#there's also some other person with a straw hat and a chain necklace

[hockpock]

Okay so I don't know what this being's deal is (model influencer indie designer ???)

but the vibes of these photos from Japanese Fashion week ...

WEN NING GOES TO FASHION WEEK

[saimotass]

headcanons for the survivors of each game taking tokens from the dead

Makoto Naegi - takes Sayaka's hairclips and Leon's padlock necklace. he takes Sayaka's hair clips as a means of remembering her as a friend, and Leon's necklace as a reminder of what humanity is capable of, both good and bad. it's a bit of a mix of good and bad reminders.

Kyouko Kirigiri - takes Junko's Monokuma hairclips, mostly as a prize. she wants to remember what she went through and how it made her stronger, and also to remember that despite everything that she went through, she kept going.

Byakuya Togami - takes Chihiro's toolkit and Junko's tie. despite acting like he doesn't care, he really feels bad for what he did to Chihiro, and wants to remind himself of that guilt. Junko's tie is basically a war-prize, and sometimes he even wears it underneath his suits.

Aoi Asahina - takes Sakura's wraps. she never wore them, only keeping them as a memento of her closest friend. it's a reminder of the sacrifice that she made and the love she had in her heart for all of her classmates.

Yasuhiro Hagakure - takes shards of the crystal ball Leon used, and Hifumi's broken glasses. he spent good fucking money on that crystal ball and he's not gonna let that go to waste. but fr he just wants to have that reminder. honestly he just kinda grabbed Hifumi's glasses instinctually for some reason, and then ended up actually getting a pair similar to them later on.

Touko Fukawa - takes some of the rope from Chihiro's body and a shard of the bottle that hit Sakura. the shard was taken as Syo, but the rope was taken by her. it's a reminder of her guilt for hurting Sakura, as well as the stigma that came with being outed as having DID. after UDG she's holding on to one of Kotoko's devil horn headbands and a piece of leather from Jataro's mask.

Hajime Hinata - takes Nagito's jacket and Chiaki's hair clip. he feels responsible for the deaths of everyone in the Neo World Program, and as such probably took little trinkets from every single case, but he particularly wanted to keep Nagito and Chiaki close to him.

Akane Owari - takes some of Nekomaru's chains, and holds on to a skewer of Teruteru's. Nekomaru's chains are a reminder of him and their friendship, whereas she really doesn't like Teruteru, but she enjoyed his food so much that she almost missed him by proxy.

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu - takes Peko's bamboo sword and one of Ibuki's guitar picks. he also probably has a photo from Mahiru. all of them are guilt-based memoirs. he feels guilty for being rude to Ibuki after she held an entire concert in his honor, which is why he keeps one of her picks with him.

Sonia Nevermind - takes Gundam's scarf (along with the Dark Devas) and Chiaki's hoodie. they were two of her closest friends, and she wants to remember them always. she promised to take care of the Devas, and has been such a good owner to them since.

Kazuichi Souda - takes a piece of Mechamaru and Gundam's earring. as much as he wants to say that he hated Gundam, he really did think that they could've been good friends, and feels guilty for putting Sonia and Gundam under so much stress and scrutiny for being close. he also really wanted to keep a part of Nekomaru, and felt like keeping a piece of Mechamaru was best.

Komaru Naegi - takes Nagisa's scarf, Masaru's headphones, and Yuta's jacket. she also keeps a pair of Syo's scissors, despite Syo still being alive. she was tempted to keep Monaca's headband, but decided against it.

Kyousuke Munakata - takes Juzo's jacket and the knife that Chisa used to stab herself. they're both his personal reminders that he can't save everyone, even if they're close to him. he also uses them to remind himself about the love that comes from others, and how despite all of his wrongdoings, he deserves it.

Ryouta Mitarai - takes Tengan's coat and Bandai's straw hat. he keeps Tengan's coat despite knowing that he had manipulated him into trying to brainwash the world, simply because he still feels guilty. Bandai's hat is just a reminder of the kindness in the world, and the hope that exists without needing to implant it.

Shuuichi Saihara - takes Kaito's jacket and Kaede's hair clips. for the v3 survivors, i equate them with 3 ways of coping with trauma. Shuuichi is reminiscence, and is by far the healthiest of the 3, keeping Kaito and Kaede with him as a reminder to keep pushing forward and to make the world a better place.

Maki Harukawa - takes Hoshi's hat and Ouma's neck kerchief. Maki is repentance, and is the least healthy in terms of coping. she feels like she condemned them both to death, and has that on her conscience almost always. she wanted to take something of Kaito's, but decided against it, as a way of keeping herself in pain, almost.

Himiko Yumeno - takes Angie's jacket and Tenko's hair accessory. Himiko is regret, and is coping in a regressive manner. she feels guilty for not spending more time and being nicer to Tenko, and feels sad that her close friendship with Angie made her a target in Korekiyo's eyes. she thought about taking Shinguuji's mask, but decided against it after realizing that it would make her taking Angie and Tenko's keepsakes feel less impactful.

[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.  

[wot-tidbits]

RJ’s notes Part 55 by Linda Taglieri

SOURCE PART 1

SOURCE PART 2

Costumes in the Wheel of Time

Ebou Dar

Ebou Dari clothing can be quite revealing, especially during the Festival of Birds. Colours are used to a great extent among both sexes. Embroidery is colourful, detailed and elaborate, more so among nobles and the wealthy, and usually features flowers and animals. Cuffs, lapels, collars and necklines are common locations, also along the hems of women’s skirts, bordering the area that is worn raised.

The wealthy and nobility wear embroidered or brocaded silk often set with jewels, and gold, while the poor and lower classes wear wool or linen set with brass and glass. The everyday garments of those people doing manual labour usually have shorter sleeves than nobles, or even none.

The Ebou Dari carry a dagger with an 8‒9 inch (20‒22cm) blade for a weapon and, often, especially commoners, a work knife with a blade of 3‒5 inches (8‒12cm).

Women’s clothes can be very colourful. The women wear dresses with a tight bodice and full skirt over brightly contrasting petticoats. To show off the petticoats, the skirts of noblewomen are raised in the front and may have a long train behind, and those of the commoners are sewn up above one knee.

“These dresses wouldn’t reach the ground properly if lowered, they do trail or nearly trail the ground behind, and are sometimes long enough to require a servant to manage them, though this is considered excessive by most women.”

While noblewomen always wear petticoats, the commoners’ dresses sometimes:

“are worn without petticoats or long shift, exposing the legs or stockings; among commoners this is considered less risqué than wearing the dress sewn high with petticoats.”

“Upper class women often have sleeves with long points or lace that would cover hand if lowered (no manual labour). Sometimes wear a version of the men’s jacket, as part of riding costume, though for them it is most likely decorated with lace.”

Outside, coloured wide-brimmed straw hats—often with veiling around the edges for the wealthy—tied on with ribbons may be worn (A Crown of Swords, A Note from the Palace), “or versions of men’s hats, but in bright colours, often with feathers or plumes added, or flowers made of silk.”

Women soon to marry wear a wide close-fitting metal necklace from which their marriage knife will hang hilt-down once they marry. The knife has a 4 inch (10cm) blade.

The sheath of a widow intending to remarry is blue, if she is not, it is white. Married women with a husband living have a green sheath, while a married woman who has "forbidden her husband the house" (separated or divorced) and has no further interest in him or another man has a red sheath. If she is divorced and willing to try again, her sheath is red and blue.

Noblemen wear their hair shoulder length and also wear velvet hats, often with a high crown and wide brim (A Crown of Swords, White Plumes). The brim may be turned up at the sides. Low crowned hats are also worn. The hats are a darker colour that complements their clothes. Lower class men wear their hair short, and don’t wear hats, except occasionally, straw hats.

CAIRHIEN

Women in Cairhien wear dark-coloured, high-necked dresses unless they live in the Foregate (see below). Upper class women may wear brocades, but they would be monochrome and not two or more colours, while lower class women wear unadorned dark fabrics. Showing the cleavage slightly is considered daring, any more is considered indecent. Some women thread a fine golden chain through their hair from which hangs a small clear stone centred on their forehead just above their eyebrows, the kesiera. In the main series, these were no longer as fashionable, and not much worn.

GHEALDAN

Fringes are a popular ornamentation of dress, accessories and reins, bridles, and saddle cloth. Saddles are mounted with gold and/or silver among the nobles and the wealthy.

Women: have dresses embellished with lace and embroidery. A recent fashion amoung noblewomen and the wealthy well-to-do is a “ruff that stands up in back and is open in the front, thus making a wide standing collar. Newest fashion in women's dresses is very low-cut, but with a border of lace that provides decency while suggesting that all might be visible.”

Some noblewomen wear a veil which covers the entire head like a kerchief, held by various means. This is an old style, just coming back into fashion.

Noblewomen's slippers, shoes and boots may have high heels, which can induce a swaying walk. Noblemen can and do wear heels also. Both men and women sometimes wear beauty spots among the nobles and merchants.

Men: wear embroidered coats. Noblemen and well-to-do merchants wear small lace ruffs.

ILLIAN

There can be elaborate standing collars on women's dresses, sometimes almost high enough to hide her head, in a formal gown. A standing collar that rose to the level of the bottom of the ear would be about average.

MALKIER

The ki’sain is blue for an unmarried woman (New Spring, An Answer), red for a married (Winter’s Heart, Sea Folk and Kin) and white for a widow (New Spring, Keeping Custom).

“In death, she would be marked with all three, one of each color, whether she had ever married or not.”

“A Malkieri woman paints the ki’sain on each morning in pledge that she has sworn, or will swear, her sons to fight the shadow and she herself would oppose the Shadow every way she could.”

MURANDY

Men: wear high crowned hats (The Fires of Heaven, The Nine Horse Hitch), and long bright knee-length coats (Lord of Chaos, A Different Dance), “often very elaborately embroidered, and with an Andoran-style high collar.” Murandian men occasionally wear a single earring, which may contain a jewel, or a piece of colored glass if they can't afford jewels.

SALDEA

Women: wear a very high-necked dress with long or wide sleeves and narrow skirts. Skirts reach just above the floor Highborn women usually wear fine embroidery on their dress: this can range from very simple to very intricate, from trim on the neckline, collar and perhaps hem of the skirt, to broad bands that cover the shoulders, bodice and sleeves and rise a quarter to a third of the way up the skirt.

Noblemen frequently grow long, thick beards that reach down their chest.

SEA FOLK

Sea Folk women wear considerably more jewellery than men. No rings or bracelets, however, because these might catch in the rigging.

Tattoos are important indicators for Sea Folk, especially on the hands: a six-pointed star is tattooed on the web between thumb and forefinger of the right hand. It is a: symbol of the covenant with the Coramoor; some believe it makes you less likely to drown. Some of the other taboos on the right hand are, in effect, your official record, showing what ships you have served on, what posts and positions you have held.

Windfinders have a three-pointed star on the back of their right hand.

Men do not wear the nose ring or honour chain and medallions.A single earing indicates someone out of training, someone who knows his or her way around the ship and basic duties.

Cargomasters: wear loose silk breeches of one colour and a narrow matching sash that is elaborately tied. Daggers are ofen carried thrust into the sash, but they will not carry a sword unless action is imminent. Cargomasters usually have three gold earrings in each ear.

A Swordmaster has 8 thick earrings.

Master of the Blades: wears silk breeches of more than one colour held up by a long, intricately knotted bright red sash, 10 earrings.

Someone out of training, who knows their basic duties and their way around the ship has a single earring.

Sailmistresses of Darters wear linen blouses and coloured trousers and a few earrings. They have an honour chain connecting their earrings to their nose ring, but only a few medallions on it (Knife of Dreams, To Make an Anchor Weep). “Few women below the rank of Sailmistress of a ship and her Windfinder have the chain and medallions.  These medallions can identify rank, among other things, such as being Wavemistress of a particular clan, or of a particular ship, as well as clan and familial relationships. The chain always loops across the left cheek.”

“The number of earrings and medallions can vary downward over time as well as upward. Someone who is Windfinder to a Clan Wavemistress or to the Mistress of the Ships is required to start over again at the bottom with the death of the woman she serves. Also, if a Sailmistress dies, the new Sailmistresss of that vessel may keep on the old Windfinder, but she may already have one or may wish another, in which case the old Windfinder must start over again at the bottom and work her way back up. Her earrings are reduced in number accordingly, and she must pack away most of the medallions. They aren't taken from her; she just can't wear them any longer. This is in part because of the Sea folk awareness that Windfinders who can channel live a very long time, and helps preclude the possibility that a Windfinder will remain at a very high level while surviving a number of Wavemistresses or Mistresses of the Ships. It also makes room for those at lower makes to move up.”

Sailmistresses: Usually wear silk in an outfit all one colour, plain silk for the smaller vessels, brocaded for larger, with a matching narrow sash that is elaboratedly tied.

SEANCHAN

Personal public nudity lowers the eyes of a Seanchan, since those who are scantily clad are at the bottom of social pecking order. However, in private, there is nothing embarrassing about servants or da’covale seeing their employer/owner naked, and the Blood and the wealthy are quite confirtable being unclothed in front of their servants and/or da'covale of whatever gender.

The nobility shave their heads in varying degrees, symmetrically. (Asymmetrical shaving is the sign of a servant, a so'jhin.)

“Those of the highest level of the High Blood are called High Lady or High Lord and lacquer the first two fingernails on each hand. Those of the next level of the High Blood are called simply Lord or Lady and lacquer only the nails of the forefingers. Those of the low Blood also are called simply Lady or Lord, but those of the higher rank lacquer the nails of the last two fingers on each hand, while those on the lowest level lacquer only the nails of the little fingers. The Empress and immediate members of the Imperial family...lacquer all of their fingernails.”

Da’covale:

Beautiful slaves wear loose-fitting transparent white robes with nothing on underneath, and white slippers indoors. Shea dancers are perhaps the most extreme example, wearing transparent face veils and little else (The Shadow Rising, Hidden Faces). Less physically attractive da’covale wear more ordinary livery.

SHIENAR

Women: wear fairly modest belted dresses with medium to high necklines. Those of the wealhy are embroidered in flowers on the bodice or sleeves and perhaps also on the shoulders, but rarely on the skirts. On the whole, Shienaran women don’t wear much jewellery, even the wealthy.

Shienaran merchants and craftsmen usually wear their hair cut short of the shoulder.

TEAR

Serving women in Tear wear a dark coloured dress and short white apron.

(Or you know just read the two parts article in the blog. It is amazing... and huge.)

[sintheyokai]

Time to tell us about your OCs!

Ah! Yes!

Okay so the main four of which I use on my blog arrrreeee:

Hatie Celeste Dark: Hatie is the 12 year old granddaughter of Hades and is the heiress to both the throne of Hell and her mother's throne, the throne of the Alizian (uh-LEE-see-EN) star sector. Her parents were a dark angel named Necro (father) and a star named Pyrene (mother). She has a little brother named Hitcelo (who goes by Hit) who is four years younger than her. When she was four and Hit had just been born, her mother was crushed by a boulder sent flying into the hospital from the current war. Necro attempted to push the boulder off his wife, but he was struck by lightning from the storm going on (wings acted like a lightning rod). Now alone and untrusting of her family, Hatie cares for Hit, getting help from her cousin. After about a year or two of looking after Hit, Hatie gains a spirit animal: a Plutonian moon fox (literally a fox from one of Pluto's moons) named Moonblink. She is an OC for Kid Icarus and my very first OC. She has long black hair (middle back length), has emotionless blue eyes, is tan, and wears a deep blue Victorian themed ballgown.

Charanalik Kinara: Chara, as she is called, is Hatie's cousin. She is nine and the princess of the Mizaroqin (MEE-zuh-ROH-hûwin) star sector. Her kingdom is a brutal slaughterhouse and a literal black hole, with thousands of deaths and assaults daily (or even hourly). Chara is no exception to the madness, and will grow twisted, vile and cruel if not given her way in some situations. She is the hostess to the Chaos Kin, which tortured her for three years (3 yrs. old-6 yrs. old) in the Chaos Vortex. She managed to pull through, but she is forever broken. If her hair is ever let down out of it's ponytail, she will go completely psycho and slaughter anything in her path. She is the first OC I made that was black (most of mine, I realize even today, are white or tan. I've been fixing the issue however!). She has pink hair, blood red eyes, and wears a simple pink crop top, green short shorts, knee high blue socks and neon purple boots. ***The Chaos Kin and the Chaos Vortex are not mine! They belong to Nintendo and Kid Icarus Uprising

Sin/Sakura Uradai: Sin originally started as Sin, and was a yokai (spirit, aka she's dead) based off of teenage rebellion. Her design was simple: Boyish purple hair, a tank top, denim vest, short shorts, and boots. Over time, I added on. Half of her left arm was replaced by torn flesh to reveal bone, an eyepatch to cover her mismatched eyes (lime green and mauve; green was often covered but both eyes worked), a chain necklace. I also added to her story: I had previously given her siblings of whom she tortured, but I never gave a reason. So I built up: she was drunk and possessed by a wicked yokai which caused her to brutally murder them. Later, I added that she committed suicide via poison after chopping her arm off to atone her deed. I built up more: Her original name was Sakura Uradai, part of the famous Uradai family (famous for their beautiful blue eyes). She was always a wild child, a party animal, a drinker, even in ancient Japan era. She had a small group of friends: Kitsudon Oreyaga, Kaneyashi Renoa, Ping Yon, Amaika Shishi, Tetsu Doro. She was happy until she was possessed. She then murdered her family, and was relieved to be imprisoned, until the next morning where she discovered that Kitsudon fell off the village cliff getting flowers for someone (the flowers were for Sakura, but she didn't know then). Everyone fell from then on: Sakura chopped half her arm off and swallowed rat poison; Ping Yon died peacefully of illness; Amaika was crushed in a rockslide; Tetsu shot himself in the head. Sin puts on the facade of a ride-or-die party goer, but in truth is very depressed because she has not seen her friends in the afterlife. **Her friends have become Wicked yokai, the very thing that possessed Sakura. She believes they only look similar to her friends to torture her. ***The Wicked yokai are not mine! They belong to Level-5 and Yokai Watch 2

Merry Melody Going: The Going Merry reincarnated, Merry lives with her siblings (all reincarnated ships) on the island of Hanashoko. They run an inn that serves as a restaurant, tavern, and daycare. Merry has cute blonde curls (think afro but one that actually looks good on a white person) and small ram horns. She has big blue doe eyes and a sleeveless dress of the same shade. She is good at a variety of tasks and can work surprisingly well under pressure. She barely remembers her past life with the Straw Hat pirates, only catching vague glimpses on occasion. She can control water and will shoot up geysers if frustrated too much. ***The Straw Hat pirates are not mine! They belong to Eichiro Oda and the One Piece franchise.

But yeah, that's all I use in blog. I have a

TON

of others that, if I tried to label, god fucking KNOWS how long this post would be (let's just say, @monteberris , you'd be waiting a LONG time to be answered)

[thegoronman-blog]

The Island

Hey Tumblr, I’m mostly up in here to post about writing and other stuff I make. My big thing is writing, and it’s something I’ve always had an eye for. 

My first  creation here is an odd prompt we had for creative writing I go off of with the name of the Island. We drew straws from a hat and got three things to work with, and a location. I got a poleaxe, a pickle, and some bones for some guy on an island surrounded by an electric fence that nobody could get past. 

I was taking physics that year, and our teacher had done a demonstration about how pickles could conduct electricity, so I used that, I hope you enjoy. 

I woke with a start. I screamed in my mind and then out loud. All i could see for miles around was fog. Where the hell was I!? I forgot to breathe and clutched my chest. I thought to myself for a moment. What happened last night?

Oh right

I said that i’d go for one drink.

Well regardless, I was on a island in the middle of nowhere with nothing but zombie smoke to look me in the eye. I began to wonder when the fog would clear. Stress was cascading through my arms now, and I realized where I was. The ground around me was all dirt, no grass. There were boulders and other stones complimented by trees that appeared to rise infinitely into the sky. Moss grew on these rocks, and the dirt was so moist and fertile that you could toss a flower seed onto the ground and it would grow naturally within days. I thought to myself again. Where was I? The landmarks I had were christmas trees, boulders, and grassless soil. I had to be somewhere up north, because nowhere else is there fog and big trees all at once. I decided to run for a while. Who knew where I really was? The edge of the island would surely tell me, there could be land, or people outside of it. I was starting to get my hopes up, when after about an hour of running or so I met the edge of the island. Or rather the edge of the island met me, as a massive wave leapt out of the water almost to hi-five me as I soon realized that the island I was on was elevated by a tall cliff face that was victim to crashing waves slurping away its rocky face. The fog on the island began to clear around the edges and it became easier to see, a luxury I desperately needed because that fog was incredibly thick. I stare out at the skyline. There was nothing at all for miles. I screamed to myself. I then cried for about five minutes as I soon realized that I had to have been all alone in this place. After I got myself back together, I took to both of my feet and turned into the forest. I could see my breathing, which was such a strange phenomenon to me because back home it was never cold enough for this kind of condition. I started feeling cold though, and I desperately needed warmth.

It was late into the morning when my hangover began to end a little bit and it became somewhat easier to think to myself. I had made a fire out of a few sticks lucky for me, because nothing on this damn island was dry except for the few sticks i found hiding under rocks. I thought to myself. If most of the world was charted, then how come I had never really heard of this place? I had read my fair share of maps, and never really heard of any pacific northwestern islands that were so far away from anything that you couldn’t see land off of it. I felt the chain around my neck grow cold. I ripped my necklace off and stared at it. It had been a gift from my soccer teacher when I was young. She had always reminded me to kick with the inside of my foot instead of the toe for the least amount of pain when punting it. She had always looked out for me adequately, a little more than the other boys during practice in fact. Whenever I cut my legs from sliding too hard on the grass, she would always patch me up herself before directing the rest of practice. It was some of the only maternal affection I had ever had. Mother had died when I was little and

A twig snapped.

The necklace fell from my hand as I rose to meet the sound. I shouted some gibberish at the top of my lungs and nothing replied. I turned around. Nothing there. But I felt called by the forest to move deeper into its bowels. I walked slowly and cautiously. It sounded like there was some strange kind of mongolian singing going on as I went. Then there it was, hanging from a tree and sticking out like a sore thumb, it was a massive bone that obviously belonged to the ribcage of some massive, dead thing. I went forwards softly stepping as I went. More bones began to appear as I stepped through the colossal forest, that seemed to deepen with every movement I took. Some of the bones were strewn about in the ground, some were stuck in the trees. Often they were suspended by ropes and grappling hooks. The singing in my mind grew continually louder as I reached its loudest point. The skull of some huge dead animal. By the soft contours on its surface, and the texture and shape of its teeth, I assumed it was a whale. Below it, a box. I knelt down to the box, wooden, with a tiny metal lock to guard whatever assuredly valuable treasure it held within. I picked it up, and opened it. The chanting stopped abruptly and my face was greeted with... a pickle. I laughed to myself, thinking that there was no way someone set up all of this and left only a pickle behind. And what was with the chanting from before? Was it only my mind? Or something making noise. I looked all around the monument and found nothing. Trippy. Must’ve been something to do with my hangover. I guessed it wasn’t over.

Early into the afternoon I got bored and started chucking rocks out to sea. One was big and heavy, and sunk just as well. One was light and curved, and made a small attempt to float on the surface before sinking right below. Finally, there was a smooth stone with perfect mass and ideal surface area that I chuckled as well as I could into the now tranquil sea. It skipped gloriously, one time, then two times, then three, four, five, six, and it would have made seven if not for the gigantic invisible electric fence that stood out where the open sea would begin. I scratched my head. Why is there an invisible electric fence, a pickle guarded by whale bones, and all in the pacific northwest. Some crazy person must be making my story or something. I threw a few more rocks at the fence to assure myself that I wasn’t hallucinating the electric spark that I had seen just before. I was right, there was most certainly some kind of invisible wall before me.

The day grew into a dark one, and I grew tired of the island. I needed a way off. But there was a huge fence blocking my exit, and no way to bring it down. I stared at the pickle that I had received earlier. It had a surprising amount of vinegar in it. I didn’t try it, though, I hated pickles. I hatched an idea. The huge whalebones I had seen before were all strung up. I could probably use the string to put the bones together and create a raft of some whalebone. But there was one issue, I had no way to get the string down from the tops of the trees. All had seemed lost.

I slept believing that I would die on the island.

I had a dream that it was a sunday, and that dad was making his world-famous pancakes for me before baseball practice. It wasn’t ideal, but it was a tradition, and traditions aren’t ruined by anyone but people who hate fun. At least, that’s how I saw it. The light of the morning shone behind my dad as he wiped sweat from his brow and picked me up with both arms. He would always look me in the eyes and say “You’re my son,” to himself. Nothing was better than hearing those words.

As I realized that I was laying on the incredibly fertile soil of the pacific northwest, I also found that my cheeks had been streaked by water, as if I had been crying. There was no way that could have happened, I told myself, as I rose to my feet by command of my stomach. It was breakfast time.

I was ripping through the corpse of a particularly fat squirrel I had found when i noticed something. There was an axe stuck in a tree nearby. As I got closer to it, I realized it wasn’t any old axe, but a poleaxe, rather. It had a spearhead, a weight on one end to balance it out, and an axe head on the other, that was filled with plenty of small knicks. The thing could do me well. It could even cut down the strings that held my whale bone. “AHA!”, I shouted, a lone man in the forest half naked and chewing on the innards of some dead and decaying thing.

The sun hit my forehead as my plan flew into action. The straps holding the whalebones had turned out to be quite sturdy, and it took all the force I could muster to cut them down. Rather hastily, I put my raft together, fastening the string into carvings I made into different ends of the bones, and making planks out of the flattened bones I had found. I did so until it looked seaworthy. It actually looked pretty cool all things considered. As for the poleaxe I had, i could use it as a paddle or, the far superior option, an oar. I also took a spare whalebone and both of those would be my way out. Using the incredible versatility of my poleaxe, I carved some wood bits into U shapes and tied them to the boat with all the strength I could muster. It was time to leave, but not before getting one thing. The pickle.

Staring out at the skyline, I knew that my raft had to suffice in my getaway. I stood, poleaxe and whalebone in both hands. I took my pickle in my hand and threw the whole vinegary mess up in the air. It was suspended for just a moment. I had one shot at this. I took my poleaxe and swung it on the hammer side as hard as I could. I was standing in a stadium as the announcer screamed “AND ITS GOING HOME”. I heard a whole crowd of parents angsty to go home cheering me on for giving them a reason to go. The game was sealed. There would be no more struggle for us.  My pickle made it to the electric fence and found itself stuck to a branch on the wall. Electricity rushed to the especially salty and vinegary pickle and I watched for what seemed like an eternity before the pickle was glowing a stunning bright orange, and blew a hole in the fence large enough for me to get through, thank god. Having overloaded the electric fence, I was now safe to bypass the electric water. Putting both of my sticks into my raft, I lept in and prayed to the lord that it would stay in one piece on my way down. Again, with incredible luck, it remained so. I breathed an incredible long sigh of relief, and rowed my boat eastward, into the infinite horizon, and whatever land beyond that might have awaited me.

[blustersquall]

Only Make Believe // Chapter 13: Safe and Solid

Please be advised that tumblr no longer allows posts with links to outgoing sites to appear in tags. So, to try and get around this, you can read this fic on AO3 by clicking on the source link at the bottom of the post. Alternatively, you can find the master post on my blog, with links to all chapters on tumblr, AO3, and ffnet.

December 21st, mid-afternoon

--

Cullen once believed he was quite good at buying gifts for women. Having two sisters helped, and in the past he managed to buy thoughtful, personal presents for his sisters, female friends, and old girlfriends without much of an issue.

Today he was willing to believe all those instances were flukes and that he just lucked out every time. Either that, or Nevena Trevelyan was frustratingly difficult to buy for, when her main gift was already a personalized, hard back edition of her favourite book. Everywhere he looked in Edgehall there were potential gifts he could buy, but none of them leapt out at him screaming that Nevena would like them.

So far all he had purchased was a photo frame, remembering the photograph of her and her sisters. He hoped maybe this new one might hold a photograph with a more fond memory. The frames itself was white wood with patterns carved out and filled in with a bright turquoise resin, the same sort of colour as some of the decor in her flat. He also bought her a scarf, because he was clutching at straws and was not entirely sure if she would even wear it. But it was something at the very least.

At that moment, he was eyeing up a necklace in the silversmith's stall at the market. There were an assortment of chains and delicate silver pieces laid out allowing customers to pick each and choose the charm and chain. Cullen was considering it, having spotted a dinosaur charm similar to the toy on her bed, but was still not certain. He worried that a necklace might be too much, too forward… but then, given they were pretending to be in a relationship, a necklace would be suitable. Wouldn’t it? He didn’t know, and that was half of his problem. They were friends, but their arrangement required gifts to demonstrate a more intimate relationship than that. He was trying to find gifts that were somewhere between the two relationship stages, and it was proving more difficult than he first imagined.

Stepping away from the silversmith's stall, telling himself he would think about it, he felt an insistent vibration in the back left pocket of his jeans. As he checked the screen to see if he recognised the number - he did not - he shifted out of the main thoroughfare of people to one side so not to get in the way. He did notice there were a number of missed calls on the screen though, and texts. He worried that it might have been an emergency, his sister trying to get hold of him perhaps.

Briefly clearing his throat, he put this phone to his ear, thinking it was a potential client.

"Hello?"

"Hi!" A woman's voice came through on the end, crisp and a little high pitched. Cullen thought he recognised it from somewhere. "Uh - is this Cullen? Rutherford?"

"Yes," Cullen answered. "If this is about a--"

"You probably won't remember me. My name is Roselyn Cousland-Theirin. I called you on behalf of my friend, Nevena Trevelyan?"

Cullen furrowed his brows. Why was Nevena's friend calling him? "I remember you. Nevena's brought you up a few times."

"Great," Roselyn said sharply. "Uhm, do you know where she is?"

"No..." Cullen's stomach plummeted to his feet and a cold sensation slithered through his body making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He took a calming breath. "She was coming into Edgehall with her sister."

"Which one?"

"Ineria. The oldest."

"Fuck," Roselyn snapped. "I had a feeling... Why the fuck did she agree to go anywhere with Ineria? Ineria is a... bitch."

Cullen began to walk to warm himself. "Ineria's daughter, Matilda, asked Nevena to speak to her. I think Nevena believed this would be the only opportunity where they would be alone."

"Makes sense." On the other end of the phone, Roselyn sighed loudly and Cullen could hear another voice and barking in the background. That was all he heard for a good thirty seconds before he lost his patience at being left, dangling, at the end of the phone.

"Roselyn!" he snapped, raising his voice a little in the hopes it might get Roselyn's attention. "I'm still here."

"I know," Roselyn snapped back. "I'm trying to think."

"What's going on?" demanded Cullen. "I'm in Edgehall right now. Is she okay? Did something happen? If she's told you where she is, I can go and find her."

"She's hasn't told me anything," sighed Roselyn. "I got a couple of garbled texts with some code words we set up when we were in college. If she's texting rather than calling, I can only assume she's in too much of a state to talk." The frustration in Roselyn's voice increased and she growled softly. "This is just like when Rick was stalking her and she would get scared. Shit."

Cullen stopped abruptly and blinked hard, his breath catching in his throat. "What?" Rick... stalked her? That was new. Cullen’s urge to find her grew tenfold.

"Nevermind," Roselyn huffed. "You said you're in Edgehall?"

"Right now." Cullen began to make his way through the crowds of people in the market, not entirely sure of a direction. Standing around wasn't helping, at least if he was moving he would feel more proactive and like he was doing something. "She hasn't said where she is?"

"No." A sigh. "Look, I'm going to keep you on the line. Chances are I can get her to give me some vague directions or landmarks near her location. If I give them to you, do you think you could find her?"

"I can certainly try," Cullen said. "Edgehall isn't huge, and if I don't know where something is, I'm sure someone will."

"Okay. I might go quiet for a bit."

Cullen continued to walk following the same path back and forth through the market while he held his phone to his ear, waiting for information. He heard a rustling sound, Roselyn's voice a bit further away and speaking to someone who wasn't him. It was hard to tell if she was typing a message or not, but Cullen could only assume she was from how frantic her voice was and how clearly she was worried.

He was worried now, too. He knew Nevena spending time alone with Ineria was a bad idea. Even if it was for the benefit for Matilda, he knew it his gut it would turn out poorly. Nevena said herself, Ineria could poke and prod at the most sensitive and personal parts of her. He worried about what state he might find Nevena in. Was she prone to panic attacks like he was? Or was she beside herself, and that's why she couldn't speak? He had more questions now too. Roselyn let something slip about Rick and it made Cullen's whole body go cold. The knowledge that Nevena was once stalked by him made Cullen dislike her ex even more than he already did.

Stomach churning over and over, Cullen tried to be patient while he waited for information from Roselyn. If Nevena was texting then at least she was coherent enough to do that. It wasn't much, but it was something. He hoped she was safe. Preferably with someone who could comfort her until he was there. Not that he was much good at comforting anyone, but he preferred the idea of her with someone than alone. She wasn't a child by any means, but the sense of protectiveness Cullen had towards her was overwhelming. At this point he was ready to take Nevena back to Denerim to protect her from her family, disregarding her own choice entirely.

Of course, there was the possibility that he was jumping to conclusions and that in fact he would find her a little tearful and weepy, but otherwise totally fine. That in fact he was cooking up the worst case scenario because that was what his mind did. Even if Nevena wasn't as bad as his mind painted, he would offer what little comfort he could, just for his own piece of mind.

He scratched and rubbed his chin repeatedly as he often did when worried, and wondered if he should begin his own search as the quiet dragged on the other end of the phone. He peered over the heads of passersby, hoping to catch a glimpse of a head of golden blonde hair. Or her hat. Had she been wearing a hat when she left the cabin that morning? He couldn't recall. In fact, the more he thought about it, Cullen couldn't recall anything she was wearing that morning, only that she took her satchel with her.

"Okay!" Cullen almost dropped his phone when Roselyn's voice came through. "I got some information out of her. It's vague."

"That's fine."

"She's inside the shopping centre," said Roselyn. "Do you know where it is?”"Yeah." Cullen began to walk in the direction of the building. He had yet to venture inside it, preferring the shops in the market place, but he knew where it was. It was the building on top of where he parked his car when he arrived earlier. His strides were long and purposeful - something in his expression must have given away his intent as he noticed people parting to let him pass. "Anything else?"

"A hallway, she thinks she's on the second floor where the food court is. And... she says she can see a green sign which says something 'outdoors'."

"Alright."

Cullen kept Roselyn on the line as he walked. She continued to feed him information from brief texts she was receiving from Nevena, all information that was useful in locating her in the hive of people and noise. The shopping centre was unpleasantly warm by comparison to outside, and the festive music drowned out a lot of Roselyn's voice causing Cullen to have to plug his other ear when she spoke. Inside, the masses of people didn't move when he walked. Often he was forced to weave and jostle around groups of people crowded around shop windows.

Eyes scanning every direction possible for a hint of green, Cullen realised suddenly just how many shops used green in their signage. He focused on looking for outdoor shops, or stores that specialised in outdoor activities. Those were few and far between and he was able to narrow it down after stopping and asking a security guard.

The store in question was a small one, tucked onto the end of a long parade of shops on the second floor. It was for camping gear and equipment. Opposite the camping store was a corridor with lower lighting than the main shopping centre. There were signs indicating the way to a fire exit and stairs but there was little else. One end was barred by double doors with the words 'emergency exit' on a large sign hanging above it in red. Cullen assumed the corridor wasn't used much or saw much foot traffic and that was why Nevena chose it to take refuge in.

He was gladdened to see she wasn't alone. A woman was with her, not quite kneeling on the floor. Cullen could hear her offering a few soft murmurs as he drew closer.

"Roselyn?" Cullen spoke into his phone. "I found her."

"Is she okay?"

"I don't know yet," Cullen approached "Let me call you back in a bit."

He hung up before Roselyn's spoke again and slid his phone into his back pocket. His steps were slow, and the woman with Nevena glanced over her shoulder when he was speaking to Roselyn. He tried to smile at the woman, who quickly turned her attention back to Nevena to inform her that there was someone else there.

When he was close enough, Cullen put the few items he bought to one side and dropped to be on the same level as Nevena and the middle-aged woman. Up close he could see Nevena was trembling, her cheeks were bright red, and her eyes were puffy from crying. The back of her right  hand was marked with fierce scratches and a few dried streaks of blood. There was a pile of tissues next to her, torn up into tiny fragments. Her breathing was short and shallow, she sniffled occasionally, and her hair was a mussed nest, tangled around her face and shoulders.

Without a word, Cullen inched closer and reached out one hand. He ran his fingers along the back of Nevena's hand approaching slowly. He traced the angry red marks her nails had made with the tips of his fingers before lacing his between her own. The middle aged woman watched him with hawk-like alertness, examining his every move.

"Do you know this man, honey?" she asked Nevena, her eyes never leaving Cullen's face.

Cullen couldn't blame the woman for being protective or not trusting him. There were sick people in the world who would take advantage of an opportunity like this. Asking Nevena made more sense than asking him. He could lie. So could Nevena, of course, but in the state she was in now, Cullen doubted it would even cross her mind.

"Y-yeah." Nevena nodded once and a brief, weak smile came to her lips. She looked at Cullen, eyes meeting his and then dropping to the floor. She was embarrassed, just as he had been when they were in the cable car when they went skiing. "He... He's..."

"I'm her boyfriend." Cullen gently gripped Nevena's hand. Saying that would mean less questions from Nevena's good Samaritan. "Do you know what happened?" he asked the woman.

"Not really." The woman shook her head. She was in her late-fifties at least, but dressed younger. Glamorous, a round face, and pink cheeks. Her hair was a sandy colour, clearly not natural, but it suited her. "I was coming down from the break room after finishing my shift when I found her." She explained. "I was about to head home, but she was in a terrible state. Crying and hyperventilating. I managed to get her to calm down a bit, but she wouldn't let me call one of our first aiders. Said it's just a dizzy spell, and it will pass..." The woman looked uncomfortable. "I didn't want to make things worse by gathering more people, so I decided to stay until she felt better."

"M'sorry," Nevena mumbled.

"Thank you," Cullen added, "for being on hand and respecting her wishes. I think more people would have made the whole thing worse." He shifted his position to sit on the floor. The cold tiles chilled his backside through his jeans and the bottom of his back complained against the hard floor. "She texted me earlier. We were meant to meet," he lied, and it came so easily he was a little surprised. "When she didn't turn up I went looking."

"Has this happened before?" asked the woman.

"Not since I've known her." Cullen pushed some of Nevena's hair back from her face and behind her ear. Her mouth quirked and she met his eyes for an instant. He didn’t even think about when it he pressed his lips to her forehead. The relief of finding her felt wonderful. A wash of coolness washing away the panic. "We're staying in Haven. I'll wait for her to calm down a bit more and then we'll head back."

"Okay." The security guard shifted away and began to gather up her things. She pulled out a small notepad, jotted something down on a page and tore that out. She folded it, and handed it to Cullen. It was a telephone number. "Give give me a call and let me know she's okay," the woman said. "Otherwise I'll be worrying all night about her."

"Will do." Cullen smiled, grateful. He folded the number and slid it into his back pocket. He knew he was unlikely to call but it seemed impolite to refuse. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." The woman patted Nevena's shoulder gently. Cullen noticed that Nevena flinched away slightly from the woman’s outstretched hand. He tightened his hold on her hand and ran his thumb over her knuckles. "Feel better, okay sweetie?"

Nevena nodded. "Thanks," she croaked out.

Cullen released a long breath through his nose once the woman was gone and the only people left in the corridor were himself and Nevena. He slid along the floor until he was sitting beside her, his back against the wall and his legs stretched out before him. Aside from taking her hand, he did and said nothing. He tilted his head back and counted the tiles on the ceiling, waiting. He would not pressure her to talk if she didn't want to. He only wanted her to be calm enough that they might be able to make it back to the cabin and to more familiar surroundings.

Nevena's breaths slowed and deepened gradually. Occasionally her fingers tightened around his hand and Cullen reciprocated the grip.

"What are you even doing here?" Nevena asked after a long silence. Her voice was strained and she cleared her throat a few times, swallowing thickly. "You were up at the cabin."

"I was," Cullen said. "I came into Edgehall to get some things."

"Oh..." Nevena wiped her eyes. "How did you know where to find me?"

"Roselyn called me. I guess she still had my number from when she called me the day we met." Cullen turned his head to look at Nevena. She was staring down into her lap. "She told me you texted her a code word and given that she's in Denerim... figured it made more sense for me to come and find you."

"Makes sense," Nevena murmured. She ran her a hand through her hair. Her fingers were trembling and her skin was cold. "I feel so stupid."

"What happened?" asked Cullen. Nevena's head rose, turned sharply and her eyes met his. "If you don't mind me asking."

"Ineria," Nevena said with a weak smile. "Ineria happened. Like she always happens.”

"Can you… elaborate for me?"

"She got upset that I was trying to give her advice about Matilda," explained Nevena, her voice still strained. "I probably went about it the wrong way. She started saying how I shouldn't have an opinion, given I don't have a family of my own. And that no one wanted me. Or wants me." Nevena scoffed and she leaned her head back against the wall, closing her eyes. "Thing is... She's not completely wrong, either."

Cullen watched and waited for her to continue. He wanted to interject, to tell her Ineria was a liar who didn’t know what she was talking about. He wanted to tell her she  was wanted. To tell her that he wanted her, but he stopped himself. He didn’t think speaking up or ask questions, though they burned on his tongue would be helpful. More likely doing so might cause Nevena to close up and bottle everything away. He wanted to help, and being silent for now, letting her say whatever was necessary would help.

"I got upset. Stupid, really."

Cullen shifted. "Where is Ineria now?"

"Gone back to Haven, I imagine," sighed Nevena. "After we... said our pieces, she left. I assume stranding me in Edgehall was part of the plan. I could’ve gotten a taxi but..."

"Kind of hard when you're hardly able to speak?"

"Yeah." Nevena smiled a little, she cracked an eye open for a moment before closing it again and releasing a shuddering breath. "Something like that, I suppose."

"How did you get here?" Cullen looked around the dingy hallway.

"I... ran. I think." He saw Nevena's brows scrunch up. "It's a blur. After Ineria left I... I was upset. I felt like I couldn't breathe. I wanted to find somewhere private to get myself together but... with the people and everything... I think I fell over."

"Panic attack?"

She shook her head. "Anxiety. I was diagnosed with it about two years ago. I can keep it under control. Mostly." Her breath shook a little. "It's just... Oh, I don't know." Nevena pulled her legs up into her chest and pressed her forehead against her knees. She still gripped Cullen's hand with her left, and her right arm came up to cuddle her legs. "I made such a fuss. And I had to text Roselyn. It's so humiliating."

"Nothing to be embarrassed about." Cullen moved closer. He slid his fingers from Nevena's hand and tentatively slipped his arm around her shoulders to comfort her. Nevena relinquished to his hold and he enveloped her in both arms. She nestled close against him, curling her legs underneath her body, hiding her face in his neck and shoulder. His insides were coiling like springs. It was hard to know if this gesture was crossing their 'friendship' boundaries or not. He just felt like she needed the extra connection at that moment, and it was all he could think to do. "We all have our weak spots. Some people just know how to exploit them. And," he added with a feeble chuckle, trying to lighten the mood,  “at least we’re equal with panic-slash-anxiety attacks.”

"I guess." Nevena's voice was muffled.

"I'm just glad you're okay," said Cullen, nestling his cheek against her hair. “If anything had happened to you…” He sighed, scrunching his eyes closed and banishing the thought. She was safe. He was with her. He didn’t need to worry any more. I was worried about you.

Cullen could feel the occasional tremble shock through Nevena's body as he held her, winding one hand down her back steadily. She didn't begin to cry, or even sniffle. He believed she might have passed beyond the realm of being upset and into aftershock. That this was the same numbness he felt after a panic attack, where everything seemed lucid and he didn't feel like he was moving the same speed as the world around him.

He counted the seconds between the breaths he took and noticed her own breathing slowing as she copied the rhythm he set. He focused on that, because he knew if he didn't he would focus on everything else. From the smell of her hair filling his nostrils, to how nice she felt in his arms, delicate, slight, and soft. Perfect. Any anger he might have felt towards Ineria was quelled and silenced by a flame of protectiveness. He wanted to keep Nevena safe and away from the noise and bright lights beyond the corridor. They would need to move eventually, but for a few minutes more, they could remain.

It was selfish of him, really. To be enjoying this privacy and intimacy after Nevena had experienced something so horrific and public, but it was a thought that lingered at the back of his mind. It was nice, to hold her so closely, and have the warmth and weight of her body pressed against his. To feel her breathing and be able to brush his mouth over her forehead, kissing her skin in an act of comfort. It was selfish, but Cullen wanted to allow himself that moment of selfishness, because he knew when she was calmer and more herself, a chance like this was unlikely to arise again.

She fiddled with the buttons on his jacket to occupy her fingers. Once or twice a shopper walked past the corridor and glanced down, seeing them both embraced on the floor. They had the decency not to approach or interfere, giving Nevena all the time she needed to collect herself. Time was of no consequence. It might have been an hour or more before either of them moved. Cullen was more than content to remain, and hated the sense of disappointment he felt when Nevena remarked that they should leave.

Nevena moved first when she was ready. She shifted in Cullen's arms, making some murmured apology and a suggestion that they should go back to the cabin. Cullen followed her lead in everything from getting up to walking through the shopping centre. Nevena's steps were sluggish but she was on high alert for everything. Loud noises made her wince, and he noticed a few instances as they walked when someone nearby moved too quickly and she flinched cowering away from  a perceived threat. Cullen drove them back to Haven and the cabin in a relative silence.

It was pitch black outside by the time they parked up outside Skyhold and he unlocked the cabin door. It was warm inside their temporary home and Cullen quickly shed himself of his jacket. Nevena did the same, ridding herself of her boots on the way to the bedroom too. After turning on the main lights, Cullen followed her.

"Do you want something to eat?" he asked, lingering by the door.

Nevena shuffled around in the dark of the bedroom feeling her way around the bed. "No, thank you," she mumbled. "Sleep. Just... sleep. I'll eat later. Tomorrow. Maybe."

"Okay." Cullen wasn’t happy with her not eating, but he knew if he tried to force her or convince her to eat, he would go unheard. He watched as she stumbled over something and yelped putting her hands out in front of her to catch herself. To prevent any injuries and because he knew the main light might be a bit bright, Cullen crossed the room to the vanity table and turned on a lamp. Soft yellow light spilled out from that corner of the room, and a little extra light leaked in from where the bedroom door was half open. Cullen froze in place, his eyes widening, when he saw Nevena in the mirror. She was naked from the waist up - except for her bra - and she was busying herself with the button and zipper on her jeans.

Fuck.

Cullen's face bloomed with colour and his chest grew uncomfortably tight. He knew he should look away but his gaze was fixed on view of Nevena's bare skin. She was slim, almost straight up and down with a tiny waist and hips about the same width as her shoulders and dimples at the base of her back. Her skin was slightly tanned, and he saw her freckles were most predominant on her arms, her shoulders. He realised how much his gaze was lingering on the view of her thighs and backside as she bent over the bed, grabbing up her pyjamas and tore his gaze away from the view of her in the vanity mirror.

Despite having had girlfriends before and seen more than a handful of women naked, Cullen couldn't help feeling as though he was intruding on something very private. This was not for him, and he wondered if Nevena even realised he was in the room or if she was too mentally drained to care. He blinked rapidly and stared down at the table before him to centre himself. He listened for the rustle of fabric while counting backward from twenty to try and calm the blood rushing through him and making him feel overheated.

He wanted to roll his eyes at himself. He was better than this. Letting base instinct and desire fuel him was beneath him and not something he ever did anyway. And yet... coupled with the memory of the kiss the day before, Cullen's found his mind beginning to wonder what her skin would feel like under his hands as she arched up ---

Nope.

Shaking his head to rid himself of the visions, Cullen jerked away from the desk and frog-marched towards the bedroom door. His cheeks were burning and he wanted to go outside into the cold and potentially lie down face first in the snow.  He would never allow anything to happen, he knew that. But now he had an image in his head... an image that was not going to be easy to forget. He wanted to kick himself and turn back the clock so he didn't look in the mirror as Nevena was undressing. Better yet, he wouldn't have even gone in the room.

"Cullen?"

Double fuck. His hand paused over the door handle.

"Where you going?"

Steeling himself, Cullen turned half a step towards Nevena. She was in the bed, duvet pulled up to her chest and leaning up on one arm. Her hair was all spilling over one shoulder, leaving the other tantalizingly bare, except for the strap of her pyjama top.

Triple fuck.

"Uhm... To the living room." He jerked his finger at the room, keeping his gaze on her face and nowhere else. "If you're going to go to bed."

"Oh." Nevena's voice was small. "Okay."

He could feel the question bubbling up and the words ramming themselves onto his tongue. Don't do it, Cullen. Don't fucking say a word. He flexed his hands at his sides, opening his mouth to bid her goodnight. "Do you want me to stay for a bit?"

Nevena flopped back. "Up to you." She tucked her dinosaur toy under one arm.

Cullen looked between the bed, the living room, and back again. He knew he should call Roselyn and let her know Nevena was safe and they were back at Haven. He should call the house too, let them know Nevena was safe – if they even cared – and give Ineria a piece of his mind. He knew at least Roselyn definitely needed and wanted to know Nevena was safe and that she was okay. He should call her. He needed to call her and get out of this situation…

His selfishness won out. He left the door open, crossed the room to the unoccupied side of the bed and sat.

Every move and gesture was a betrayal. Even after setting ground rules and reiterating their relationship was strictly friendship, he was breaking the boundaries already. There were other things he knew he should be doing. He should have left and gone for a walk. Gone to calm himself down. Spoken to Varric, or better yet, Cassandra, who would definitely put him straight. He should have grabbed up his things and left because he lost his will and senses around Nevena Trevelyan. He should have never agreed to this if he knew he would be challenged so much and find her so alluring. But he had agreed to it, and now, as he slid his feet out of his shoes and lay under the covers beside her, he knew he really was in over his head.

He lay on his back uncomfortably aware of every breath and every movement he or Nevena made. He stared at the ceiling, at the light coming in from the living room and the soft glow from the lamp on the vanity. His right hand rest over his chest and his breathing was deliberately slow and measured. His left hand he opened and closed digging his fingernails into his palm with each inhalation. He would wait until she was asleep and then go into the living room. Then he would kick himself and berate himself until he associated Nevena Trevelyan with a verbal bashing the likes of which had never been seen.

"Hey, Cullen?" Nevena didn't move from where she was curled up, her back facing him.

He turned his head. "Mhm?"

"Thanks for finding me. And looking out for me," she said.

“You should really thank Roselyn.” Cullen replied, smiling to himself. “She’s the one you contacted in the first place.”

“I guess…” Nevena moved a little. “I'm sorry, too."

"Sorry?" He shifted, rolling onto his side and closer to her. He was only moving to hear her better. Her voice was muffled. There was no other reason for him shifting to be closer to her. And when he gingerly placed his right hand down on the covers, his arm arching over her body it was because there was nowhere else to put it. "What are you sorry for?"

"Everything," Nevena replied. "Being such a nuisance. You didn't sign up for this... For looking after me. Or dealing with my family. Or… or any of this."

"Nevena..." He touched her arm.

"It's... I would understand if you wanted to go and cut the contract short. I wouldn't blame you. And I'll still pay you for the whole time," she spoke quickly. Cullen could almost see her face, eyes clenched closed, wrinkle in the bridge of her nose as she fought to get her words out before anyone interrupted her. "I just... wanted to you know. If you left. I wouldn't... There would be--"

"Hey, it's okay, it's okay..." Cullen moved closer. He didn’t think about his gestures or the implications behind his actions now. He wanted to comfort her, to be near her and reassure her that he wasn’t angry. That she owed him no apology, and nor did he expect one. He slid his hand down her arm and wrapped it around her waist cuddling her into his chest. After a moment or two, he felt her fingers shyly sliding between his and his stomach squirmed pleasurably. He pressed his forehead to the nape of her neck and sighed. "You can't get rid of me that easily... I'm not going anywhere."

Especially not without you. He wanted to add, but didn’t.

Nevena gave a small sound of acknowledgement a little before nestling into his embrace. Cullen closed his eyes, his skin prickled and warmth slid down every limb like being submerged in a bath. It had been a long time since he felt the contentment of sharing a bed with someone settle over him as it did now. The familiarity of trust being built and maintained. The comfort, the warmth, and the sense of affection welling up inside him. He was tempted to kiss her shoulder blade. Just let his lips graze her skin wordlessly, and make believe it was an accident caused by movement. He did not, he did allow himself to gently nuzzle the nape of her neck as he exhaled heavily.

He realised he couldn't leave even if he wanted to. Not that doing so would change anything. He was too involved. His feelings for Nevena Trevelyan ran far deeper than he wanted to admit. Leaving without her was out of the question. He would endure a hundred Ineria’s and a hundred Nevan’s if it meant keeping her close and safe.

Even so, after this, once she was asleep, he would extract himself and things would resume as normal. This was a onetime only thing. She needed the comfort and he was there to give it to her. After this, what they said the day before still applied, as it did now. His own feelings didn’t matter. He could ignore them and they could go on as normal. As friends, and  as though there was nothing else between them. Nothing complicated or potentially confusing.

They were friends. Only friends.

He would lie to himself until he believed it. Even if it hurt.

I was going to wait until tomorrow to upload this, but i've not been having the best week, so I thought I'd gift this to you guys a day early. Might help me feel a little better. I am all caught up on comments (hurrah!) so apologies to those of you who have replies to comments from a month ago and are like: 'wtf?'

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. A bit of a slow down from the previous one, a little more mellow, which I think was needed. Bless Cullen, eh?

As always, please let me know what you think in the comments/reblogs/tags etc.. I love reading them and I'll try to get back to people in a timely manner this time. Thanks for reading. See you in the next chapter. <33