The door closed and you pulled the towel closer to your body, trying to hide any exposed by chance skin. “I am really sorry. I promise I didn’t see your smooth skin, I mean!.....can you let me down?”

“It’s not me, it’s my familiar.”

“Fine.”Namjoon summoned his, it was an owl just like Onyx’s but lighter in color. His familiar tried to remove the spell ,but it was too difficult for him, Enid’s powers are far greater than that of such a pet. “What is going on Moon?”he asked, but owl shook his head “Can you ask him to let me down?”

“He won’t listen to me, even if he does you still would have another problem.”

“I rather take my chance with the other thing.” 

  The bird made a loud sound and disappeared. “Moon!”he gasped noticing the white animal below him.

   I don’t like birds that much.But I hear you would like to take your chances with me and not Enid. Bad choice.

 Nerin licked her paws and placed one of them onto your body, creating clothes that weren’t just a small towel, able to cover absolutely nothing. 

“First, did that cat just talk?Second why is there a cat here?”

  You sighed and got up “Let him down Enid. I think we should tell him.”

 A few moments later you were in your room and he was sitting onto your bed. You told him everything that you deemed as important.

“I am still amazed you can use white and dark spells.That is amazing!”he grabbed your shoulder, but after a growl he let go “Sorry, I was too exited.My bad.”

“I was born like this, so it isn’t anything cool in my opinion.” you scratched your neck

“What are we going to do about school though?”he looked at the carpet with a thinking look in his eyes

“What do you mean?” you asked him

“Well you can’t use magic there.”

“What!Why?”

“Most humans can’t and don’t know it even exists.”he stood up and patted your back “Don’t worry we will talk about this tomorrow.”

“Wait!”he closed the door behind himself and left fast. You couldn’t sleep well, his world were echoing in your head all night. A place where you couldn’t use even a tiny bit of your magic or the shortest spell.That was stupid! Somewhere in between thinking you fell asleep. The morning sun soothed your skin and gently woke you up. You found yourself in the standard position. Nerin sleeping onto your belly and Enid next to you on the floor.

  You got up careful not to wake them up and chanced into the clothes you were supposed to wear at school. After breakfast, you and Namjoon left the house.

“Are you ready for your first day?”he asked

“More or less, yes.” you were exited, but a bit worried at the same time, there was this uneasy feeling you couldn’t explain 

“Don’t worry, if you need something tell me.” he left you in front of your classroom before the bell rang “I am the class next to you. Be careful ok?”

“Why are you saying it like I am about to meet someone scary.”you laughed out and petted his back

“Just saying. Ok good luck.” he entered his room and left you alone in the corridor 

  You took a deep breath and entered.The teacher asked you to introduce yourself in front of the class, normal stuff for a transfer student.

“Nice to meet you everyone.”you bowed, but the moment your head came back up your eyes locked with a boy in the back of the room. His gaze was piercing, almost taking your breath away.His hair dark brow, his eyes alluring. If you didn’t know better you would have said that he casted a spell on you. Your heart was beating fast, but you didn’t know if it was fear or...something else.

  The teacher asked you to sit down and ironically your seat was next to him.You tried your best not to look, but ended up doing it in the end. The moment you turned your head just a bit your eyes met again.

“Hey.”he said with a smooth voice, hypnotizing you slowly “Names Jung Hoseok. Nice to meet you Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you too.”you said

  During history the teacher asked you to come in front of the class.

“Everyone, you might not know this ,but Y/N actually comes from Salem.You know a lot about the witch history don’t you?”you nodded “Would it be ok if the class asks you some questions?”

“No problem.I would be happy to answer.” there were normal ones and strange ones too, but the one that caught you was his.Hoseok raised his hand.

“Yes?”asked the teacher 

“Do the people of Salem still believe in magic?”he looked at you

“Well it is a part of the history.” you answered 

“Let me rephrase it. Do the people still practice it?”  

“It was all a hoax.”laughed out the teacher 

“I wasn’t asking you miss.”his eyes never left your body.Were you turning red?

“How rude.”she said 

  The moment the bell rang you noticed Namjoon at the door of your class.You ran up to him as fast as you could, trying to stay away from Hoseok, unknowing why yourself.

“What is wrong?”he asked looking at you

“Nothing, let’s go and get something to eat.” as you walked past him, Namjoon spotted Hoseok.Their eyes met, it was like an unspoken message went to both of them.He smirked at the tall boy and got up leaving the class as well.Namjoon had a strange feeling and went to find you fast. 

 How much does Hoseok know?What is the Elder Mother planning and why were you in this mess? There was one more question, but you haven’t noticed it yet to ask......what is in the box, or should I say what is the box?