#this is a cursed idea that I ‘stole’ from Melancholy

[devildaisies]

Au'liver L'Place RP Guide

People seem interested in playing Au'liver in their home games! Here's a guide for you.

Au'liver is the proprietor of an inter-dimensional magic shop named Au'liver's. He sells magical items, scaled to the level and tone of the campaign you are running.

Appearance

Au'liver is a white-haired, purple skinned elvish man.

He wears clothing that looks like an over the top approach to a magician's getup. He wears gold jewelry, including a set of rabbit-charm earrings.

His age can be ambiguous, but he is somewhere in the elvish equivalent of the 40-50 age range. Though vanity is one of his flaws, so he either has a great skincare routine, or may use a glamor.

His casting, visually, is a combination of flashy wizardry and stage magic. For instance, he typically retrieves items by manifesting a magician's hat with a flourish, and pulling it out from there.

He is very expressive, especially with his hands.

Personality

He is melodramatic, eccentric, and more clever than you would think. Willy Wonka type.

Do you best to be quick witted and funny. Easier said than done, but so worth it when it lands.

He has a white rabbit familiar named Smau'liver.

Prone to holding grudges. He once created and sold a ring that was enchanted to do double damage, specifically on the player that stole from him.

Conversely, Au'liver can be quite sentimental, and is genuinely touched by thoughtful gestures.

There is a seldom-addressed melancholy to him. Keep the fact that he's been isolated in a demiplane, in mind.

Au'liver will maintain an air of showmanship if more than one player is around, and circumvent any melancholy or personal topics.

He is gay. RARELY a flirt, but when he does, he does not pull any punches.

Obviously he can break the fourth wall. I would recommend doing this sparingly, or it kind of looses it's humor.

Mechanics

Mechanically, Au'liver is a max-level wizard.

His spells can NOT cross the threshold of his shop. This is to prevent him from becoming your PC's game-breaking ally.

His magic items can, however, be used outside of the shop.

He can do just about anything within the confines of his shop that a wizard can conceivably do. This does not include healing or resurrection spells.

He CAN casts spells for the players on top of selling items, but he upcharges significantly, and requires that they bring him spell components. I usually price it up from the DM's guide price for a spell scroll of that level.

Players can access his shop from rare, well-hidden doorways in their world. They shouldn't be able to access two portals within 3 days travel.

As the DM sees fit, they can have him gift them with a summoning card. When it is swiped in a closed doorway, an hour-long ritual spell commences. Once it is completed, a portal to his shop will be opened. The entrance will disappear if the door is closed. If the door is opened during the casting, it will be interrupted.

He does not like to be stolen from, and can NOT be stolen from through traditional means. If a player is caught stealing, he will enact immediate retribution. For example, an upcast Plane Shift, sending them to the astral, just long enough for them to pass out.

Plot

He is trapped in his demiplanar shop.

Why is he trapped in the shop? Answers change every time you ask! Have him commit wholeheartedly to whatever you say in the moment.

If you have a good idea for the REAL reason he's trapped, I encourage you to use it in your game.

My players have always felt the urge to try to free him from his demiplanar curse.

I encourage you to indulge them, but do not make it an easy to solve problem. What weight does a problem that can be solved with a "dispel magic" even have?

Conditions

Don't use him commercially / for public shows.

If you make art of him, or have fun moments to share, please make sure you tag me. 'Cause I wanna see.

And for the love of god, always remember.

[pixiemage]

If one of these is another TNAWY au I SWEAR TO SANTA PEARLA

Anyway have multiple

29, 39, 49, 59, 78.

I swear if I get even more songs from TNAWY AU and as I’ve said love how we semi talk through discord while in tumblr comments at the same time.

[For the Rancher Playlist Ask Game]

YOU PICKED FIVE?!?! You're INSANE! Do you WANT people to have to scroll through FIVE of my Rancher rambles????

...very well.

Track #29 - Stitch Me Up by Set It Off

Guess what? This one also inspired a TNaWY scene, a rather sweet and melancholy one that won't show up until about the halfway point :3 Hurray!

This is a song I've had rolling around in various playlists for ages, but THIS one got added to Ranchers for a few reasons. One, it reminds me of a Jimmy that's too fed up with being picked on by his friends, and of a Tango who's still not over Bdubs' betrayal. And then there are also the lines about needing stitches (Like a doll in lost and found, so mistreated, thrown around) and it makes me think of those crossover fics where Jimmy has been turned into a toy or ragdoll and he needs literal stitches to repair himself. But to pick some lyrics:

Are you the one to fix me up, patching up the work they done? Try and sew me So thread the needle, tie it off, teach me how to trust someone Really hoping that you stay That you never walk away (...and later...) Really hoping that I stay I could never walk away

Track #39 - Eyes Wide Open by Gotye

If I remember correctly, I THIIIINK that Hybbat suggested this one to me way back when, but I might be wrong! All I know is it resonated with me and it ended up on the playlist :3

This one's a bit tricker because I like it almost more for the vibe and a few stray lines than anything else, but it's still a quality song. And if I have to pick a section, this bit does remind me of the canary's curse and everyone ignoring the warning it represents:

And only a few ever worried While the signs were clear, they had no idea You just get used to livin' in fear Or give up, when you can't even picture your future

Track #49 - Danger To Myself by The Unlikely Candidates

This is ONE HUNDRED PERCENT a Tango song, perhaps especially before a point where he's come to accept that Jimmy cares about him as much as he cares about Jimmy. It's also, I imagine, around the time of the fire at the ranch in some stories, where he's worried his rage will scare Jimmy off. But it's SO good, the kind of sing I like to dance to, and the lyrics are great. This chunk in particular feels very much like a reference to B.E.S.T. and any lack of trust that followed Tango from that game to here:

'Cause I was founded In a bed of liars Walking the streets someone before me set on fire And after all this This love I borrowed I'm waiting on the day you don't want me tomorrow And I, I don't know why you love me I'm a danger to myself

Track #59 - Feeling Mean by Ben Bostick

I'll admit, I stole this one straight out of a Minecraft Manhunt.

This is ALSO a Tango song - you're on a roll lol - and it's very much meant to be a mix of Tango's rage after the burning of the ranch, and him plotting the rise of Rancher's Revenge. But this bit in particular is the line that resonates most with Tango post-fire in my opinion:

I'm feeling mean, I'm feeling mean The meanest hunk of meat that anyone's ever seen Get out of the way of the hurricane or there's a heavy price to pay Tonight I'm feeling mean, I'm feeling mean

Track #78 - Oh Yeah, You Gonna Cry? by Lovejoy

OH BOY LOVEJOY! :D Also the last song on the playlist, nice pick, nice pick lol. Most recent addition. Lovely.

So THIS one is - hah - okay listen. I love Scott as much as the next person, and I LOVE Flower Ranchers. That being said. Have y'all READ Trust Life??? This song ABSOLUTELY gives me Trust Life vibes, with some lines feeling like Tango, and some lines feeling like Scott. It's GLORIOUS and I've played out a CMV in my head just listening to this song before lol. So - god how do I even pick a line from this - uhhh...oh! Here! The chorus! Because honestly, this could be EITHER of them depending on the chapter!

Well, now, now, you need to calm down What good's this energy? (It's no good!) When you devote it to me Why not be a little more friendly? Now, now, you need to calm down Does she still think of me? Say my name in her sleep? I thought you knew her better than me

ARE YOU HAPPY???

[rainbowtransform]

@ethereal-deadly-clover @melancholycatastrophe

:) (def would consider checking out this post before for a little more context!!)

Here’s the thing: Dream loves his server. He enjoys playing with it, growing flowers and managing to coax dogs and cats out from the undergrowth of trees. He looks at the stars above him, big and bright and beautiful. When he decided to settle, Dream puts away his shoes.

He walks barefoot through the grass, feels the wind, and feels the earth beneath him. The word he has inhabited, the world that holds him close and murmurs words of love is huge. It’s awaiting his exploration, and hums a song that he doesn’t quite understand.

His feet are bruised by the time he finishes his walk. Bad scolds him for it, but he sees the faraway look in Dream’s eye, and remembers the first time he’d gotten his own server. “Be more careful,” he says quietly while wrapping them. “Shoes are important, and you’re not going to help yourself without them.”

Dream shrugs. He wriggles his toes, and smiles.

“I like going barefoot.” He says. “It makes me feel closer to the World.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Pandora’s Vault burns his feet almost instantly. Dream spends the first week hopping from foot to foot, settling them into his respawn hole, and wondering why it never hurt this much before.

Sam looks at him with no expression, and only raises an eyebrow at his hopping. There were shoes in Dream’s changing bag, but he’s hasn’t worn shoes in forever. The only time was when he’d enter the Nether, but he’d take them right off afterwards.

“They’re uncomfortable.” Dream tells Sam. “I’m wearing them.”

A sigh.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

He’s in the trees, feet dangling. Sam’s underneath him, shoes in one hand and a half-smile flitting across his face. “It’s almost winter,” he says. “You’ll get cold. You’ve got to wear shoes.”

Dream shrugs. “I’ll wear socks.” He counters.

“They’ll get wet,” Sam says back. Dream crosses his arms. No one likes wet socks, but Dream doesn’t want to wear shoes anymore. He hasn’t been for a while.

“What if I only walk on the Path? Or I only leave when it’s warm enough or I just go outside the community house.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “You’re not going to do that.” He says bluntly. “You can barely sit there for this world, you’re always exploring. Now you’re going to dust inside for a whole season?”

Dream sighs. He climbs down the tree, and Sam smiles at him. He gives Dream the shoes, and then tightens his own laces when Dream’s tying his. “I’ll be back before this season’s over.” Sam tells him, brushes aside Dream’s hair.

Dream feels uncomfortable. Sam says his goodbyes, and once he’s out, Dream takes off the shoes.

(The others look away. They’ve gotten used to not trying; Sam’s the only one who still does. Callahan even took his shoes off for a week or two, trying to connect to the world like Dream.)

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

The thing about Techno joining him is that he’s calm and collected. He’s bored, but he hasn’t been through the things that Dream has been.

“So,” Techno says, looking at the shoes Dream has on. “Why are you wearing Velcro shoes? Can’t tie your laces?”

Dream shrugs. “The Warden put them on me.” He said. “He usually does before Quackity comes.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I think it’s like a punishment inside another punishment. He knows I don’t like shoes.”

“You can take them off right?”

“With permission.”

Techno shrugs. “Well… I’m giving you permission.”

Dream shrugs. “The Warden’s supposed to.”.

Techno hums. He drops his cape around Dream’s shoulders, and leans against a wall. “Well,” he says. “I’m going to sleep.”

(And if Dream leans next to him, far away enough to not touch him but close enough to grab Techno just in case, that’s enough. And if Dream wakes up tomorrow with no shoes, Techno looking like he hasn’t moved, there’s no one’s business except his own.)

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Dream writes and writes. His hand shakes, cramps, but he taps bare feet against chests and dips them into the respawn pool. Techno takes the books, and flips through them, and sometimes he’ll make Dream laugh. He also just watched Dream and the difference between shoeless and having them.

It’s done, Dream thinks. He signs his name off, writes it in a flourish. It’s like signing his death warrant. Dream finished the last sentence, and hands off the book to Techno. He doesn’t read this one, but he does give a hard look in the camera’s direction.

“Listen, Dream,” he says softly. “I’m going to go away for a while. I promise, I promise, I’ll come back. But you’ve got to stay strong okay?”

Dream stares at him. “You’re leaving?” He says.

Techno takes the cape from the floor and drapes it over Dream’s shoulders. “I am. I’ll come back for you. Team Chaos, remember?”

“Team Chaos,” Dream echoes.

And then he’s alone.

(Quackity hates that Techno got away. Sam hates that Techno got away, and burned the shoes. Dream cowers in the corner, begging forgiveness even though he did nothing.)

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Drowsy, Dream opens his eyes to see the Warden putting Velcro shoes on him. Dream hates them. It means that Quackity’s going to do something and Dream doesn’t know what. Sam doesn’t look at him, but he does make sure the straps are tight on him before leaving.

Quackity comes in minutes later. Dream curls in a corner, trying to get away, trying to get them off, ect are they on him what is he planning sometime sometime sometime—

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

He’s lead outside, with a bunch of people on the entrance. He tries to reconnect with the earth again, tries to feel the world underneath his feet, but there’s—it’s nothing.

He can’t feel anything except the socks and the shoes that feel dead, dead, dead. He would have fallen, trying to grab something in his hands—grass, dirt, the shoes—if the Warden’s hand didn’t tighten on his arm.

The warning is clear: stop.

“See?” Quackity says. “He’s fine. Sam hasn’t done anything to him.”

Dream looks up at the sky, and tilts his head. It’s dark, almost like it’s about to rain. Dream hasn’t seen rain in a long time. He wonders what season it is, before his attention is snapped toward Antfrost, who looks him up and down.

“Why is he wearing shoes?” Antfrost asks. “Dream never does.”

“Pandora’s Vault is hot,” the Warden says. “His feet will burn otherwise.”

They ask the Warden a bunch of questions. They don’t ask Dream, but Ant kept giving him weird looks when he reached for the grass beneath his feet. He just wants to connect again.

Dream feels wind against his face, and he looks to where it’s coming from. There’s a shadow, flying low with the wind. Dream almost looks up, but doesn’t. It’s probably a bird.

The Warden’s hand tightens again, and Dream could feel tears building. Dream looks up and then suddenly everyone is staring at him.

“Dream,” Puffy says. There’s something in her expression that he can’t quite place. “Are you okay?”

Dream turns away and tries to grab some grass again.

“Prisoner,” the Warden says. “Answer the question.”

Dream catches Quackity’s eye, and watches how his expression changes from one of pleased to angry. The Warden’s hand is getting tighter, almost digging into him. Dream nods once, and the Warden lets go.

“Well, that’s a lie.” Technoblade says from above, and then all hell breaks lose.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Dream loves the night sky and the stars that come with it. When Dream first settled, they could see millions of stars above them and Dream made his own constellations. The stars glowed bright.

(Later on, it became too light to see some of them. But Dream remembered where they used to be. He’d sit on the roof of the Community House for hours, tracing where they were.)

But in the Arctic, they are unfamiliar. “Make new ones,” Techno told him. But Dream misses the old stars, he misses his fri—

He misses when there was no wars.

When it was just Dream in the world, he managed to bring a star down from above. He held it in his hands, hot and cold at the same time; and he watched it. It fizzled and spit and didn’t burn out for a long time.

Dream thinks he was a star, intimidating and untouchable. But he’s also at the end, his fizzle had sparked out. He’s not who he used to be.

He doesn’t know who he is.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

He tries to be barefoot in the snow, tries to feel the earth underneath his feet. There’s nothing except the stinging bite of cold and the dogs’ breathing.

Techno finds him, shoeless, sitting on his porch edge. He’s holding onto two pairs shoes, one Velcro and the other with laces. “It’s pretty cold,” he says.

Dream doesn’t reply. Techno sits down next to him, “Listen,” he says. “You lose the most heat out of feet and your head. I’m okay with you being shoeless in the houses, or the porch. But once you step off, you’ve got to wear shoes. Choose one.”

Dream looks at them. “Laces,” he says. “I can wear laces.”

“Sure, nerd,” he says. Techno leaves the shoes on the porch, and then gets up to go inside. “Phil’s making hot chocolate,” he says. “If you want.”

Dream nods. He lays down on the porch, and looks at the stars above him. A million, waiting for constellations.

So, Dream begins drawing.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Dream used to coax flowers into blooming early before the Wars began. Iris and Ivy, lilacs, and Lilies, asters and carnations. Roses and willows, and everything underneath the sun.

In the Arctic, they don’t grow. They shrivel because the Arctic is cold, and flowers are used to warm weathers. And Dream almost cries, when he manages to have a flower grow.

It’s a daffodil.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

The Syndicate come back from a mission, gunpowder staining hands and wither residue left on Techno’s cape. They’ve also got Redstone dust on them, but Dream doesn’t ask.

Dream watched them walk up, and Techno glanced down at his bare feet. “We can go on a training mission,” Techno tells him. “Somewhere warmer.”

There’s a break, and Dream looks down at his feet, and the flower that he’s grown. Niki and Phil are already inside, discussing what they should bake for dessert tonight and Boo’s already gone and writing something in his Book.

Dream looks up at Techno, and smiles. “Sure,” he says quietly. “I’d like that.”

(There’s something almost beautiful when he reconnects to the server. When his feet dig into soft soil, and he can feel everything.

Dream lays down, and watches the sky. Techno lays next to him. They’ve got weeks to spend here.)

[gentrychild]

Any webtoon or comic recommendations?

You mean, what I'm reading on Webtoon?

Cursed Princess Club

Exactly what's in the title. Except that the MC isn't cursed. We think. In any case, Gwen is absolutely adorable and deserves only good things.

Extremely wholesome.

Muted

Witch families in New Orleans! Camille, the MC, really looks like she has it together but she doesn't. It's a delight.

Banquet

Small child fall into hell and is adopted by demons. Criminally underrated.

Suitor Armor

Lucia, the MC, is the lady-in-waiting (really, sister/best friend) of the future queen. Just as they both arrived to the court, they discover that the royal mage managed to create the perfect weapon: an armor that can move in its own. Unbeknownst to said man but not to Lucia, Modeus is best boi.

Lore Olympus

A retelling of Persephone and Hades. One of my favorite webtoons.

Hero Killer

Don't judge me. In a world where heroes and villains exist, heroes are out of control and do whatever they want. The MC disagrees with the statu quo. It's fairly new but I am already loving it.

Purple Hyacinth

Cop lady who knows when people lie teams up with notorious hired killer in order to destroy a criminal organization. Gorgeous art, funny characters, and beautiful fight scenes.

Fluidium

In a world where people are born with two bodies, one male and one female, people can change gender at will until they are 21, where they must choose the body in which they will spend the rest of their lives. Except that MC, Jesse, feels comfortable in both bodies and really doesn't want to choose.

The croaking

Bird people trapped in a dystopia! I would tell you to read it for the worldbuilding but the characters are really good too.

The Red King

Rich (and spoiled) problem child pathologically allergic to people hiding the truth discovers that there is a world of magic (not the fun kind) existing not too far from him. Goes after a girl that can turn into a bird because she stole something and good people were fired because of it. Is aware that he is way over his head but that's apparently no reason to stop. A disaster. Beautiful art.

SubZero

DRAGON PEOPLE! Ahem. Arranged marriage between two royal families in order to stop a war. Members of said royal families can turn into dragons.

In the bleak midwinter

With a dead sister and 25 years to go on her soulmate timer, Anya decides to cryogenically sleep away her problems. Too bad she wakes up to an apocalypse full of them.

Never follow the wispfinch

Also criminally underrated. Son of resistance figure (who abandoned me) is volunteered by the government to become one of their killers. He decides to make it everyone's problems. All the important characters are mages. Beautiful art.

Mage & Demon Queen

You know those stories where the hero fights her way through a tower to affront the demon king? Well, this one is a mage and she wants to marry the demon queen.

Urban Animal

Normal kid discovers he is a chimera, aka someone who can change into animals (yes, plural, hence the chimera name). Starts as the usual "Normal teenage boy having to juggle with school, powers and secrets" then get more interesting.

The devil is a handsome man

I have no idea how to summarize that one. Demons? In Hell? Everyone has secrets. The MC doesn't remember her past, can't see the face of her boss, the devil, and she is trying to get used to her job.

Crumbs

Modern witch world where the MC is a seer. She can't see the future. instead, she can see the present. The story starts with her walking into a bakery that sells pastries that makes you feel things (romance, focus, peace, melancholy, and so on). The worldbuilding is absolutely incredible.

[ill-skillsgard]

Another goth out here - Can I ask for hc's of all the Bill boys you write for with a goth girl, please?

Why, yes! I’d love to. After all... Everyone needs a cute goth GF, right? You know it’s true.

Axel Cluney

He steals her fishnets. They just look good on him. Axel likes to show some skin and he’s not a fan of real shirts. Only garments with holes in them, and she happens to have a lot of those. Axel will convince her to do a clothing swap with him until she gets fed up sacrificing her clothes and brings him to a goth market where he can buy his own stuff.

They compare tattoos. She has some meaningful and dark tattoos and Axel is covered in ink he let his friend put on him as “practice”...That friend is now in jail tattooing convicts, but Axel insists they’re not prison tats.

He shows her new music. Everything she loves, Axel loved when he was a  kid, and makes it a point to remind her of his refined taste by bringing her mix CDs which she can’t play because who even owns a CD-player anymore? (He buys her one from the local pawn shop so they can listen to Smashing Pumpkins together.)

Axel contemplates dying his hair black. He loves hers, so why not his?

Roman Godfrey

She has a crush on him first, thinking he’s the closest thing to the local “goth” boy, then realizes he’s not goth at all. She might think he’s a poser. After much back and forth, she decides he’s just a fashion guy, but he already has his sights set on her. He wears all the black in his closet and then buys more to assimilate.

Roman’s idea of a first date is bringing her to a forest where he smokes cigarettes and talks about being an outcast. She makes fun of him only a little bit, then steals his scarf. He lets her keep it, saying it looks better on her anyway.

He asks her if she knows any witchcraft or spells; if she believes in spirits and all that. It surprises her to hear these questions and she answers, “why? You wanna put a hex on someone?”

Roman has found a match for his attitude. He thought he was the world’s biggest brat until he meets her. It’s a huge turn-on for him to have a girl that doesn’t put up with bullshit.

Henry Deaver

She scares him. Like a lot. But it’s hot...Right? He doesn’t know if she hates him or not, but he’ll find out once he summons the courage to talk to her.

He’s wildly afraid of coming off as unimpressive, but he doesn’t know what these kinds of girls like. So he buys up a bunch of old-school horror movies, some of them truly god-awful, and hopes she’ll want to watch one of them. Oh, and he has to keep the lights on, and no, he won’t explain why. He just likes to watch movies with the light on. Yes, there’s a glare on the screen, and no, it doesn’t bother him.

She figures out Henry is jumpy and will lurk in the shadows to pop out at him at any chance. He screams and clutches his chest the first couple of times, then spends the rest of their time together peering around corners and assessing where she is at all times.

He will not make the first move. She kisses him first, under a full moon, and Henry practically melts.

The Kid

He’s the only man that kind of freaks her out. He’s tall, dark, quiet, and not in the typecast way. This guy looks like a dead tree. He kind of sits there all stiff and wide-eyed like ghosts are talking to him. Until he cracks his first gentle smile, she’s not even sure he has a pulse.

The Kid knows all the best scary movies, and we’re not talking Friday the  Thirteenth and A Nightmare on Elm Street. He has a stash of the freakiest underground film that makes even her feel uncomfortable watching, and she grew up on this shit.

She likes to wear dark lipstick, and he’s the only one who doesn’t make snide or “clever” comments. He likes the way she dresses and does herself up. It reminds him of a little porcelain doll. A cursed doll, but cute nonetheless.

To her surprise, he kisses her first. He’s not the most vocal guy, but he can read body language, and he knows it’s the right time. When he pulls away, the smile on her face turns his icy insides to liquid.

Henry Pearl

They meet at a midnight art showing in the middle of the town’s square. Her booth is set up with her spooky dolls and sinister paintings, sculptures and metaphysical crafts of bone and crystals. Henry gravitates toward her when he hears people whispering about her weird art.

She begs him to teach her some painting techniques, as she’s intrigued by his skill, and he obliges, but only later at night.

He makes her breakfast at night, explaining that nine PM is the perfect time for pancakes. She doesn’t mind since she’s a night owl by nature.

After they see each other for a few weeks, Henry paints a portrait of her and gets his first kiss as a result. It rocks his entire world. After the kiss, all he ever wants to paint is her face.

Mickey

He tries a little too hard to get her attention at first. She doesn’t know whether she finds him pathetic or if it’s kiiinda cute how he follows her around like a puppy.

They bond over music one day in Mickey’s car, which is NOT the car she first saw him driving. He lights up when metal plays, croons to power ballads, gets emotional over the break-up songs. She can see he’s a genuine dude who wears his emotions on his sleeve.

Mickey brings her flowers he stole from various gardens. He had a vision of buying her a bouquet of black roses, but they wanted 60 bucks at the store, so he improvises by prowling the garden district with a pair of shears.

Her black collars excite him. He asks if they mean anything or if they’re just fashion. She teases him and tells him if he wants to find out, he’ll have to prove himself. So he spends the rest of the week acting like the perfect boyfriend, though they’re not “official”, they are in his mind and he doesn’t have eyes for anyone else.

Merkel

Maybe the only guy who might be more goth than her. He likes black, wearing make-up and knows all the best underground clubs where they play dark industrial and everyone dresses like her.

He asks if he can dress her one day. To her surprise, Merkel has trunks of clothes he’s taken from fashion shoots. He styles her and stages his own photoshoot with her as his muse. The pictures are strikingly editorial, and she has the best time.

Merkel talks about hanging out with all her idols. She listens with heart-eyes and a smile to rival a sunrise to the stories of Gordon’s travels through Europe.

Invites her over to his place one night for wine and black-and-white movies, but all she wants to do is check out his handcuff collection and put them to use. With a coy look, he escorts her to his studio apartment, asking, “do you have your own safeword, or should we decide on one now?”

Willard Russell

He doesn’t understand all the black, but he wants to because he thinks she looks beautiful. He’s never seen a girl like her before. Maybe she’s an angel, maybe she’s the opposite... All Willard knows is he wants to talk to her.

She understands his melancholy, and he doesn’t feel like he needs to put on a happy mask when she’s around. It’s a breath of fresh air to feel like he can be himself in front of someone who doesn’t try to change him.

Her intelligence baffles him, and she doesn’t speak like the folks he grew up with. She’s different in every way, and he falls in love with her quickly.

Willard makes her a tree swing in the forest where they like to go to be alone. She finds this incredibly sweet and kisses him on the cheek before taking a seat on the wooden plank. His skin heats from where her lips touched, and he spends the rest of the evening with her in a lovestruck daze.

[saltpepperbeard]

Fighting the Rain ~An Everlark One-Shot~

A/N: Oh? What’s this? *Cough hacks CHOKES on cobwebs* A one-shot after almost two years of inactivity? Who knew that over-caffeinating was the true key to motivation after all this time! But hello hello everyone! So very happy to be back. I come bearing a bit of Reverent Sweetness™ as a small exercise to hop back into things! I really wish for this energy to continue, and so I’ll be attempting to push myself into getting back into the swing of things.

For the record, I completely and wholeheartedly blame Andy and Cate for such an idea. And I do believe I’ve seen another tub-related piece that was also hanging around in my mind as I thought this up. Whatever the case, thank y’all; your talks and creations fINALLY FUELED ME lmao!

But for now, enjoy some simple Everlark rubadubdub, and without further adoooooo...

Fighting the Rain

No two days are the same, and no two hunts are created equal. Some glow with warmth and yield a plentiful harvest, while others fall into a category of melancholy and disappointment. Unfortunately, as the clouds build relentlessly overheard, my efforts seem to be leaning towards the latter.

My arrows drive into a frustrating nothingness. My pray scurry as if they have an oddly heightened sense of awareness. My attitude grows all the more frustrated and downtrodden. And almost as if to directly mock me, the sky cackles and booms before releasing an onslaught of cold moisture.

Great. I’m quite a ways from home, but close enough to hopefully beat a deluge should it chose to erupt. I hate departing emptyhanded, but don’t feel keen on pushing my luck further. Not when a kindling of annoyance burns within my chest, and the clouds answer back with further rumbling.

I sling my bag over my shoulder and dart with bow in hand, the various unused arrows clinking against my backside. The rain is chilling, biting my skin and hissing against the internal fire. Water is normally apt at putting out flames, but it only serves to amplify mine. My scowl deepens as I continue on, growing damper and colder by the minute.

Aside from the fire roaring in irritation, perhaps it burns for another reason. Perhaps it presents itself now as a yearn for warmth, for the feeling only he can provide. His arms have always been there to chase away the deepest of stings, so of course I would want him like nothing else now.

My step inadvertently quickens, the mental image of his embrace fueling me. A blessing and a curse; the sky groans above and opens up to completion, sending buckets of rain upon me. My desperate speed of course, points to an even extremer drenching effect, my scowl deepening something terrible as I’m quickly soaked to the bone. But in moving faster, in practically flying across the land, the entrance to the back porch quickly appears through the falling sheets.

I waste no time in careening up the steps, practically throwing myself into the house with a hissing groan. But I’m sure such sourness will be short-lived. Such dampness will likely turn anew. Such chilling sensations will be burned off, the embodiment of the sun coming forth to bestow his touch.

Or not.

On the contrary, I’m met with emptiness. Silence. Nothing more than the shivers coursing through my form, and the soft drips of water rolling off my soaked clothes.

My scowl, though now painted with confusion, deepens all the more. Was I too presumptuous? Knowing my current luck, he’s likely elsewhere: wrapped up in the Bakery, next door with Haymitch, or deep in the throes of a painting upstairs.

I shed my father’s hunting jacket, hanging the damp leather to dry before shrugging off my equally-wet bag. My arms come to lace across my chest, crossing in both self-comfort and simmering frustration. Though, my lungs are quick to rattle with a sigh. He’s not responsible for my happiness, and I know so. And I can manage well enough alone when I need to; I’m no stranger to the empty cold.

But God, he definitely helps. He’s everything and more on a rainy, relentless day. And with every hour, with every moment spent with him, it gets harder and harder to deny the growing draw. So used to solitude and survival, and yet now do I find myself wishing for warm company more often than not. How Spring has warmed the deepest reaches of my soul.

I’m about to let my hair down and poke my head out the door to wring it out, when the day continues to prove me wrong. Or maybe, my mental call is answered by the only one who can hear it. Whatever the case, cold limbs run warm and angered heart beats ginger as his voice unexpectedly manifests.

“Katniss?”

My sigh shifts to something of tender relief, blowing out a quivering breath as I feel the instant effects.

“Down here,” I call back.

My chest seems to pound in unison with his footsteps on the stairs. He has no idea, the effect he has. It’s like the dissatisfaction towards the day’s events instantly drains, washing away like the billowing spout outside. Made even more intense, of course, by him rounding the corner.

I should be used to this. This is something of normalcy now. And yet, my breath still manages to hitch, coupled with the stutter of my heart. As usual, he beats me to talking, grinning his endearing smile as his blue eyes lay upon me.

“Hi, my love-” His voice and the expression are short-lived; he must have gotten a proper look at my state. Yes, the widening and wandering of his eyes confirm it, as does the speed in which he reaches me.

“Oh...God, you’re soaked!”

“That obvious?” I grumble through the hairs plastered to my face, though twinges of amusement exist therein.

“A bit!” he softly chuckles, reaching up to brush said strands away. An action which, is unsurprisingly topped off with a kiss, a very tender one against my glistening forehead. In missing him, in wanting the mellowness from my flower, I move for more. I chase after his lips as they depart, quickly bringing forth my own. The tender connection causes me to contently sigh, particularly when I can feel him smiling. We hold each other in the gentle lock for a few ginger beats, before he pulls free- oddly looking sheepish.

I cock a brow at him, which seems to be enough to pry an explanation.

“Didn’t know it was supposed to rain today. Really ah...puts a damper on my plans.”

I roll my eyes at what appears to be a pun, and he laughs a bit before grabbing the back of his neck. I cannot help but pry further.

“Plans?”

“Yeah...”

He puts on the shy smile which likely stole my heart all those years ago, and looks down in the direction of our feet.

“I ah...Drew you a bath. Thought you would like it after a long morning of hunting. Seems kind of counterintuitive now though.”

There it goes, the departure of every ounce of cold, of negativity. Akin to Spring melting the deepest reaches of Winter, easing the snow into the Earth and drawing forth blooms. I’m sure his thoughtfulness will never cease to soften me into awe. And, though it seemed impossible years ago, what with all the roadblocks and challenges that stood in our way, I’m sure my love will never stop heightening.

I find myself hushed into an affectionate silence, my cheeks blushing all the while. Before he can doubt the validity of his decision though, or doubt himself to any other degree, I leap back to him once more. My mouth dusts across his tender cheek first, before selfishly seeking out another caress of his lips.

“No,” I assure when we finally break, “No. That sounds nice.”

“Really? Fighting dampness with dampness?”

“Well, yeah. One is awful, cold, and from rain, and the other is inviting, warm, and from you.”

I’m surprised, though absolutely not, to see a glint flash through his shyness, his smile turning a bit more crooked to match.

“Hmm. Not yet it’s not.”

I roll my eyes and give his chest a playful shove. He of course laughs, and softly grabs my wrists, pulling me close for yet another kiss. I sigh against him, falling all the more into a state of contentment. Unsurprisingly, a trio of relatively new words present themselves on my tongue. Though, in yearning for Peeta, in having my heart beat deeper and faster for him day by day, their utterance feels more and more natural.

“I love you...” I whisper for him to capture, “Thank you.”

He grins so hard our connection breaks, and I can practically feel the heat from his blush, effectively triggering mine all the same.

“I love you too. Now go ahead- can’t have the bathwater turning into sitting rainwater.”

I let out a huff of mirth, and give one last parting kiss before taking him up on his offer. There’s a small bit of apprehension towards leaving him so soon, but I remind myself that this was his doing. The warm water will carry his essence, surely, ushering me away from all the troubles of the morning.

And so I walk up the stairs towards our bathroom, humming softly as I envision what awaits. Dampness to fight dampness indeed; I’m met with a plume of steam when I open the door. But quite quickly, it proves to be a far better option than that of outside.

Unlike the rain which chased me away, this draws me deeper into the bathroom. The steam is like a warm blanket, or a hug from Peeta, wrapping around my slightly shivering form. When I inhale deep enough, it seems like I catch notes of something floral- lavender, maybe? All the more thoughtful of him to doctor it up so.

My cheeks flush, and I quickly rid myself of my soaked garments, plopping them into a wet heap on the tile. My skin is quick to pimple from the biting air, so I’m even faster to slip into the beckoning tub.

And I cannot hush the contented moan that slips from my lips. It’s wonderful. Heated just so, smelling so sweet. My eyes roll shut with a sigh, and I poise myself to slip deeper into the watery embrace. That is, until the day continues on with its ever-changing events. That is, until a jostling of the doorknob halts my movements and breaks the relaxed trance.

Out of pure reflex, I draw my knees up towards my chest, hugging myself and hiding my body away. An action birthed from years of apprehension, and one that immediately unravels at the sight to follow.

Because it’s Peeta, of course it’s Peeta.

But the unexpected element is that he too, stands completely bare, all of him on displayed for my stunned, flustered eyes. I find his own first, and though he’s grinning, I can see that same shyness playing across his features. Much to my blushing dismay, my gaze cannot help but drift to the space I’ve become recently acquainted with. It’s still so new to the both of us that the hitch of my breath is answered by one in return. Warmth seems to travel to more than one place as I gaze at him, though my grey stare wanders to where it’s most prominent, his cheeks utterly rosy with red.

He shifts himself a bit then, looking down and snickering softly before catching my eye once more.

“Too much?”

A shiver rolls down my spine. I’m not sure what he has planned, but I have a feeling I won’t be opposed to anything he brings forth. Thus, I’m entirely earnest as I shake my head, releasing my knees fully.

“No,” I murmur, giving my lips a quick lick.

“Mind if I join you then?”

“Already seem pretty prepped to do so.”

He laughs his beautiful laugh, before blue interlocks tightly with grey. In knowing he’s silently asking for permission, a nodding gesture of my head brings him forward. I watch as he walks towards my backside, and I believe I’ve placed his intention. I slide forward a bit then, allowing him space to slip in behind me, should he choose to do so.

Sure enough, he does, momentarily sitting on the tub’s lip to unclasp his prosthetic before sliding in, the water sloshing a bit and rising from the introduction of another body. And, of course, it seemingly grows warmer, his form, his raw form, utterly reaching the depths of my being.

It’s ridiculous, considering he’s gone where no one else has, but I find myself somewhat timid. Maybe because it’s yet another new form of intimacy. I never really considered so many existing aside from the more carnal ones, but Peeta continues to surprise me. And where I find myself unsure, he also is there to softly guide me.

His warm hands gently slip to grasp my shoulders, and with a gentle tug, he ushers me to lean back against him. I don’t protest in the slightest, venturing back with his grasp and gasping ever so slightly when skin meets skin.

It’s different. Our bodies have been unified before of course, tangled and messy and desperate. But this is...different. It’s vulnerable, it’s tender, and it’s...comforting.

It’s everything. Just as he is.

My thoughts momentarily blip back to the former however, when I feel...him wedged between us. I squirm a bit, my breath hitching as more intense thoughts threaten to invade. But the more I feel, the more I lay against him, the more I realize that he’s relaxed.

And that it’s simply us. All that we are, together.

The thought settles me, and I sigh as I fully melt against him. Every bit of tension saps from my body, and my form seems to meld perfectly into his. His head comes forward to nestle against mine, and I can feel him smiling, the heat evident as he nuzzles and offers the occasional kiss.

I’m back to humming, back to closing my eyes, utterly slipping away like he intended, like I wanted. I had felt almost selfish before, wanting this so badly. But then again, it was nigh impossible not to; it does exactly the intended purpose. I’m ushered to plane where it’s just he and I, where nothing bad exists. I’m taken to a place of pure warmth, of pure love, everything else falling away.

As blissfully lost as I am, I of course have no choice but to vocalize once more.

“I love you so much...”

His turn to hum, as if he’s absorbing and ingesting such sacred words. But all the same, he presses a kiss to my cheek before returning the sentiments.

“And I love you...”

I’m prepped to simply drift away, waiting for my body to become so relaxed that I doze off against his chest. He denies me the opportunity though, but I don’t complain, his fingers coming up to nestle into my messy braid.

“May I?”

When I nod, he begins to softly unravel the intertwined strands. An easier task than usual, as the rain and running left it loose. I give my head a gentle shake when I feel it entirely unwind, fully freeing the waves of darkened ebony.

“Beautiful...” I hear him whisper, and before I have a chance to respond, before I can really even process, his fingers venture in further, sifting through swaths of black to dance atop my scalp.

Any crinkle of my nose towards his compliment instantly dies with such an action. He rubs, massages, the pads of his fingers driving me into an entirely different state of bliss. How is he able to do this? How can he affect me so? How can he drive my body and soul to places unthinkable?

I guess if anyone could be able to do it, it would definitely be Peeta. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I fall even deeper, my skin sliding against his as I descend a bit into the water. He snickers softly, but continues on with the massage. Or wash, perhaps? I think I can smell even stronger notes of flora and sweetness. Whatever the case, I can barely think, barely process, utterly mollified and melting.

So much so that I think my chin eventually brushes the water’s surface, effectively snapping me back into reality. With it, comes a hint of something else. Further selfishness? Guilt? Desire to return? Either way, my whisper breaks through the gentle steam.

“Peeta?”

“Yeah?”

“I feel like...We need to switch places. Take turns.”

His fingers momentarily halt, before he laughs and continues on.

“No. No no- this is more than enough for me. It’s perfect.”

“But-”

“Just enjoy it, love,” he murmurs, “Really. I’m just...happy to be here with you.”

So sweet, sugary sweet, sweeter than the confectionaries he specializes in. Surely something that would have earned a tense scowl years ago; now it draws forth a ghost of a smile. It makes me want to consider the journey, the steps we’ve taken to come to this very moment. But in the delightful erasure, all the pain and hurt is numbed, cast aside in the eyes of our affection.

What it fails to erase however, is my want to be stubborn, my need to please in return. Though blips of meekness still linger, shyness still evident amidst my cheeks, the former drives me and overrides. With a bit of difficulty in the porcelain space, I pivot around to face Peeta, connecting our stares with my smile running to a playful scowl.

Though there’s a slightly confused lift to his brows, he’s grinning immensely, an expression that acts as magnetism between our mouths. I kiss him for just a moment before carrying on with the intended plan. Just as he had done with me, I reach up with both hands, curling my fingers through his ashy blonde locks. I hear him shakily sigh, though the silence it what truly drives me onward; no argument is being made.

My pads nestle deep into his hair, softly rubbing and massaging like he had done for me. It’s lovely, returning the sentiments, returning the newly found intimacy. Unfortunately though, in doing so, I fail to recognize the more prominent form, the more familiar.

Perhaps it’s Peeta’s shaky hand that comes to rest at the small of my back, or the realization that such a position has put him directly at eyelevel with a more than desirable part of me- at least to him. I subsequently bite my lip, blush, and halt at the thought, slipping back to my previous perch.

Sure enough, when I pull away to get a look at his face, the flush to his cheeks and flare to his nostrils paint the correct picture.

“Too much?” I ask, parroting his opening question from earlier.

“Hmm, uh, a test of will perhaps, yes,” he replies with a shaky laugh.

It’s my turn to snicker, reaching to gently cup his face with a hand.

“Sorry. Might make this take a different turn.”

“I mean, it could, if you wanted,” Peeta murmurs, his grin turning crooked once more.

I let out a huff of mirth, softly shaking my head.

“Seems inevitable. But I dunno...I do like this.”

Peeta’s smile shifts back to a warmer tonality, pivoting his face to kiss my hand a kiss before responding.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like you said, I’m just...happy to be here with you. Always.”

His words repeated off my tongue are perhaps more loving and beneficial than the stroke of my fingers; he lights up like the sun, burning away the fog between us as his sapphire eyes sparkle.

“Always,” he reaffirms with a whisper, giving my hand another kiss before continuing, “Whatever you’d like then. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Whether I nestle up against his chest, lay back against him once again, or get ravished atop towels on the bathroom floor, the thick clouds of steam refuse to reveal. Whether they remain entirely chaste and grey, or heated and dripping, they encapsulate us, locking us away from the morning, from the bad.

Just as he does for me, and how I hopefully do in turn. 

Oh, how life is simpler, more bearable. How the negatives turn into things so much more desirable. And how humorous is it that I find myself longing to get caught out in the rain once more.

[mylittlerambledmusings]

The Road-Trip Part Five

Part Four | Masterlist | Part Six 

Rating: T +

Pairing: Frankie Catfish Morales x Reader

Notes: First off, Merry Christmas if you celebrate it, Happy Holidays if you celebrate something else, or just Happy Friday if you don’t! I never really expected this to go on for this long, if I’m being honest. I’m thinking maybe one more part and an epilogue if all goes as planned. Thank you again for all of your support, comments, and reblogs. They’re better than presents under the tree! ❤

Warnings: Mentions of death (briefly), cursing, and a bit (okay,  still a quite a bit) of fluff, excessive drinking, throwing up, and a very comforting Frankie.

Summary:  This was an idea from another prompt. The list is “Whump Prompts which are close to my heart. (If this is from your list, please let me know, it didn’t have a username to go with it.)

Prompt:  Hey, hey, hey. I’ve got you, I’ve got you

The following morning you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face as you sat on the counter watching Frankie make breakfast as you drank your coffee. Marvin was leaning against his leg whenever he stopped moving for more than thirty seconds and Flex was letting you use him as footstool. You chuckled into your cup when Marvin tripped up Frankie for the tenth time this morning. He never got mad about it, just huffed a little and stepped around the big dog and then narrowed his eyes at you. “Something funny, hermosa?”

You bit your lip in an attempt to hold back your smile and shook your head. “Nope,” you responded, stealing a piece of bacon and taking a bite all while holding his eyes. 

He grabbed up a piece and broke it in two, then threw them to the floor, using the distraction to slip between your legs. He pressed a kiss to your lips and then turned his head to steal a bite of your bacon with a smirk. You held out your cup to him and he took a sip and then narrowed his eyes again. “Are you trying to distract me from the fact you were laughing at me?” he asked, placing the cup he’d taken from you off to the side on the counter.

“I would nev-” you cut yourself off with a laugh as Frankie pressed his face into the crook of your neck nipping at the bare skin, his mustache tickling you as his fingers did the same to your sides. “Okay. Okay! Yes.”

“Yes what?” Frankie asked, nipping once more, chuckling against your neck when you jumped.

“I was laughing at you!”

“Was that so hard, hermosa?” He lifted his head and before you could react, he stole the rest of your bacon with his teeth, winked and backed away. You made a face at him and threw your leg out trying to kick him, which he dodged expertly, laughing as he went back to the stove. "Is this what I have to look forward to every morning?” You asked, grabbing another piece of bacon.

“You telling me you’re only moving in for the food?”

You laughed and reached out, grabbed his arm and pulled him back to you. You pressed your lips to his, gently running your nose along his when you broke off the kiss. “The food is just a bonus.” Your voice was quiet and more serious than either of you had expected. He leaned back a bit so he could see your face, the worry in his eyes fading away when he took in the look on your face. You licked your lips as your eyes dropped to his chest, a sudden shyness you hadn’t felt since the beginning of your relationship coming over you. 

Frankie tilted your chin up with two fingers and smiled softly at you. He slipped that hand from under your chin, to cup the back of your neck, his eyes bouncing back and forth between yours. “Whatever you want, hermosa, it’s yours. You know that, right?”

You dropped the uneaten piece of bacon onto the counter and cupped Frankie’s cheeks, pulling him back to you. Your lips pressing together in a kiss that deepened the moment he opened his mouth. His grip on you tightened and he pulled you to the edge of the counter as your kiss got more and more heated. That was until there was a knock at the door, and then another, and another. 

You broke apart like you were high schoolers that had just been caught by your parents, you stared at each other for a moment before you both started laughing. The serious moment broken by Benny who was now yelling and banging on the door. 

Frankie moved back in for another kiss, this one sweeter, less frantic than before, only breaking it when his smile got too big. When he met your eyes he winked, straightened, and yelled something out in Spanish as he went to answer the door. 

You took that moment to compose yourself and quiet down the dogs who had started barking while Frankie let in the guys. You slid down off the counter, meeting Pope for a hug as you took in the four of them. They all looked a little bruised but seemed to be moving as smoothly as Frankie had been, considering what had happened the night before. 

You made everyone coffee and the five of you moved to the back porch with Benny sitting on the floor, forgoing a chair so he could play with Flex. Frankie pulled you down to sit on his lap as the others sat in the deck chairs, Marvin sitting beside him and leaned against his leg. The conversation flowed just as easily as the day before, this time the questions were directed at you and Frankie. How the two of you met -which only Pope had heard- how long you’d been together, and of course when were you two tying the knot, as Benny put it.

Frankie had huffed, tossing the tennis ball at the other man as he said. “Damn, Benjamin, don’t scare her away, I just got her to agree to move in with me.” 

You’d smiled down at him and him at you, which, of course, had started the mixture of jabs and obligatory congratulations. Pope had gotten up, pulling you and then Frankie into a hug, telling the man it was ‘about damn time’.

The morning continued on this way until Pope spoke up and said that he and the guys had talked about it and they’d decided they’d rather spend the evening here. They’d go to town and buy up everything they’d need for a cookout and then they’d bring it back and set up the fire pit and grill. His reasoning was that it was easier and less of a chance of someone getting arrested tonight. 

You’d all gotten a good laugh at that, but you knew that none of them regretted one moment of last night. They’d done it to protect someone and honestly, you were glad they had. It just proved that they were the men that Frankie had told you they were. 

~*~

Frankie had taken the dogs and went with everyone else to town to get ready for the night ahead, which had left you blissfully and completely alone. You’d taken your time in the shower, gotten dressed in your most comfortable jeans,  and had even let your hair in the messy bun you’d been sporting that morning. 

By the time you’d come out of the bathroom the guys were back and setting everything up outside. You went out and asked if there was anything you could do to help, which resulted with you and Frankie in the kitchen, while the other three tried to figure out how the grill worked. 

The two of you worked side by side, seasoning the steaks and burgers that the men had picked up and placed them on trays to make it easier to carry outside. You could feel his eyes on you and instead of asking what he was staring at, you just hip checked him as you took one of the finished trays to the fridge. The moment you’d set the tray down he reached out, caught you around the waist, and pulled you back to him. You gave a surprised yelp but went willingly. He pulled your hair back so he could press a kiss to your neck and then your cheek. “Thanks for being alright with us staying here tonight,” he said softly.

“Hey,” you whispered and turned in his arms. “You know I don’t mind… Plus, I like them. And you’re not going to hear me complain when I get to spend more time with you.”

“Let’s see if you’re still saying that three months from now once you’re stuck with me all the time.”

You shook your head as you pinched his side. “It’s not going to be all the time,” you pointed out. “We’ve still got our jobs. We’ll just be able to come home to each other and I really like the sound of that.” He smiled down at you and pressed your lips together. You broke off the kiss almost as soon as it started and frowned up at him. “But who’s to say you won’t get tired of me after three months?”

He scoffed and shook his head and instead of verbally answering he just kissed you again. 

You’d just started to melt into his arms when you thought you heard the door open, but you weren’t really paying any attention to it until you heard Benny say, “If you two lovebirds are done in here, we might need some help with that grill.” 

~*~

With the four of them, they’d finally got the grill to work and Will had started cooking, filling the grill up with more food than you thought they could possibly eat. Frankie and Pope had gone to collect some wood for the fire pit while you watched Benny throw the tennis ball for Flex. Marvin on the other hand, was leaning into your legs as you rubbed his head. You figured he still wasn’t sure about the younger Miller brother, and that was why he was sticking to you and Frankie like glue until he was. 

Frankie and Pope got back just in time to get the firepit started before it started getting dark and after they’d got that going, the five of you sat around it just eating and sharing stories. You’d gotten to hear about Tom, their old captain and friend that they’d lost on the last trip that they’d taken together. When the mood got to be more than a little melancholy, you changed the subject to lighter things and in no time the men were back to themselves and laughing and joking with each other. Frankie had held you a little tighter, whispering a thank you in your ear as he pressed a kiss to your temple while the other men were distracted.

It went on like that for a little while longer until Benny pulled a deck of cards out of his back pocket. You couldn’t have known that that meant trouble, but when he’d suggested you all play the game Kings none of you all had any better ideas and it had seemed innocent enough, so you all had agreed. He had laid out his phone with the rules and placed the deck face down on the middle of the table set up outside. It had started off simple, Pope drew a six, which meant all the girls -you- drank. You drew a five, which meant all the guys drank. Each card stood for something like questions or tasks and it felt like every time a card was flipped you were having to drink for some reason or another. Before long the majority of the bottle Pope had brought was over halfway gone and you were more than a little tipsy.  

While you didn’t want to be the first to drop out of the game, even your normally competitive side was waving a white flag of defeat. You were sitting on Frankie’s lap when you announced you were done, which was quickly followed by Will, Frankie, and Pope. It was more than you’d drank in a long time and you were definitely feeling it. That wasn’t exactly a good thing either.  

Frankie rubbed your back as he leaned forward to look at you. “You good, hermosa?” he asked and you could almost swear you heard concern in his tone. 

You nodded, which was a mistake because all that did was make the space around you start to spin. You closed your eyes, fighting off the nausea, your hand going to Frankie’s shoulder for balance. When you’d finally got yourself under what you considered control, you slid your hand up from his shoulder to pat his cheek. “Yeah, baby, I j-just need some water.” After taking a deep breath, you opened your eyes and gave him a lazy smile. 

It took you a few tries but you finally stood, swaying slightly until Frankie’s hands gripped your sides. “Yeah, I don’t think so,” he said, standing up behind you, his firm grip keeping you vertical. “I think it might be time for bed. You guys are more than welcome to crash here.” You heard some sounds of agreement but before you could chime in, letting them know you were good with it too, Frankie was steering you towards the house. 

About five steps away from the door was where your stomach revolted with the amount of alcohol you’d consumed and you doubled over, emptying the contents of your stomach on the ground. Your knees had almost given out but a pair of strong arms wrapped around you and held you up. 

“Hey, hey, hey. I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” Frankie said, comforting you as you threw up everything you’d eaten for the past twenty-four hours. You hadn’t gotten this drunk since college and now you were kind of remembering why. 

The rest of the night was pretty much a blur, only a few things sticking out that you actually remembered. Frankie holding your hair back as you threw up again in the bathroom -at least making it to the toilet this time-, Frankie carrying you back to bed and helping you change into one of his t-shirts, and then Frankie telling you if you felt sick all you had to do was lean over the side of the bed because the trashcan was right there. You vaguely remembered apologizing for ruining the night but couldn’t remember what he’d said in return, only that he’d gotten you to drink a little bit of water before you passed out completely.

~*~

You woke with a groan, on your stomach facing away from the warm body behind you. The bed shifted slightly as Frankie tucked your hair behind your ear then ran the backs of his fingers down your cheek. You didn’t dare try to move yet, you already felt like death and you’d barely opened your eyes. “Oh, God…” 

“Are you alright, love?” Frankie asked, gently rubbing your back. 

Instead of using your words, you just groaned again and risked turning your face toward him, then pressed your face into his hip effectively blocking out the sun that had started coming through the windows. He huffed a short laugh as he ran his fingers through your hair. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“Did you sleep?” you rasped after a blissful ten minutes of silence. He didn’t answer you but you knew he was awake because he was still rubbing your back. You chanced leaning back just enough to crack an eye open to look at him.

When he just gave you a sheepish look, you made a noise of  and pressed your face back against his warm hip. “Frankie…” 

“I’d apologize, but we’d both know I was lying.” Your eyes weren’t even open but you could hear the shrug in his voice. You lifted your hand to pat his chest and smiled against his hip when he threaded your fingers together. “I didn’t want to risk you rolling on to your back or me getting trapped in a…”

He trailed off when you squeezed his fingers and nodded against him. “I know, baby.” 

“I’ll sleep tonight, hell, maybe I’ll even take a nap today.”

“Nap sounds good,” you agreed, smiling when he chuckled, until it started shaking the bed and you groaned.

“Shit! Sorry, sorry,” he said, quickly getting himself under control. 

~*~

When you woke again, the bed was empty and you were feeling marginally better than roadkill. You cracked an eye open just in time to see a shirtless Frankie walk through the bedroom door. 

“Alright, hermosa, time to get up,” he said, carefully sitting on the bed. You blinked up at him and frowned, but he was there and helping you up before you could even object. 

With his help he led you to the bathroom where you saw the clawfoot tub over halfway full of steaming water. You turned your head to raise a questioning eyebrow at him and he smiled...No, smirked at you.

“The guys are gone.” His hands turned you again towards the sink where your toothbrush and toothpaste were waiting for you. The man was an absolute godsend, because your mouth? Yeah, you weren’t going to think about that. “And I just want to take care of you. So a bath, then maybe some toast, water,  ibuprofen, and then you’re going to relax until you feel better.” He gathered your hair so he could place a gentle kiss right where your jaw met your neck. You shuddered as you watched him in the mirror and smiled when all he did was meet your eyes in the mirror and winked.

Once your teeth were brushed and you’d stripped down, you tested the water with your fingers and then climbed inside the tub. You couldn’t help the moan as you lowered yourself to sit. The water was hot and relaxing as hell. How had you managed to get so lucky finding the man in front of you? You couldn’t answer that, but you sure as hell weren’t going to take it for granted either. 

You reached out to run your wet fingers down Frankie’s stubbled cheek as he kneeled beside the tub and smiled when he pressed a kiss to your palm. He took your hand in his and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. “Thank you, Frankie,” you said softly.

“I told you, mi sol, anything for you.”

Tag List: @cxnnxrmar​

[missfluffywriter]

Purple Irises I Mafia Park Jimin x Reader

 Author’s note: Hello everyone! Back at it with chapter 3. I’m SO happy you guys like it Purple Irises, it’s my baby. And I’m like hecka proud of this chapter from the last two this has the best writing. I just hope the plot make sense with how layed everything out. If not please let me know 😭 And I know the whole purple irises thing doesn’t make sense yet but please be patient it’s coming. I also learned how to disable a motion sensor for this chapter so... Lol. Okay, so yeah that’s it for me, Happy readings! 

Word count: 8.8k

Genre: Mafia au, Doctor au (kind of)

Paring: Park Jimin x Reader 

(Series) Summary: You were supposed to be delivering flowers, so how did you end up in an operation room digging a bullet out of a mafia boss’ shoulder?

Purple Irises: Royalty and wisdom 

Warnings: Gun, violence, language

Previous chapter I Next chapter I Masterlist

Lush,emerald lawns stretched far out, tall pine trees dotting the outer edges of the vast gardens. Salvias, lavenders, dahlias, daffodils, and other vibrant flowers bloomed adjacent to the cobblestone path that extended throughout the property.

The meeting had been adjourned an hour ago, and the group disbursed, the men returning to their duties and responsibilities. And while they tended to their work, Jeongguk suggested you familiarize yourself with the mansion, so you did just that with Shelty by your side of course.

You begin your exploration with the estate gardens. It seemed like working as a florist had rubbed off on you. Automatically being drawn to the gardens, and pausing to admire each flower you passed. You mindlessly strolled through the stone path you lost yourself in your thoughts.  

Still unable to believe the events that had occurred but an hour ago. Truthfully, you didn’t know where those words had come from. Your observational skills had never been used in such a fashion. You had no idea it could be used like that. The entirety of the meeting had been a sort of a blur once you had started speaking, your mouth moved simultaneously with your mind. Your heart had been pounding throughout the meeting. But the thudding within your ribs wasn’t caused by nervousness neither was it caused by fear.

The emotion responsible for the rapid beating of your heart was once again, excitement. You saw adventure in the situation and the plan... Before you had even realized it, your brain had analyzed the case and immediately thought of a counter-strategy. Like how you would in a game.

But this wasn’t a game, this was real life, and lives were at stake. How could you have been excited about such a situation? Lives were on the line, not points as it would in a game. What was wrong with you? You chewed the inside of your lip, your thumb petting your index finger. Even as you fought yourself, even as you chided yourself for feeling such emotions, you couldn’t force a way the excitement bubbling in your chest. Eager to have your plan in motion, more than ready to participate in whatever game you may have been dragged into.

The plan would heavily rely on the intel Namjoon would gather. But the most crucial aspect will be the control over the flow of information and perception. You understood very well that information was the most dangerous weapon in existence, it could bring either great good or great harm. The result hinging upon the manner in which the information is utilized.

‘Huh? The path changed?’ Lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t realized just how far you had wandered. You were no longer walking down a cobblestone path and instead on a gravel walkway. Taking in the tall Cotswold dry stone wall before you, recalling the grey and brown wall you had seen from the mansion. You deduced you were at the edge of the garden. ‘What’s that?’ You caught a glimpse of a dark spot along the wall. Straining your eyes, you strode towards the darkened area.

You took a sharp breath when you saw the property continued. The rustic wall made way to another area through a narrow, gravel path. Unable to suppress your curiosity, you advance on the path.

The passageway was dark, but there was no roof or archway above the walls. The tall trees beyond the wall shaded the area. A few more steps and you were at the mouth of the passage. And what you witnessed truly stole your breath.

A fountain sat in the center of the enclosed space, the fountain was low, made of obsidian, and perhaps Emperador marble. A dirty beige basin decorated the heart of the fountain, water gently overflowing into the main body of the fountain. The walls that you had seen before the walkway, created a room like an area. The gravel path circled the fountain, the rest of the space carpeted with the same emerald-green grass as the rest of the gardens. Two towering trees lie slightly before the fountain, then two more beyond the fountain. Vibrant flora grew around the walls. Sunlight barely peeking through the branches of the massive trees, the light that did pass fell perfectly onto the shimmering fountain. It was as though you had walked into a fairy tale.

But the mystical sight wasn’t what took your breath away. It was the one who was seated on the edge of the large fountain.

“Jimin?” You whisper, absorbing the sight before you.

Shades of yellow caressed his flawless skin, his silver locks glittering in the light. The contrasting shadows and light gave him an angelic glow. He sat sidelong on the fountain, his eyes reflecting a melancholy smile curved along his plump lips as he peered into the glimmering deep-blue water. Then as though you were in a fairy tale, the wind picked up. His silvery locks gently swaying with the zephyr. ‘An angel,’ Your mind instantly correlated the sight before you with the heavenly creature.

“(Y/n)?” He called, having been broken from his trance at the whisper of his name. His gaze snapped to your form, a hand resting on the right wall. Breathless wonder painted your face, lips parted, eyes wide as though you had just seen the most beautiful sight in the world. Jimin felt his mouth curve upwards as he looked at you, realizing that he was the cause of wonder when he followed your gaze. What an innocent expression you wore. It suited you, indeed it suited your features very well. What it didn’t suit was the world you were dragged into, and his smile falters.

A searing warmth crept up your cheeks when you realized he noticed you were staring at him. You ripped your gaze away, instead opting to glare at the daffodils that grew underneath the trees. You cleared your throat, “That’s a pretty fountain.”  

‘That's a pretty fountain!? That’s a pretty fountain?! Of all the things that’s what you decide to say?!’ You berate yourself, cursing your sudden awkwardness.

Jimin blinked at your words and his smile returned full force. “It is, isn't it?” His gaze reverts back to the blue-green water.

“This place is beautiful, do you come here often?” You asked, wafting towards the fountain. On the other hand, Shelty, who had stood by your side the entire time you were gawking admiring Jimin, bounded towards the male.  

“I come here to clear my head. Something about this place is calming to me,” He answers thoughtfully, happily obliging Shelty with ear scratches as he did so. You hum, understanding the feeling of having a safe haven. For you, it was your apartment. Your apartment was your safe space, decorated with fairy lights, more pillows than you'd care to count, and fuzzy blankets that you’d roll around in.

“How old is she?” He chortled as the jet-black wolf-dog laps at his cheeks. Just when had they gotten so close? Your smile widened watching the male giggle as Shelty assaulted him with slobbery kisses.

“Would you believe me if I said a little over a year old?” You answered with a question. Sitting beside him on the fountain.

Jimin blanched at your question, disbelief pooling in honey orbs, “No way! But she's so big.” You chuckle at his response, a common reaction when you reveal the age of your puppy. However, you paused when you realized Shelty had been completely ignoring you.

 “Oh, so you found yourself a new best friend, huh? I see how it is?” Feeling betrayed by your one and only companion, you puffed your cheeks into a pout, eyebrows knitting together as you crossed your arms in faux dismay. The wolf-dog pauses her ministrations, ears perking up when she hears the tone of your voice. Though she did not understand your words she could decipher what you were feeling through the tone of your voice. And right now, she heard sad.  

Whining she trots to you, nuzzling into your stomach, trying to discern as to why you were sad. You giggle at her reaction, massaging the silky fur around her neck. Oblivious to the amused eyes of a certain beautiful bastard silver-haired male.

“You know the mansion grounds are huge, I’ve been wandering for an hour and I still haven’t seen the whole garden. Forget the inside of the mansion,” You continue as the wolf-dog charges back to Jimin.

“Oh? You’ve been wandering the garden?” He turns his gaze to you. To which you nod in reply. “Have you seen the garden in the east wing?”

“There’s another garden?”

His lips twitch as he stands, “Would you like to see them?”

“Of course!” You bounce into a stand, startling Shelty as you did.

“Alright then,” He acknowledged, gesturing to you to follow.

What was he doing? Why was he taking you to that garden? His mother’s garden, a memento entrusted to him before she had passed away, and it was also the last proof of her existence in this world. That garden was one of his most cherished treasures, so why was he leading a girl he had met only hours ago to a place so close to his heart?

The words had slipped from his tongue before he could even register what he was saying, he had already asked you about the garden. But the strangest aspect of this whole ordeal was that he didn’t correct himself. His mouth kept moving, going so far as to invite you to see it. And his body seemed moved on its own accord, leading you towards his most precious place on earth.  

It was a short distance to the garden. Jimin had led you down the cobblestone path you had been on earlier. You passed many neatly trimmed hedges and a section of the mansion, most likely the east wing. ‘We must be close,’ You thought, taking in the architect of the gigantic building as you followed close after Jimin.

Then it came to view, vivid patches of purples, pinks, blues, and yellows. The garden itself wasn’t the largest, but that limited space resided multiple species of flowers. An iron fence surrounded the garden and an archway that doubled as a gate.

Jimin held open the gateway, allowing you to enter first. You thanked him as you walked into the magnificent nursery. As you observed the many flowers you noticed all the flowers were extremely well looked after. Someone had put a lot of care and dedication to nurturing these plants.

“This used to be my mother’s, before she passed away,” Jimin spoke. You eyed the fond expression that rested on his face. And you couldn’t help the small smile that made itself a home on your lips. You could see the love and care he held for his mother and the sadness from losing her.

“I’m so sorry,” You weren’t exactly sure what you were apologizing for, you had just felt the need to. As you bend down to admire the purple hyacinth.

“Before she passed away she entrusted this garden to me, saying she left a message for me. I searched every square inch of this place, but I never found anything. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to find it?” He bit tongue, the words tumbled past his lips before he could stop them.  

Seeing his saddened expression, a strange heaviness swelled in your chest. You couldn’t fathom the disappointment and heartache of not only his mother but also being unable to find her last message.

‘Pink carnations, morning glory, chamomile, purple hyacinth, white clovers, cornflowers, and more. Wait, pink carnation…’ Your eyes widened with realization. All these flowers had a commonality!

“Jimin! The flowers!” You exclaimed understanding the message his mother spoke of.

“Yes, they're beautiful,” He says not following your thoughts

“No Jimin! The flowers! They’re the message. The flowers are the message!” Jimin’s breath hitched catching onto what you were thinking.

“Morning glories symbolize affection, white clovers mean others are thinking of you, daffodils mean new beginnings, goldenrods symbolize encouragement, chamomile symbolizes the energy in adversity, cornflowers are given as good-luck charms because they are linked to wealth and good fortune, purple irises represent wisdom and royalty, lemon balms symbolize sympathy, the purple hyacinths are flowers that ask for forgiveness they mean “please forgive me”, and pink carnations… Well, legend has it that they first sprouted from the Virgin Mary's tears shed over Jesus' death… making them the symbol of a mother's undying love.” You recited the meanings of the flowers before you, deciphering the message Jimin’s mother had left him. Her message was pure and simple, she was encouraging him, wishing him the best of luck, she asked for forgiveness, and finally, she told Jimin she loved him.

You felt a tinge of guilt stir within you, this a personal message. This was between Jimin and his mother. And you were a stranger in the situation, did you truly even have the right to know?

Your feet fidgeted as you pondered the question. Although Jimin seemed to have a different take on the situation. As he pulled you into a hug, whispering a soft thank you. Smiling you returned the hug soothingly rubbing his back. The hug was warm, and somehow he seemed to envelop you. He was taller than you had expected. From this proximity you caught a whiff of his cologne, it was smelled sweet and clean, feminine yet somehow masculine. You wondered how such a soft person could be part of a mafia gang let alone the boss. You hummed comfortable in his embrace, perhaps a bit too comfortable as you nuzzled into his neck.

Jimin chuckled at your behavior, but he didn’t seem to mind it. Your eyes blew open as you registered that you had just nuzzled into the embrace of a mafia boss. Jumping out of the embrace you apologized. And he dismissed your apology with a smile.

“Your mother must’ve been an incredible woman. I mean who would’ve thought to leave a message through flowers,” You say, your eyes once again roaming the beautiful garden.

“She was, she really really was,” Jimin agreed.

What a cunning woman she must have been. Not a single soul would so much so as give this place a second glance unless they knew of it and were actively looking for it. A message, hidden in plain sight. You mentally made a note of the situation for it may come useful in the future.

“Walk with me?” Jimin asked a pleasant smile decorating his lips, his hands in the pocket of his sweatpants.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you gulped, palms suddenly sweaty. ‘My god he’s hot,’ You cheeks flushed such a deep red you’d put an apple to shame. ‘No, no nothing to blush over. That was just an observation. A simple observation,’ You thought as attempted to force away from your blush and calm your, now rapidly beating heart.

“(Y/n)?”

“Walk! Yes love to I,” Wait that wasn’t right, “ I-I mean, I’d love to,”

‘How adorable,’ Amusement flashed in Jimin’s honey-brown orbs as he wet his lips and nodded. Yet he could not deny that his very own heart had not been pumping just a tad faster, or the strange feeling that bubbled in his stomach.  

After that time had all but disappeared. A smile on your lips as you talked about everything and anything. You told him of how you had rescued Shelty from her abusive owner and a sort of anger seemed to form in his eyes. You questioned him about his favorite Disney movie and apparently, he had never seen one. And you took it upon yourself to change that. And the back and forth continued as Jimin led you through the garden. Occasionally pausing to ask you the meaning of flowers he did not recognize. The garden may have been small, yet somehow you had spent the remainder of daylight without so much so as a second thought.

“I wonder why my mother was apologizing...” Jimin’s voice trailed off. And you turned your attention to him. “She was the one that found me, took care of me, gave me a home. And I was the one that dragged us into this shit, I was the one that killed her son,”

Your eyes widened, ‘what?’

He saw the query in your eyes, however, he gave no explanation. And you didn’t need one. Hearing the grief and pain in his voice was an answer enough. His eyes cried sadness and hatred, and somehow you knew those emotions were directed towards himself.  

The sun was setting and hues and purples and blues painting the sky. Daylight fading from the garden, but you could see his smile clear as day. “I’m not gonna lie, I don’t know why I brought you here, or why I told you any of that.”  

Hearing his words, a modest smile made its way to your lips. Jimin may have not realized it himself but he had just trusted you with something so precious you didn’t know if you deserved it, he shared with you a piece of his past, and a piece of himself. What a strange turn of events. Earlier that very same day he had you at the receiving of a gun, and now here he was sharing something so special.

Tentatively grasping his hands in yours, you held them to your chest, “Thank you, for showing me this garden and for trusting me,”

Jimin’s breath hitched at the sight before him. Cheeks dusted a rosy shade of pink, a shy smile on your delicate lips. He hadn’t noticed earlier, but the moon had risen. The luscious moonlight giving your features a captivating glow. The warm gentleness your shimmering orbs held as you gazed into his. The tender manner in which you gripped his hands, the warmth and softness they possessed.

Did he trust you? Had he trusted really? Perhaps he did, but why? Was it because you were now working for him? Or could it have been something else? Your nature was similar to that of a placid river, peaceful and calm yet there was this part of you that was simply enthralling. Your mellow presence and soothing voice were so easy to get lost in.    

He could not control the acceleration of his heartbeat. Feeling it’s rapid thudding against his ribs. He could do nothing but watch as you thanked him for something he did not believe he had done, then just as tenderly released his hands.

“It’s late, we should head back,” Jimin eyes quickly flash towards the gate as he heads in the direction of the mansion. You quietly follow after him.

“I guess it did huh? I didn’t even feel the time go by,” Neither did he. “By the way, uh where do I go?”

“Ah yes, your room will be the one across from mine, it was not my decision. Apparently, I had a fever last night? And everyone was worried something like that could happen again. So they wanted you close by in case anything did happen,” He informed you. “Dinner will be brought to your room. And your curfew is 10:00 PM. Don’t leave your room unless you are explicitly asked by one of us or a medical emergency.”  

“Okay, I got it,” You nodded along. Although you did not understand as to why you had a curfew.

“Oh, I need to change your bandages before you go to bed,” You reminded him as you stepped into the main living room. Jimin gave a quick nod acknowledging your words.

You had never seen the mansion during the night. It was equally as beautiful as it was during the day, although at night, the mansion held this magical glow. You were trailing behind Jimin as the both of you walked to his room.

On route to his room, Jimin had stopped one of the maids and sent her to bring you the medical supplies you would need. And she was quick to fulfill the request or rather demand as she returned with a large box that had all the supplies necessary just as the both of you had entered the room.

This time around the changing of the bandages progressed and completed much smoother than it had been early that morning. As a matter of fact, you had even made a pleasant conversion with Jimin. And you much preferred the calm soft Jimin over the Jimin that held you at gunpoint.

“Ah right, Jimin you can’t get your sutures wet for the next twenty-four hours. I mean I’ll be cleaning your wound a bit. And even after that, only showers. Otherwise, you’ll be risking an infection,” You say as you tighten the bandages then clipped the bandage clip on.

“Understood doctor,” He said with a hint of mockery in his tone.

“You better have understood,” The words spilled before you could stop them, and you froze. Had you really just sassed a mafia boss?

“Oh?” Pure amusement laced his tone as his lips quirked into a smile that was more of a smirk.

“I meant goodnight,” You hurriedly put away the gauze and ointments, closing then placing the white box on the side table before dashing towards the door.

“(Y/n),” Jimin’s voice commanded, and you paused just as you had opened the door. “Your room is direct across mine. You see the doors right in front of you?” You nod.

“That’s your room. Again, dinner should be at your door in a few minutes, and yes, Shelty’s meal will also be sent,” He really had taken care of everything.

“Thank you,” You say gratefully, turning to leave. Before pausing once again.

“Jimin,” He hums at the call of his name, “Goodnight.”

He smiles, “Goodnight (Y/n),”

You padded towards your new room, Shelty on your heel. The room had double doors identical to Jimin’s. You swung one of the doors open, quietly entering the darkroom. You pawed at walls around the door until you found the light switch. Sighing a breath of relief as you turned them on.

“Wow,” The room was ginormous, spacious with a high ceiling, smaller than Jimin’s, but certainly bigger than your apartment. Your apartment…how long would it be until you had all your things were moved? Sighing you conclude thinking about something you couldn’t control would do you no good. Instead, you would ask Jimin regarding your things tomorrow.  

“Do you like it girl? It’s bigger than our old home isn’t it?” You smiled at the wolf-dog, who was busy exploring her new space. As your eyes analyzed the room further, you noticed the large bed. It appeared almost as if it were floating, it had a tan floating bed frame! The bed, compared to Jimin’s was smaller, however, unlike his, yours had a large shear russet canopy that touched the floor over your bed. Ruffles decorated the top frame of the canopy. The drapes closest to the headboard were loosely hanging, hiding away the front portion of the bed. The back drapes were tastefully gathered and tied to the legs of the canopy frame with a neat bow.

The bed had an awful lot of pillows, and you saw the familiar fuzzy white pillow. Those pillows… were your pillows. You rushed to the bed, and there they sat, all of your pillows and even your blankets were present. What was going on? Your eyes analyzed the room and landed on the office-like corner of the room. There was a glossy, east Indian rosemary wood desk completed with a chair made of the same wood and a large rug underneath them. Two large bookshelves aligned to the corners of the interesting walls.  

‘Those books,’ You hurry over to the area. Those books were yours too, and they had been arranged by alphabetical order according to book titles, even your textbooks were there. You made a mental note to thank whatever angle of a being had done this.

Running your fingertips along the desk you noticed your diploma had been neatly placed into a new nicer frame on the desk.

“Everything’s already here…” You trail off as you take in your aesthetically placed pillows. And a smile rose to your lips, you would make sure to thank Jimin and Jeongguk.

As you finished exploring your new room, a knock resounded in the quiet room. ‘It must be dinner,’ You quickly paddled to the door, and there stood one of the maids. She was the one who brought the bandages.

“You’re dinner miss uh…” Her voice was soft, meek even.

“(Y/n), and please just call me (Y/n),” You wave your hands at her formality.

“Once you are done please leave the trolley outside your door, goodnight miss (Y/n),” She bows ignoring what you had said before scampering off.

“Oh oh okay,” You stand at your door slightly confused.

You wheeled the trolley into your room, and Jimin was right. Shelty’s bowl was on the second deck of the trolley. You placed Shetly’s bowl on the ground, calling her over before digging into your own food.

And just as instructed you left the trolley outside your door.

‘What a day,’ You sighed, hopping out of the far too big to call a shower, shower. As you dry yourself with one of the fluffy towels, then blow-dry your hair with the dryer in the bathroom.

‘Does every room have its own blow dryer?’ You snuggled into Shelty’s neck as she nuzzled into you, surrounded your many blankets and pillows. You were dressed in your oversized t-shirt and a pair of short shorts that you had found in the excessively large walk-in closet. Apparently, all of your clothes had been organized and placed in the closet.

‘I wonder what’ll happen tomorrow,’ Your eyes fluttered closed, the comfort of Shelty’s presence and the luxurious bed lulling you to sleep.

~

You groaned as you smelled the familiar scent of rotting fish and old socks. You giggled awake as you were bombarded by slobbery kisses.

“Alright! Alright! I’m up,” Gently pushing the hundred-pound wolf-dog off your chest. “Well, good morning to you too,” You cooed at her as you sat up and stretched your arms above your head. “Let’s go get ready, yeah?”

You hopped off the bed as you navigate your way over the many pillows laying across the floor, to the bathroom. Quickly going about your routine as you needed to check on Jimin and replace his bandages.

You wondered if he was awake, Shelty had made it a habit to wake you as soon as she did. ‘What time do mafia bosses wake up?’ You thought as you changed into a white casual button-down shirt that was tucked into a pair of blue jeans, and a brown belt going around your waist. You had first thought of simply wearing a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt but you were technically their doctor, so to retain some semblance of professionalism. You opted for the semi-casual outfit.

 Deciding you would have plenty of time to make your bed after changing Jimin’s bandages, you exited your room. Breezing across the hallway, knocking on Jimin’s door. Entering after hearing a ‘come in’.

“Good morning,” You greet with a smile. And Jimin returns your greeting with a pleasant good morning. Bringing the supply box with you as you sat beside him. “How’re you feeling today?”  

“Better than yesterday, the pain meds seem to be doing their job” His lips curve upwards as he turns to give you better access to his shoulder.

“That’s good, but try not to overwork yourself. And make sure to take plenty of breaks, you lost a lot of blood the other day,” You hum in concern as you gently rub the ointment onto the wound.

“That may be a little hard to do,” Jimin chuckles as you finished wrapping his bandages. His job didn’t exactly allow for a break.

“You haven’t explored the mansion yet have you?”He questioned slipping on his sweatshirt. You replied with a thoughtful ‘no’ as you yourself had forgotten you had about your unfinished exploration. “Then have one of the maids give you a tour today,”

A much sounder idea than wandering around the seemingly endless mansion and risk getting lost. Maybe you could ask the girl that had dropped off your meal yesterday. But it looked like your tour would have to wait as you heard loud calls of Jimin’s name.

“Jimin hyung! They got him, they got Taehyung,” Jeongguk burst into the room, an enraged expression. The other four soon poured after him.  

The change was instantaneous, his face darkened and a spine chilling glare present on his face. Gone was the soft Jimin you were speaking to, and there stood the boss of a mafia gang.

“Who?” Was all he said as he threw his blankets and charged into his closet with Jeongguk on his heel.

“It was the Yeong’s again,” Jeongguk growled. “They sent us this.”

You feel the anger flowing into the room from within the closet. Jimin wasn’t angry, he was furious. “Namjoon, get his location” Jimin commands as he steps out of the closet, clad in a deep navy blue suit. He blazed out of the room. Was he going out in a business suit?

“We’re working on it, I’ve already begun the tracing. A few more minutes and we’ll have his location” Namjoon matched Jimin's breakneck pace as he spoke. The other men follow after them with you and Shelty.

“Jin get everyone together, Yoongi, the guns get me the newest one. We head out as soon as everyone is armed. Now hurry,” Jimin roared. Why was everyone leaving? If everyone was leaving then who would guard the mansion? Was he truly leaving his main base of operation unguarded? And by the looks of it, Yoongi had similar concerns.

“Jimin, I do一” The platinum blonde cuts Yoongi off.

“Do I have to repeat myself?” Jimin thunders as he turns to face everyone. Yoongi's eyes avoided Jimin’s as he shook his head no. Was no one going to speak up? You heavily exhaled as you decided to take matters into your own hands. And pray you survived

“Jimin, calm down!” You cut off his steps. And his eyes narrow glaring daggers into you, you gulped, as you felt your life shorten by ten years. “Just think about it. Where would you go? Namjoon doesn’t have his location, so unless you do. I suggest you slow down,” You spoke as steadily as you could under the circumstances.

“Slow down? Slow down?! One of my best men, one of my friends was kidnapped and you want me to slow down?” His enraged glare directed towards you.

“Yes I do, think about what you’re doing. I understand that you want to get Taehyung back as soon as possible, everyone here does. But you can’t go around making rash decisions. Besides for one you’re injured, and second, you haven’t had breakfast yet.” You explain calmly, surprised your voice came out as steady as you did.

Your words seemed to reach him as he inhaled sharply and held his breath before closing his eyes and sighing. Though anger was still prevalent on his face, his gaze was controlled. He understood the true meaning behind your words. If his command had gone through then he would be leaving the mansion essentially defenseless. And you were right, where would he have gone? They didn’t have Taehyung's location. Even if they had headed out, they’d only be running around in circles. You gulped as his eyes met yours.

“Jin, get a unit of twenty ready to move at a moment's notice, Yoongi I still want that gun, Namjoon hurry up on that location,” He instructs, frustration present in his voice. “And Eui, can you get breakfast in the living room?” He speaks to the maid cowering behind the hallway wall.

At his words and calms tone, you felt oxygen flood into your lungs. ‘I thought I was a goner,’ You thought as you placed your hand on your chest.

“What are you waiting for a written invasion?” Jimin raised an eyebrow at the men, who were staring at you as though you had grown a second head. Jin and Yoongi broke from their thoughts at Jimin’s voice before scampering off to complete their assigned jobs.

 Jimin turned on his foot striding to one of the sofas and sitting.

Eui, as you learned her name, was quick to return with breakfast. She was joined with another maid, of whom you had yet to learn the name of. Both speedily place the plates on the coffee table and surprisingly Shelty’s bowl next to you before bowing and scurrying off.

By then Jin and Yoongi had returned. Jin reported the twenty men Jimin had asked for were already in cars ready, waiting for their command. While Yoongi returned with a silver briefcase in hand. You assumed it was the gun Jimin had requested demanded. Breakfast had never been more awkward, the nervous energy hung in the air, and on top of that, no one spoke. Everyone ate in silence, and for some apparent Jimin seemed fairly content as things were.

“We got his location!” Namjoon jumped, eyes snapping to Jimin as if asking for further instruction.

“Jin!” Jimin stands.

“They’re heading out now,” he responds, all five men standing as Jimin stood.

“Hoseok, Jin, hang back. Guk follow in your car, Namjoon with me,” Jimin instructs meeting eyes with each man as he did. “(Y/n), you too,”

“Me? Why me?” You blinked, confusion riddled your expression. What could you possibly do in such a situation?

“Because you’re our doctor, Taehyung is injured. And Shelty’s coming too,” He explained briefly.

“Hey, wait! I need to get a first-aid kit!”

The drive was a lengthy one. The GPS tracker leading you deep into the mountains. They had taken Taehyung much farther than you had expected. But unlike the tense nature of breakfast, Shelty was close enough to somewhat soothe the anxiety of the men. She sat on the floor of the small limousine, nuzzling into Jimin’s and Namjoon’s hands. Though truly, to take one of the highest-ranking men of an enemy gang, what gal must they truly have? This event also serves to further solidify your idea that there is something crucial you were missing. With how quickly Namjoon was able to find Taehyung’s location you could not imagine they planned to hide his location. Although, that could also be attributed to the excellent tracking skills of Namjoon, yet still. They didn’t make any demand, they did not ask for anything. You had gotten a look at the letter that had been sent. All the letter said was to “Come get your dog” And a picture of a beaten and bruised Taehyung. That was also when something peculiar caught your eyes. You couldn’t see any severe injury on Taehyung, aside from the noticeable bruises around his face and neck. Though, the thing that stuck out to you the most, was the fact that his clothes looked nearly intact, dust and grim here and there, almost like he had been dragged. But not as though he had been truly beaten… something felt wrong. Only this time you decided it would best to keep your words to yourself, the guys were on edge as it was. You would keep an eye on places they didn’t and if you happen to see anything you would warn them immediately.

“We’re here,” Namjoon called as the car came to a stop. Jimin’s gaze turned ice-cold as he exited the car, you exit after them.

The area was surrounded by a thick forest of tall trees, the grounds elevated the farther from the house it went, almost a valley-like area. Before you stood a tall oak wood shed-like building, only this shed was much larger than a regular garden shed.

“I see Taehyung hyung!” Jeongguk pointed toward the door or at least where the door should have been. Thanks to the missing door, from where you stood, you could perfectly see him… perfectly see him? This felt awfully similar to…

Once you had a closer look, you saw it, Taehuyng was awake. His eyes were wide open, and what they held was far from elation. ‘I knew it’ You thought, this was a trap. But if Taehyung was awake, then why doesn’t he come out? Why doesn’t he say anything? He wasn’t restrained at all, he was simply sitting there. His posture was stiff, even his breathing seemed tense, almost as if… he was trying to limit his movements. Something was there making sure he didn’t move, but what?

“I’m going in there,” The chocolate-brown haired male charged towards the open door, and until you quickly grasped his hand stopping him from rushing into what felt like a trap. And you watched Taehyung's eyes blow up in fear then blink in relief? He was trying to keep them out of the room.  

“What are you doing!?” He exclaimed, not very happy with your actions. Jimin recognized this behavior, you had picked up on something.

“Guk, calm down, we still need to secure the parameter,” Jimin spoke in a notably calm voice. He nodded as a gesture to Namjoon to send out the men to secure the area. Who then assigned each man present, a job. Soon after, half of the men had left the group.

As they did, you and Jeongguk cautiously approached the shed. Taehyng’s eyes were focused on the spot directly above the open door. He was trying to communicate something. His eyes gaze flickers to you before returning to the small window above you. There was something there, did that window have something to do with his movements being limited. Movement? ‘Motion sensors!’ Your eyes widened as you connected the dots.

Taehyung’s eyes returned to you and you eyed the spot he had indicated, nodding as a sign you understood what he was gesturing to. But you mouth the words ‘ motion sensor’ as a reassurance you had read the situation correctly. And his eyes lit up at your lips and you were certain. Acting on a hunch your mouth ‘bomb’ and his eyes darkened with the slightest nod, so slight that anyone else would have missed it. Just as you stepped back Taehyng’s eyes widened, almost as if he were saying he wasn’t done. And his gaze turned to his left, his eyes scrunched as he glared to the area left to him. But why was he looking there? You couldn’t see any motion sensors in that direction. Could it be...You paused, nibbling on your lower lip before mouthing a sentence you prayed he understood. ‘Is someone watching?’ You tried to mouth the words the best you could. And his face immediately contorted into a scowl. ‘Someone’s watching that’s why he couldn’t talk,’

You staggered backward, dragging a confused Jeongguk with you, Shelty obediently following you. You needed to tell Jimin, but how? If someone watching was the reason Taehyung was left unable to speak, that would mean they were either close enough to hear or had a device planted somewhere nearby. That person would also most likely have a detonator. Taehyung had looked to the left, so that meant… they were close by. If Taehyung knew where they were then they had to be close. So they were in eyeshot too. Not good. How would you tell Jimin? Your eyes flew around taking in your surroundings especially taking note of the left. There was one way… You just prayed the people around him or Jimin himself didn’t shoot you.

You sighed as you walked to Jimin, a complaining Jeongguk in tow. The moment you were close to him you leapt into his arms. Of course, he caught you, a little startled but he caught you. And you heard the sound of multiple guns being clicked. ‘Oh god I hope I don’t die,’ You thought, nuzzling your head into Jimin’s neck, on his right side as he froze before relaxing.

Jeongguk and Namjoon both were puzzled by your action, if not a little flushed. “(Y/n), what are you doing?” Jimin asked stiffly.

“There's a motion sensor in that room, if they go off so does a bomb, don’t make it so obvious,” You continue to snuggle into his neck. Jimin stiffened before wrapping his arms around you and gesturing his men to lower their guns, much to Namjoon’s and Jeongguk’s confusion.

“Anything else?” He whispered into your ear, and you couldn’t help the shiver that ran down your spine.

“To the left, in those hills, someone’s watching. They probably have a detonator, just in case we found out about the sensors,” You mumble your face pressed to his chest. His arms tighten around you, a sign he understands and asking you if you had a plan. To which you gave a muffled laugh, Jimin smirked at your response. Of course, you had a plan. “I’ll deal with our little watcher. You just worry Taehyung,”

“As for the motion sensors, you’ll have to disable it. You see that window, you need to remove, and no you can’t break it. The motion sensors will pick up the moving glass. You’re going to have to remove it or open the window. Can you do that?” You ask him, pulling away just enough to meet his eyes. But he’s quick to pull you back. Giving you a quick ‘yeah yeah’. You giggled continuing, “Well, most models have a manual disable feature underneath the device. But you still have the choice of either cutting off its power source or you’ll need to have it carefully, staying in its blind spot. Which is right underneath it, disabled. There needs to be someone under the sensor that directs the person disabling the thing on which side the switch moves. That is if the switch is in the middle. If the switch is on either side just slide it to the other. But to be cautious, just have someone watching. But you move only once you get my signal. I’ll text you the minute I have their attention. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to hold it so get him outta there quickly.”

“Alright, but how are you gonna leave without arousing any suspicion?” he asks, leaning his head on yours.

“Oh, that’s the fun part,” You grin.

“Oh?”

You take a deep breath before pushing Jimin from the embrace, hollering as loud as your throat would allow. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN I’M IN THE WAY?!”

Jimin finally understanding what you meant when you said fun, plays along. “Like I said, you’re in the way! All you do is whine and bitch. Why don’t you understand… I don’t even know why I brought you here.” He sighs dramatically, running his hand through his hair.

“THEN WHY DID YOU HUG ME JUST TO INSULT ME AFTERWARDS!”

“YOU NEED TO GO HOME, NOW!” Jimin roars out, you flinch at his volume. He deeply sighs again, “Guk, take her home.”

“Ugh! Whatever! Let’s go Shelty!” You storm towards Jeongguk’s car.  

Though he did not know exactly what was going on, Namjoon understood that the two of you had a plan. He nudged a stunned Jeongguk, who sputtered as he reluctantly followed after you.

“So what the fuck happened back there?” Jeongguk questioned as he started the car.

“We don’t need to go far, just far enough we won’t be seen but close enough to run back,” You said a sly smile tugging at your lips.

“I smell a plan,” He chuckles while driving off.

“Oh, and can I borrow your gun?”

“Wat?”

~

“Who the fuck was that? And since when did Park have a girlfriend, now?” A gruff voice scoffs. “What the hell are they down there? They’ve been circling the place for twenty minutes. What the hell are they pussyfooting around for?” he sighs. ‘Did they figure it out? Nah they couldn’t have,’ He thought petting the detonator in his jacket pocket.

He was ripped from his thoughts by sounds of footsteps behind him. Immediately he stood from his crouching position and held up his gun. His mouth twitched upwards “Well, well, weren’t you supposed to be on your way home?”

“Yeah, sorry, there was a change of plans,” A smirk tugging on a corner of your lips. You leaned your weight on your right foot, shrugging. Jeongguk, who was hidden behind one of the trees, messaged Jimin, giving him the signal to move.

“So what do you want?” You ask, placing your hand on your hip.

“What makes you think I want something?” He cocked his eyebrow.

“Guessing from the fact that you haven’t set off the bomb the minute you saw me. And our intel-gathering is pretty good too. Actually, nevermind, here you go” You throw him a touch screen phone.

“And just what the fuck in on this thing?”

“The thing you’ve been looking for, Hyun Joo,” You tilt your head, a smirk ever prevalent on your lips. “Anything and everything on Sung Min.”

Shock glowed in his eye, how had you known. His gaze asking a silent question. You laughed at his bewilderment. “Remember what I said about our intel-gathering?” You answer with a question of your own.

Hyun Joo bursts into a breathless fit of laughter, his right hand covering his face. “And how do I know this isn’t just some random phone?”

“Easy, look through it, it’s not password protected,” You nod to the phone and he does as you instruct. Moments pass as he sifts through the information on the phone. He hangs his head, impressed with the contents on the phone. It did truly have anything and everything on it, down Sung’s favorite color. The events recorded on this phone matched with his experience with Sung.

“Don’t worry, all of it is actual information. I’m not brave enough to jeopardize my friend's safety,” You reassure the validation of the information with a frustrated sigh. His expression transformed one of intrigue.

“Now, the detonator please?” You request holding out your palm. Hyun Joo reaches into his pocket. Jeongguk stiffens at his actions, unsure whether Hyun would stick to the deal. But his worry seemed misplaced as Hyun carefully pulled his hand from his pocket, throwing you a small gray rectangular box with a single button. “This better be it,” You warned the smirk that was on your lips now gone.

“It is, I got what I was after. I got no reason to continue this,” He shrugs, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets. “But tell me something, how did you know I was here? Even if that guy in there had somehow managed to tell you where I was without talking. This area’s huge; it would have taken at least thirty minutes for you to find me. But you were gone for less than fifteen minutes.” He asks, genuinely curious.  

“Oh, that? Yeah well, you see I have a tracker of my own,” You say as Shelty steps beside, standing tall. Hyun jumps, holding up his gun out of instinct, curing at the sight of the wolf-dog. And you giggle at his expected reaction, “Meet Shelty one of the best trackers in the world, but she didn’t do all the work. As a matter of fact, you did half of it,” He looks at you in question.

“The gunpowder, she followed the scent of the gunpowder in your gun,” You explain to the confused man.

“One last question, why did you want the detonator? it looks like your little buddies had everything under control there,” He gestures behind him to the Taehyung that was now standing alongside Jimin and Namjoon.

“Well, you can never be too safe, besides I had to distract you. If we hadn’t made this deal or if your attention wasn't on something else. You would have activated the bomb,” Hyun heaves a dry chuckle at your truthful explanation.

“Ya really are something you know that?”  

“I’ve been told that,” You chuckled softly, before asking the question that had been bothering you, “But, all that aside. Aren’t you worried about the Yeong’s coming after you for making a deal with the enemy?”

“This kinda stuff happens an awful lot in this world. Besides, soon enough, I don’t think anyone will have to worry about the Yeongs” He chuckles, sauntering past you, disappearing into the woods. What? Didn’t have to worry about the Yeongs? What did he mean by that? This wasn’t the time for that, you needed to regroup with the others, you shook your head back into focus.

“Should we head down there from here, or…?” Jeongguk steps forward from behind the large tree.

“Let’s head down from here, then you can ride with us to your car,” Giving him a soft smile, you start your trek down the hill.

Jimin and the others weren’t far from your position, so the downhill climb was completed rather quickly. Though you were slightly out of breath as you emerged from the forest. Unlike Jeongguk who not only seemed right as rain but also sped towards his hyungs. ‘Kids these days have so much energy’  

“I didn’t realize your plan involved a nature hike,” Jimin says with the most amused eyes. You could hear the smirk in his voice.

“I didn’t realize my plan involved a nature hike either,” You return, not particularly happy about the comment, and he chuckles at your out of shape self. Namjoon, Taehyung, and Jeongguk laughing along.

“What are you laughing at, brat? I just saved your life. Actually, I saved all our lives,” You accusingly point your index finger to the still chuckling Taehyung.  

“Wait, but how did you find Hyun?” Taehyung inquires as he looks to you with a puzzled expression. Jimin’s eyes seemed to ask the same question.

“It was Shelty! It was obvious that someone in this trade would carry a gun, so (Y/n) had Shelty track the scent of gunpowder. She sniffed out Hyun Joo in minutes. You shoulda seen her! It was so cool!” Jeongguk praises the wolf-dog as he excitedly pets her.

“I must admit (Y/n), that was quite the plan. And I wanted to thank you for saving Taehyung,” Namjoon expresses his gratitude, as he pats your shoulder.  

You shook your head, honored by his gratitude but it wasn’t necessary. “You guys are like my colleagues now, so I was happy to. And I uh… I don’t about you, but I kinda see you guys as my friends,” You blinked at your own words. What a thing to say, friends with six high ranking mafiosos and the boss of the gang himself. You never imagined you’d ever be uttering those words.

“Doesn’t that make two?” Jeongguk asks, still playing with Shelty. All the men including you looked at him in question.

“What do you mean?” You head tilting unconsciously.

“First it was Jimin hyung and now Taehyung hyung, so that makes two of the seven original members of Bangtan you’ve saved,” He giggles as the wolf-dog half his size jumps on him, placing her paws on his shoulder.

“Huh? I guess it does, doesn’t it?” You thoughtfully look at the men, who were thinking the same as everyone bursts out laughing.

However, Jimin’s chuckle silences first as his expression turns grim. To do such a thing to one of his closest friends, there would be hell to pay. They would pay for what they had done, retaliation would be merciless.

You see his eyes darken with rage and contempt. Padding over to where he stood, you tenderly took his hand in yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. His eyes meet yours before flickering to Namjoon. “Do you have it?” He questioned.

“We have what we need and we're ready to begin phase one,” Namjoon reports to Jimin, who nods in approval.

“We begin phase one as soon as we get back to the mansion,” He commands. Before you veto the command

“Well, that’s all well and good and all, but how about we actually get home, I treat Taehyung’s wounds, and we all have lunch before doing anything else?” You suggest, feeling the tingles of hunger in your tummy.

“Correction, we begin phase one as soon as (Y/n) has been fed,” Jimin sasses.

“That’s not what I一, I said we all should have lunch together. And you missed the part about treating Taehyung,” You hooted, not very pleased with the mockery.

“Alright, let’s go feed the beast” Jeongguk announced, making his way to the short limousine you arrived in. Shelty on his heel.

“Jeongguk!”

~

“Ji Young, I have a proposal for you,” You cross your right leg over your left as you sit before the bruised and bleeding prisoner. Leaning towards the restrained man, a foxy smile on your lips.

“Work for us,”  

[bisluthq]

ooh i have so many thoughts on ivy, it’s one of my favourites. taylor said the thing about the pioneer woman in her rs interview before evermore came out, but once i heard the song i always connected it to ivy. the evermore album was obviously on her mind since at the time of the interview she’d already made the bulk of it. i think she confused people at the time by saying that because there’s nothing on folklore that screams ‘pioneer woman having an affair’ it’s full of references to homerooms and skateboards and parking lots and perfume and yachts and bus stops and hunters with cell phones. but ivy fits the pioneer woman stuff PERFECTLY.

i always picture it as taking place in early 19th century new england (or like my own fanfic version of new england since i’ve never been there irl) because i associate that place and time with cold snowy winters and a strong religious/spiritual culture, both of which are in the lyrics. ‘in from the snow’ ‘the palm of your freezing hand’ and then later the ending of winter when ‘spring breaks loose’ and also ‘clover blooms in the fields’ and the central image of ivy growing which all feels very pastoral in a way that i wouldn’t associate with the wild west, for example. the idea of forests is also pretty central to folkmore in general so that also sounds new england-y to me. ‘the old widow goes to the stone everyday’ and ‘where the spirit meets the bones’ = churchyard. the religious references also make me think it’s about historical lesbians because she feels alienated from the religion around her. she’s in a ‘faith-forgotten land’ and her lover has a ‘fatal flaw that makes you long to be magnificently cursed’ ie they are two women cursed to be in love with each other in a society and religion that won’t allow it. there’s this sense of bleakness and spiritual desolation (i mean, how many times does she say ‘oh, goddamn’?) from the beginnning, which is pushed aside momentarily when her lover’s touch brings forth an incandescent glow, but ultimately the song is still very melancholy because their love is forbidden. ‘i’d live and die for moments that we stole’ and ‘your opal eyes are all i wish to see’ and the way her lover is compared to ivy growing over her just screams historical lesbian love affair to me and i can’t articulate why exactly, it just does.

there’s also the way she said her aesthetic was ‘pioneer woman sleepwalking in the woods in 1830’ which is the year that lesbian poet icon emily dickinson was born. ivy is one of the most poetic songs on the album, and there are parallels between emily, her lover sue gilbert, and sue’s husband, and the secret lover, the narrator and the husband in the song. dickinson also wrote a love poem which ends with the words ‘sue - forevermore!’ which links to the album title. anyway in conclusion there’s a reason the wlws like this beautiful gay ass song so much

That’s a nice take I like it.

[pocket-luv101]

Summary: When Kuro pickpockets a man’s wallet, he didn’t expect Mahiru to invite him to dinner. (KuroMahi, Modern AU)

Most of the volunteers at the soup kitchen had already returned home for the holidays. Mahiru was the only who stayed behind to wash the dishes. While a few offered to stay and help him, he insisted they should be with their family. The holidays were approaching and he thought that people should be spend it with loved ones. With that thought, he took out his phone.

Mahiru scrolled through his texts but his uncle hadn’t returned his messages yet. He considered his uncle a father to him and he was grateful that he adopted him after his mother died. Yet, his job kept his uncle busy and they rarely saw each other over the holiday. That hadn’t changed after Mahiru became an adult. He pushed aside his lingering loneliness and focused on the dishes in front of him.

There was a knock on the backdoor and Mahiru questioned if one of the volunteers had returned. He assumed someone forgot something and came back. When Mahiru opened the door, he found Kuro. He knew him well because his family would often visit the soup kitchen. Kuro would offer to help clean up after closing in exchange for bringing leftovers home for his family. Mahiru knew how much he cared for his siblings and worked hard to support them.

“Hello, Kuro. I haven’t seen you in a few days and it has been lonely without my cleanup partner. Have you been busy with commissions?” He said and smiled warmly at him. Kuro wished he could do the same. Mahiru read his expression and lightly waved him into the kitchen. “Did something happen, Kuro? If you need help, I’ll do whatever I can.”

“Lily was sick and I’ve been so busy taking care of him that I forgot to prepare something for Christmas dinner. Do you have any soup leftover that I can take home?” Kuro asked but the guilt that passed through Mahiru’s eyes already gave him his answer. He groaned softly and tried to think of what he should do. Most stores were closed and he was a terrible cook.

“We ran out of soup. I’m so sorry, Kuro.” Mahiru placed his hand on his arm. Despite all the struggles the family had, they were close and loving. He thought they deserved a warm Christmas feast and an idea came to him. “Is Lily feeling well enough to leave the house?”

“His fever broke this morning but I should go back home and check on him. I’ll find a way to make Christmas happen so don’t worry about me. There should be a restaurant open even if it’s Christmas. Happy holidays, Mahiru.” He waved to him before he stepped outside. He could see that Mahiru wanted to help him but he left before he could offer. Kuro didn’t want to take advantage of his kindness.

He took out his phone and debated what he should do. He could search for a restaurant but he doubted he could pay for the meal. A large sigh escaped him and Kuro started to walk home. Hopefully, they had enough food to throw something together. He didn’t know what he would tell his siblings though.

A group of people caught his attention and Kuro turned towards the crowd. A few men were speaking and he knew that they were wealthy from their clothes. He couldn’t help but remember the days he was forced to pickpocket money to support his family. He was only a teenager then and he stopped the moment he found a proper job.

“Troublesome,” Kuro muttered to himself. He shook the memories from his mind and walked away. He glanced back to the men and he thought of his siblings’ smiles. The men were wealthy and they wouldn’t miss a few hundred dollars. With the money, he could buy a hearty meal for his family. He hadn’t pick pocketed someone in ten years so he hoped he wouldn’t get caught.

Kuro took a deep breath and turned back towards the men. He kept his eyes lowered and he did his best not to draw attention to himself. As he approached them, he studied which one would be the best to steal from. One of the men wore a long jacket and Kuro could see the outline of a wallet in his pocket. He purposely bumped into him and slipped his wallet from his pocket.

“Sorry,” He spoke in a deeper voice and hid the wallet behind his back. Kuro tucked the wallet into his sleeve before he quickly walked past them. He waited until he was a small distance from them and tucked the wallet into his pocket. He felt guilty but he told himself that it was to feed his family.

“Hey, where’s my wallet?” He heard the man shout behind him. Kuro cursed under his breath but he forced himself not to run. He couldn’t call too much attention to himself. He walked quicker and kept his eyes forward. The men yelled for him to stop but Kuro ignored them, praying that they meant someone else. He turned into the alley to slip away from them.

He ran into a person and his heart stopped when he saw that it was Mahiru. Kuro felt a hand on his shoulder and he was forced to turn around. The three men stood in front of them and he doubted he could fight them. He didn’t want to endanger Mahiru by fighting either. “You stole my wallet!”

“Excuse me!” Mahiru forced his way in front of Kuro to defend him from the men. “I don’t know why you think my friend stole your wallet but I can assure you this is a misunderstanding. Kuro’s a good man who would never steal. Thinking simply, I can prove his innocence as well. Give me your jacket and turn out your jean’s pockets, Kuro.”

“What?” He hesitated to give Mahiru his jacket. The faith and determination in his brown eyes stabbed at Kuro’s heart. He didn’t want to disappoint him and break his trust. As Kuro slowly took off his jacket, his mind raced to think of a way to throw away the wallet without any of them noticing. With so many eyes on him, he knew it would be impossible.

Mahiru took his jacket and Kuro closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see the expression he would make once he found the wallet. He was shocked when Mahiru said, “The only wallet here is this black one and it has Kuro’s ID in it so you can’t claim that it’s yours. You can search his jacket if you want too. You three should be ashamed of yourselves to accuse my friend of stealing your wallet on Christmas.”

After the chastising, Mahiru grabbed Kuro’s hand and started to take him out of the alley. He paused for a moment and pointed to something in the snow. Mahiru looked back to the man over his shoulder. “May I ask you if your wallet is red, Sir? There’s a red wallet right there. It must’ve fallen out of your pocket and you assumed he took it.”

Kuro could only stare at the wallet in shock. He was certain that he hadn’t dropped the wallet while he was running. He didn’t know how the wallet appeared in the snow but he considered it a miracle. While he was still lost in thought, Mahiru took him into the soup kitchen. He looked through the window and saw the men leave.

Once they were alone, Kuro said: “Thank you for standing up for me, Mahiru. I don’t deserve it though. The truth is, I did—”

“I already know that you stole the wallet, Kuro.” His whispered words made Kuro turn sharply. Mahiru smiled at him and met his eyes. He walked in front of Kuro and placed his hand on his shoulder. “I couldn’t let you get arrested on Christmas. Your siblings need you as well, Kuro. I know you’re a good man and you likely only wanted money to help them. I had to save you.”

“Were you the one who put the wallet in the snow? But how?” Kuro asked. Mahiru merely smiled and brushed his fingers over his bangs. He tucked his hair behind his ear revealed a silver spoon when he took his hand back. The shock on his face made Mahiru chuckle.

“Have I ever told you that I was a part time magician when I was a teenager? I’m pretty good at sleight of hand magic where I can take things and make them reappear.” Mahiru placed the spoon back into the drawer. “I wish you would’ve waited a few more minutes before you decided to go pickpocketing. I would’ve had the chance to invite you and your family for dinner.”

“Thank you for the rescue and the offer, Mahiru, but you don’t need to invite us to dinner.” Kuro shook his head. “I promise I’ll find a legal way to get money for Christmas dinner. You don’t need to worry about us.”

“If you think I’m only inviting you to dinner because of pity, you’re wrong. My uncle is coming home for the holidays and I made a lot of food. Too much, actually. It’s far too much for us to eat and you know how I feel about food going to waste.” Mahiru leaned against the counter and reached across to take Kuro’s hand. “Will you spend Christmas with me?”

“I would love to.” No other answer could make Mahiru smile wider.

“I think this is the most festive Christmas I’ve ever had. Thank you for helping me clean up.” Mahiru spoke to Kuro in a soft voice because everyone was sleeping in the living room. The party stretched late into the night and Mahiru suggested they sleep over. He didn’t want them to drive through the icy road on a dark night. “I’m glad I have enough blankets for everyone.”

“I should be the one to thank you, Mahiru.” Kuro said. “I’ll find a way to repay you.”

“Think of this night as a Christmas gift from me to you. Though, I wouldn’t mind hot chocolate in the morning if you want a way to repay me.” Mahiru dried his hands once he finished washing the dishes. “It’s late so we should both get to bed. I already put a set of blankets in the living room for you. I’m sorry I don’t have enough beds for everyone.”

“My special talent is that I can sleep anywhere.” He joked and made Mahiru giggle softly. They walked to the living room where his siblings were already asleep. He didn’t turn on the light or else he would wake them. Kuro pushed a chair closer to a piano to create more room for them to sleep. He noticed a few photographs on the piano and asked: “Is that you’re mother? She’s beautiful.”

“She was.” Mahiru’s smile was a mix of nostalgia and melancholy. He brushed his finger over the keys but he didn’t play a note. “This was actually her piano. When I was a kid, I would get so excited for Santa to come that I couldn’t go to bed. She would play Silent Night to help me fall asleep. Those are my fondest Christmas memories. I tried to learn how to play but I have no rhythm.”

Kuro sat on the small piano bench. It was dark so he couldn’t see the keys well. He pressed down on each key until he found the right note. Then, he started to play Silent Night for him. The familiar song filled Mahiru’s heart with warmth. He sat next to him and let the song wash over him. He was spellbound and he didn’t immediately speak once Kuro finished playing.

“Are you that shocked that I know how to play?” Kuro asked. He awkwardly played another song to fill the silence.

“No. Your song was so beautiful, Kuro.” The honesty in his voice made Kuro’s heart skip and he missed a few notes. Mahiru didn’t notice and smiled at him in the dark. Kuro was certain that the way he beamed could brighten the night. “I never knew you were so talented.”

“You can come listen to me play whenever you want. I play at a few bars. The hours aren’t the best but the tips are good.” Kuro enjoyed the piano but he didn’t want to be on a large stage like Licht. He would rather play for the people he loved than a crowd of strangers. “You can make free requests, Mahiru.”

“Can I hear Silent Night again?” Kuro nodded and Mahiru hummed along to his piano. He felt relaxed and sleepy so he leaned his head on his shoulder. He wanted to nestle into his warmth but he stopped himself. “We’ve known each other for a long time but we never had the chance to talk like this. Maybe we can get to know each other more over another dinner with just the two of us.”

Kuro stopped playing and Mahiru looked up at him. “Like a date?”

“Only if you want to.” Mahiru blushed faintly. “Are you free on Friday? I know this place with a great after holiday meal deal.”

[fight-surrender]

Whumptober Day 23, 24: “Bleeding Out & Secret Injury”

Word count: 1610

Rating: T 

Simon

“Fuck a nine toed troll!” I curse as I brush the furry grey creature off my shoulder and impale it with my sword. I tend to quote Penny when I do something stupid. Letting this creature get the drop on me was definitely stupid. Particularly given that it’s just taken a chunk out of my arm.

The animal is dangling from the tip of my sword, speared like a particularly gristly hors d’oeuvre. I bring it in for a closer look. It’s almost cute, vaguely guinea pig like, with grey fur tipped in black. Large purple eyes, green whiskers.  Hell and horrors, it’s a polycythema vera.

Penny and Baz are going to kill me. Probably before this bite does.

They’re already angry that I took this job with the coven, rounding up invasive magickal species. Now I’ve gone and gotten myself bitten by one of the very species I was supposed to be hunting.  This is just spectacular.

I flick the creature to the ground and stab it again for good measure.

Baz and Penny said they saw a vera in America, trying to get into Shep’s truck when we were escaping that rogue gang of freakish magical rejects in the dead zone.  Somehow, one must have stowed away with us and now they’ve invaded England. Fortunately, the trolls rather think veras are delicious, so they keep the population in check. However, pockets tend to accumulate in the areas with fewer bridges. The Coven stepped in to help eradicate them and they asked me to help. I suppose that makes me a magickal pest control guy.

Veras aren’t particularly magickal. I think they can teleport for short distances, making them tricky to catch. They pack a nasty bite though. Their toxin does something to your spleen, making you bleed out internally, only your body keeps making more blood. So instead of passing out and dying like a normal person, you just sort of slowly fill up with blood til you like, explode or something. I haven’t really worked out the logistics.

Now I’ve been bitten.

I am not telling Penny and Baz.

Now that I’ve gotten my shit together (thank you new therapist) they have only recently stopped hovering over me. The last thing I need is them wringing their hands while I die a slow painful, possibly explosive death. I suppose I’ll say my goodbyes when things get bad and die alone in the woods, like a cat.

In the meantime, I imagine I should live my life to the fullest. Carpe diem and whatnot.

Baz:

Something is going on with Simon. He’s acting strange. Not necessarily in a bad way, it all just seems a bit…much. We’ve been out almost every day, a different activity. Yesterday, a leisurely tour of the British Museum, followed by curry and samosas in the park (he made me eat). He also made me return the books I stole all those years ago (I can’t believe he remembered that). Saturday was a visit to Ebb’s grave, deep in the wood. Last week we went to Paris, because he’s never been to France (he says the Watford sour cherry scones are still better than any French pastries).

It’s all been enjoyable; he’s been very attentive.

To me.

Loving, affectionate, present.

But it’s weird.

All of this significance. It feels a bit like a bucket list.

I’m trying to enjoy it, but I’ve been feeling off. Not myself. Like I can’t get warm and I can’t get full. I’m thirsty all the time, and nothing I do seems to be helping. I’ve eaten all the rats within a 20-kilometer radius and I’ve even resorted to buying blood from the local butchers. Nothing is helping.

I can’t get Lamb’s voice out of my head, telling me I was malnourished.

I refuse to follow that thought. I’m not—that.

But I’m also getting really tired. Like, exhausted. Like ‘it’s a struggle to get out of bed’ level tired.

I don’t know how much time I’ve got left.

 Simon:

The poison is kicking in. I’m so tired.

Exhausted. Like, I feel as if my arms and legs were lead weights- tired. Dead dog tired.

I’m not sure how much time I’ve got left.

I don’t have to think about that right now because I’m actually in bed. With Baz, and there’s no place I’d rather be.

I’m the big spoon, because I’m always the big spoon. With my arm across his chest I pull him closer and hike my leg across his thigh. I carefully brush his hair away from his ear so I can murmur, “fancy a lie in?”

“Absolutely yes,” Baz croaks, voice thick with sleep. He intertwines his fingers with mine.

We both doze off.

 Baz:

I wake before Simon. It’s an effort just to open my eyes.

I look at his arm, wrapped around my waist. His color is wrong, his once tawny skin is a vague mottled purple, how have I not noticed this?

 Simon:

I open my eyes and look at Baz’s shoulder in front of me. He’s so pale he’s almost transparent. He’s thinner, I can see the bones poking through his skin. How have I not noticed this?

Baz rolls over and fixes me with his thundercloud eyes. “What the fuck is going on, Snow?”

“Er—what do you mean?” I’m stammering, this isn’t how I’d planned this to go.

“You’ve been dragging me through this virtual bucket list lately, you’re acting weird and now you’re purple!”

“It’s not a bucket list.” It is a bucket list.

“Answer the question.” Baz is using his “don’t fuck with me” voice.

Time to come clean then. I pick at an imaginary string on the duvet. “I may have been bitten by a vera.”

Baz’s eyebrows go down and he looks like he’s going to finish me off himself. “What? When? When the fuck were you going to tell me?”

My plan suddenly feels very stupid. “Well, I was going to tell you, when I felt… you know, closer to death.”

“Closer. To. Death?” Baz’s voice cracks. He looks extra murderous.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want you to feel all sad and melancholy just because I was dying,” I reason.

Baz sighs and buries his head in my chest. “Simon, you splendid fucking moron.”

I think it might be safe to wrap my arms around his waist and pull him on top of me. I try it.

Baz raises his head and his fangs are popped. Not safe then. “Er—I’m not ready to die just yet, Baz.”

His hand goes to his mouth, I don’t think he realized his fangs were there. “Merlin, I’m a mess,” he says this giddily. “You’re a mess,” he’s laughing now. “We’re a mess squared,” he giggles, it’s a bit manic. He lays his head back on my chest.

I pat his back and smile awkwardly, I don’t laugh. I might blow.

Baz lifts his head again, wiping his eyes. “You see,” he stammers, “I have a problem.”

“OK…?” I offer.

He sits up a little, straddling me. He traces my scars with a long, pale finger. “I’m—starving.”

“Well, let’s order delivery then,” I grab his thighs to push him off so I can find my phone. He plants himself, hands to my chest and I can’t move. Vampire strength.

“No love, it’s not that,” he looks down, takes a breath then looks back at me. “I’m starving—of thirst. “The animal blood doesn’t seem to work anymore…” his voice trails off.

“Oh,” my mouth is hanging open, even though Baz has thoroughly trained me to close it.

“So here I am, the bloodthirsty vampire, dying of thirst,” he cracks up again, “with my half dragon boyfriend who is literally dying of excess blood.” He chortles and wipes his eyes again, “it’s like a goth Hallmark movie special. A match made in hell.”

He’s giggling, but he also looks a little sad.

“So,” I say, once he’s caught his breath. “Just so I have this straight,” I point at him, “you don’t have enough blood.” I point at myself, “and I’ve got too much of it?”

“Yes, that about sums it up,” Baz concedes.

Blimey, what are the odds?” I wonder.

“A million to one, I’d wager,” Baz sighs.

“Well, what are you waiting for, you barmy git? Come over here and bite me.”

“It’s not that simple, Snow.” Baz is frowning at me again.

“It bloody well is that simple, Baz,” I say feeling sparks of anger.

“What if I Turn you?” It’s almost a whisper.

“Shepherd said that most vampires don’t Turn people, and so what if you do? I’m going to die anyway if you don’t do anything.  At least this way, you’ll get a good meal out of it, and we can figure out the rest later. We’ve been through worse.”

Baz pushes my hair off my forehead, “we have been through worse.”

I reach up and pull Baz back down on top of me. He settles on my chest. We’re nose to nose. I run my thumbs along his cheekbones. “Now come on and bite me. You look like shit you know.”

“Thank you, Snow. You’re looking rough and weedy yourself.”

I kiss him then, even though that’s probably not a good idea, given the blood lust.

“Are you ready?” I ask.

“No.”

“Will you do it anyway?”

“Yes.”

“I love you, Baz.”

“I love you too, Simon.”

I close my eyes, and then, in a rush of warmth and cedar and bergamot, Baz bites my neck.

[heartofsnark]

Black Market Wonderland (Chapter Eight): Here Comes The Sun

Notes: After 9000000000 Years Tsuneko returns, sorry for the break, I’d say it won’t happen again but it will. I know me, sometimes I try to write and my brain says no, you won’t be doing that. Plus, grad school and internship and everything else that is life. I have three chapters written, including this and I also have a new series I’ve been working on. So, i promise Snarky is writing. 

Word Count: 11, 621

Warnings: Angst (is that even a warning here, like everything is sad man), mamo is a gross man who eats garbage, lying and cursing?

Missed the last chapter? Link Here!

She saw the man beneath the Mad Hatter costume.  For just the briefest second, she saw him. There and gone within a blink of an eye. She could almost convince herself that it didn’t happen, that it was a shadow or a weird flicker of light, she’s tired and seeing things, but she knows better. Any hope of reforming that odd connection they had before has been dashed now that she’s seen the human beneath the costume. 

One look at his panic-stricken expression and she can’t see him as anything other than painfully human. He may still be disconnected from her life and the world outside of Wonderland, but he’s not as far removed from reality as she once thought.

And that’s for the best. Seeing him as anything less was wrong, she knows that. 

But, what does she do now? 

She drums her fingers along the box of pastries, biting her lip, trying to figure out her next step. He doesn’t seem fond of the idea of her seeing him like this, he ran away for god’s sake. Following along with it would be easy, write a note, put the cupcakes down and pretend she never saw him. 

Is that for the best, though?

Hiding away from reality, from everyone, and hiding behind a character. That’s not healthy. It can’t be. Granted, Tsuneko is far from the authority on mental health and maybe she’s in no place to help anyone else, but…

Ignoring would be bad, she’s saying ignoring is bad.

Being delicate isn’t her strong suit, her approach to life is more akin to a bull in a china shop. But, ambushing the Hatter with reality doesn’t strike her as the greatest idea. He seems fragile, to say the least, the proverbial china she’s trying not to break.

She strengthens her resolve with a deep breath and takes the few steps towards his bedroom door, knocking on it. There’s a small sound of rustling, like he’s panicking. Tsuneko chews her lip for a moment before she speaks. 

“Hey…are you a friend of the Hatter?’

She gives him an out. It’s not avoiding it, but she’s giving him a chance. He has the choice, play along or tell the truth. She’ll meet him where he’s at.  The door opens just a small crack and heat floods her face and a small noise of exclamation catches in her throat as she gets a second good look at the Hatter.

He’s adorable. Ridiculously so. Big dark doe eyes that widen at the sight of her. Thick glossy black hair just starting to dry. His facial features are soft and delicate for a man, his skin is not as ghostly white as the Hatter costume, but he’s pale enough that she can see a few faint traces of blue veins.  

“I’m…a friend of the Hatter,” he finally says, the voice is the same but softer. The flamboyance and vigor of the Hatter has been replaced by shyness and uncertainty.  

A part of her is disappointed that he takes the out. But patience is a virtue that she desperately needs to work on. Considering how it wasn’t that long ago that she was yelling at him, she can’t be shocked that he’s not ready to be vulnerable with her. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” she offers, but he doesn’t seem any more comfortable, he seems desperate to hide back in the bedroom. 

His eyes shift downward to the side, not meeting her gaze for a moment longer. For a moment his mouth gapes open, but no words come out, stuck in his throat despite how clear it is he has something he wants to say. A soft bite to his lip before his whisper of a voice meets her ears again. 

“What…what are you doing here?” 

There’s a tremble to his voice and she wonders for a moment if this is normal for him, or if her tirade from before has made him more fearful of her. 

“Oh, uh, I actually wanted to talk to the Hatter…to apologize. I, kinda snapped at him the other day and said a lot of stuff I didn’t mean to.” 

“Oh…”

“I, uh, brought lemon chiffon cupcakes for him, figured might make him feel better. I’m, uh sure, he wouldn’t mind if you had some, if you want ‘em.” 

She’s rambling. She knows she’s rambling, why isn’t her mouth stopping, who made her like this?

“I mean, I don’t know if you two have the same taste or whatever, but who doesn’t like cupcakes, so-”

“I’ll….,” his whisper makes her shut up, “let him know you stopped by.” 

“Okay, uh, I’ll leave the cupcakes on the table, for whoever wants them.”

The hint of a soft smile pulls at his lips and it feels like she’s seen a new plushie, every fiber of her being screaming at her to hug him and coo over how cute he is. 

“Night, Alice…” 

His whispers again, before shutting the door. She takes a deep breath and puts the cupcakes out on the table, this isn’t exactly how she wanted this to go. But, given the situation, she’s not sure what else she can do.

A more proper talk or apology would have eased the tension tight in her chest. The cool air does nothing to soothe her as she makes her way back to her dorm.  It’s late and the dormitory is desolate, it seems like by the time she returns every night the building has become a ghost town. 

Since she’s been working at the hotel, her only constant companion has been Kiyo, which is her own fault. She’s kept people at a distance. The Hatter has locked himself alone in Wonderland with just Cheshire to stave away loneliness.  Maybe that’s why she wants to help him. She keeps telling herself time and time again that she needs to get her shit together, but then something sends her spiraling right back to that dark place. 

Within the same week, she went from being determined to get out of this and get her life back on track to questioning if she should end it all within less than a week. It’s erratic. She’s stuck in her own head and destroying herself. 

She lets Kiyo free roam while she grabs a shower. The hot water and steam help clear her mind, letting her relax for a moment. Her mind continuously drifts to the situation of everything. Both with the Hatter, the penthouse guests, and what comes after all of this. 

A part of her wants to help the Hatter, another part of her thinks she can’t help anyone if she’s a mess herself. A part of her wants to get back into University, another part of her says it’s not worth it, just wants to end everything. 

Her emotions and thoughts are constantly ricocheting and contradicting each other, she can’t seem to get a handle on what she actually wants or needs to do. 

The water runs cold and she forces herself out from under it. The air is cold on her skin and she groans, running a hand over her face. 

She might have been content with being a maid, the job and benefits itself are fine, but with the auctions she wants as far away from the hotel as possible. 

Helping the Hatter would be nice, but she can’t. It’s not her place nor her job. Her life is in shambles, she’s in no place to play savior. Helping with a robbery is one thing, addressing his mental health is too much. She can’t get involved. 

But, if she wins the bet, what does she want? Logically, she knows suicide is no answer. She knows that she doesn’t really want to die, but she can’t help thinking it’s better for everyone. 

Tsuneko dries off and pulls on pajamas before leaving the bathroom. Falling back on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Every time she thinks of what she wants, her brain drifts back to one childish answer. 

She wants to go home. Kyushu, back to her childhood home, not dorm rooms in Tokyo. She wants a hug from her dad. But, he doesn’t know about her expulsion. He thinks she’s still in school, working on her degree. She’s avoiding talking to him for almost a year now, because she doesn’t want to tell him. Doesn’t want to disappoint him. 

So much of her childhood, she talked about getting out of there, being a child, he could be proud of and she failed. Then she lied about it. Why would he want anything to do with her? She’s took her shot and missed. Now, she wants to go running back home to her dad. It’s pathetic, what if he doesn’t want anything to do with her. 

Despite her ignoring, he still calls and leaves voicemails regularly, she just doesn’t answer. She’ll shoot quick texts about being busy with school, enough that he knows she’s not dead. He’s so proud of her for working so hard. If he doesn’t know, she keeps that. But, if she tells him the truth, she risks losing it, losing him. What if he hates her for it? 

What is he going to tell people? His daughter who went off to become some hotshot lawyer cleans bathrooms for a living now. He’d be just as embarrassed as she is, he’d never want to talk to her again. 

But is this any better?

She doesn’t know when tears started, hot and wet on her cheeks. It’s not the panicky sobs she’s had lately, a soft quiet sort of melancholy. She scrubs a hand over her eyes. 

She’s been afraid of losing her dad, but she’s basically already lost him if she’s cutting him off. Hasn’t she? 

There’s a tug on her hand where it hangs over the bed, Kiyo’s teeth wrapped around her fingers. Not enough to break skin or hurt, he squirms backwards trying to steal her away from her thoughts. 

“What are you doing, baby boy?” 

She lets him lead her by the finger, having to hunch over to do so. Kiyo takes her to his little stash of toys. It’s a mish mash of toys bought specifically for him and stuffed animals he’s decided are now his, plus whatever he’s stolen. 

“Yes, I know, I got you- are those my socks?” 

He excitedly let’s go of her hand to show his new toy, a pair of her socks. 

“Not only are you a thief, you’re stupid enough to show me what you stole? Really, Kiyo, are you that proud of yourself?” 

She makes a grab to get the socks out of his mouth, but he promptly runs off with them. Eyes still rimmed red with tears, she laughs and chases after him. Peals of laughter and Kiyo’s dooking noises fill the dorm as she runs after him. After nearly knocking into her dresser, she manages to scoop him up in her arms. He lets go of her socks and snuggles against her. Her fingers scratch over his fur as she sits down on her bed.

“You’re sick of seeing your mommy cry, aren’t you baby?” 

She holds him out in front of her, he makes a soft noise and she considers that a confirmation. 

“Well, I’m done throwing a pity party. If I have time to cry about it, I have time to do something about it. I’m gonna win the bet, then I’m biting the bullet and coming clean about everything to my dad. Then I’m gonna get to work to actually change my life.” 

He makes an excited dooking noise, the sound of it strengthens her resolve even more.

“I’ll go in early tomorrow, to ask Kenzaki about looking at security footage, get the information from the Hatter, and have a proper talk. I’m not gonna get too involved, but I’m not gonna keep anymore distance than normal.”

Kiyo yawns, tongue sticking out of his mouth when he closes it again. His eyes are starting to drift shut. 

“Okay, time for bed then, good talk.” 

Tsuneko smooches the top of his head then gets him settled in for the night. She reads over the auction items again and paints her nails. The sparkly red polish is replaced with a deep dark indigo.  She’s managed to clear her head a bit more before she finally goes to sleep. 

Having caught her second wind, Tsuneko walks with confidence into the Tres Spades. It’s early morning, even earlier than usual, but she doesn’t sleep much. There’s not a lot if activity in the lobby at this hour and Kenzaki is at the check in desk. 

“You’re here early, Tomori,” Kenzaki comments with his usual serene expression. 

“Yeah, I was actually hoping to help out with the guest in the tea room, is there anyway I could look at the security footage for the back lot?”

“That shouldn’t be necessary anymore.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Security isn’t something you need to concern yourself with, Tomori.” 

“Yeah, ‘cause I’ve never had an issue with safety here,” she grumbles under her breath and turns to leave.

“Actually, there was something I needed to speak with you about as well.” 

“Hm?” 

“Do you remember the Renard family?” 

“Yeah, they were here a month or two ago, right?” Tsuneko nods, the little girl Anais ended up clinging to Tsuneko’s side for a good portion of her stay since her parents were busy. 

“Yes, they checked in late last night. It appears you made quite an impression on their daughter, they’re requesting you attend to their room and watch over her during their stay.”

“Aren’t they VIP guests?” Tsuneko raises an eyebrow, VIP’s are specifically Erika and the twin’s responsibility. 

“Yes, which is why it’s important to fulfil their request.”

“Fine by me.” 

Unlike the penthouse maid, this is something she’s actually earned, and Erika isn’t going to ruin it for her. 

“Please meet with them in the lobby at the beginning of your shift.” 

“Understood.” 

With that Tsuneko starts to walk down to Wonderland. Hopefully, the Hatter has had a chance to write down what she asked of him. There should logically be a list of people who’ve participated in the auction and what they’ve sold, assuming Ichinomiya isn’t running a disorganized shit show. If the Hatter remembers what the March Hare and Dormouse were carrying or even what date it was, she could ask one of the penthouse residents to check it against the list of participants. It’s a long shot, but since Kenzaki won’t let her look at security footage, it’s her best bet. 

She takes the stairs down two at a time, her steps echoing. As she’s nearing the bottom, she realizes her steps aren’t the only ones ringing out. Along with shuffling and muffled talking. Anxiety creeps up her spine and settles in the back of her mind. Did those men come back? Who else is down here?  Her pace quickens and she jumps the last few steps, her feet hitting the concrete with a heavy noise. 

 Two men are packing a familiar bronze statue, they pause and shoot her confused looks. She never saw the Dormouse and March Hare out of costume, but it would be odd to return the items they’ve stolen. The strangers shake their heads and pack the statue into Wonderland, the door open for them.  She trails in after them, there’s even more men she doesn’t recognize in Wonderland, all packing items that belong to the Hatter. Her eyes narrow, what is happening?

“Excuse me, Miss.” Someone says behind her, carrying what looks like a broken globe, and she moves out of his way and utters an apology. At least they’re polite, whoever they are. Though, some of them certainly look terrifying. 

“Alice~! Good morning!” 

The Hatter’s sing song voice rings out over all other noise, he’s back in costume, no signs of the shy young man she spoke to last night. Tsuneko avoids the men moving items, making her way to the costumed man. 

“Hey, what’s going on?” 

“Isn’t it wonderful? All my treasures are being returned~!” 

“That’s fantastic, but how…?” 

It had to be the penthouse guys, there’s no other explanation. But they didn’t seem to care about it yesterday. Did she manage to get through to Ichinomiya? That seems…unlikely, no, impossible. Tsuneko is stubborn and annoying, but even she’s not strong enough to get through Ichinomiya’s impenetrable wall of bullshit. 

“I’m so happy, Alice~!” 

“I’m glad, I know it’s been a rough couple days for you,” she murmurs, scratching at the back of her neck. 

His expressions fall, like he suddenly remembers the fight. Perhaps he was caught up in the moment. He won’t meet her eyes, instead staring at a random spot on the ground like it’s the single most interesting thing in the world. 

“I’m really sorry about the way I snapped at you, I said a lot of mean things and you didn’t deserve that…” Tsuneko murmurs, why are apologies so hard, “I know it doesn’t make it okay, but I was just in a shitty place, then you came in and started calling me ugly, and I just, I don’t know, got pissed.” 

“Called you ugly? I would never.” He looks up at her like she’s just scalded him. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I said your tears are ugly, not you…I don’t like seeing you cry. Tears and pain are ugly things, so I want you to be happy, especially in Wonderland with me…” 

A soft look comes over his face and guilt pangs in her chest, this whole thing was a misunderstanding. She snapped at him over nothing, Tsuneko has always been the type to go for the jugular, to cut people down at the slightest sign of cruelty. It’s not healthy, but she’s never managed to stop it. 

“For someone who stresses the importance of words, you’re not the best communicator, huh?” 

She flashes him a soft smile and hopes it gets everything across. That aching desire to just forget it all and move on like it never happened. Tsuneko fiddles with a lock of hair, waiting for his response. 

“Maybe not, it seems I hurt you, I’m sorry, A-” His words dye in his throat and she can slowly see him acting more like the shy boy from last night. 

“You can call me Alice; I didn’t mean that.”  In all honesty the only thing she genuinely is hurt about in the long run is the being sold stuff, the Hatter’s complacency in that.  But, unlike the penthouse guests, he didn’t buy her and isn’t holding her to the arrangement. So, if nothing else, he remains the lesser of evils and she’d rather keep their relationship civil. 

“Really?” He smiles bright and some of the guilt that’s eaten its way into her chest fades away. 

“Really. Now, I have to go get ready for my shift, but we’ll hang again soon, celebrate your stuff being returned, I promise.” 

She touches his back for a moment in what she hopes is a reassuring gesture, before they say their byes. There’s a bit of time before her actual shift, but she wants to talk to the penthouse guys about what happened with the Hatter’s things. Tsuneko walks about the men, feeling a twinge at guilt at not offering help, before making her way up the stairs. 

The elevator ride is spent fiddling with her phone, playing Monster Lovers, her crane game, and checking social media. Just finding idle things to pass the time through the long elevator ride, it seems to take forever given the sheer height of the hotel. She tries not to pout when she sees that Shinobu still hasn’t bothered to message her back. 

She’s scrolling through Instagram with one hand and fiddling with the good luck charm in her pocket with the other when the elevator comes to a stop. Tsuneko tucks her phone away and heads to the lounge, seeing the group of men in their usual spots. 

“You’re here early, Princess.” To the shock of no one, Baba is the first person to greet her. 

“Yeah, I wanted to check on the Hatter, all his stuff was found?” 

“Ugh, I heard enough about that freak last night,” Kisaki grumbles. 

“That’s the pot calling the kettle black, now isn’t it?” 

“Are you seriously comparing me to him?” Kisaki narrows his eyes and scoffs in disgust.  

“Yeah, that’s not fair to the Hatter.” 

“Sor and Mamo were working all night to get Maddie’s stuff back.” 

“Really?” 

“He’s being dramatic, as usual, it didn’t take that long,” Oh cuts in, not bothering to look at Tsuneko, “the slacker managed to get their plate number from security footage and with the information the Hatter wrote down we were able to get a name.” 

“It still must have taken most of the night, I mean you probably didn’t even start looking into it until late.”  

Smirks play across Oh, Baba, and Kisaki’s lips, like there’s something they know that she doesn’t. Dread pits in her stomach and she finds herself looking over at Ichinomiya, the only one who isn’t currently smirking like a wiseass, unless you count the sleeping Kishi. Instead of a smirk, Ichinomiya is scowling, and she can’t help remembering him covered in cupcake frosting. 

“Boss told them to start looking right after we left the tea room,” Baba tells her and she clenches her jaw, he was having them help the Hatter the entire evening.  If she had known that she never would have thrown her little tantrum, probably.  Seems like lashing out when she didn’t have all the information was the theme of yesterday. 

“He made sure to help your boyfriend as soon as possible,” Kisaki teases and she resists the urge to kick him. 

“Fuck off,” she groans out instead, rolling her eyes before directing her attention to Ichinomiya, “so…. I guess I probably might owe you an apology for the cupcakes thing, huh?”

“That suit costs more than you make in a year.” 

“Well, who’s fault is that, boss.”

He narrows his eyes at her, glare intense, while the rest of the men snicker. She meets his glare, this is mostly his fault anyway, he could have just said they were looking into it. If he had just told her, everything would have been fine, probably. 

“Was that your attempt at an apology?” 

“Yeah, but then you went and ruined it,” she crosses her arms over her chest and pouts, “besides, this isn’t all my fault.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Literally all you had to do was tell me you were having it taken care of.”

“I don’t need to explain myself to you.” 

“Would have saved your suit, though.”  

“Shouldn’t you be working?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going, asshole.” 

She leaves them to snicker and cackle at Ichinomiya like hyenas. Tsuneko spends the elevator ride back down to the main floor reviewing photos she took of the auction item list, reviewing it for what feels like the thousandth time. Overall, she’s on cloud nine, compare to the past couple days. Her issues with the Hatter are resolved, as well as him getting his stuff back. She has a clearer idea of what she wants, how she’s going to move on from this whole ordeal if she gets the chance. With being asked to look after Anais today, she’s getting something resembling a promotion she’s actually earned. And, moreover, this is officially the seventh day of the bet. 

By midnight tonight, she’ll be halfway through and if anything, she’s proven to Ichinomiya why she’s a detriment. She’s thrown cupcakes at him, for god’s sake. Tsuneko’s done nothing of value that’s unique to her.  A part of her is just waiting for him to tell her she’s not worth the headache, just let her go, but he’s the stubborn type, sadly. But, she’s feeling good about her odds of winning in the moment. If nothing else, she’s in a significantly better headspace. For the first time in a long time, she feels like there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. Just the tiniest iota of hope. 

The female locker room is empty when she arrives, and she goes through the routine of changing. Slowly a few other coworkers trickle in Chisato is the first of her two friends, the older maid gives Tsuneko a soft smile before speaking. 

“You look like you’re in a better mood.” 

“I am, thanks again for, uh, baby sitting my drunk ass. I promise it won’t happen again,” Tsuneko tells her, making a note to lock the door next time she drinks. 

“It’s fine, you were pretty entertaining.” A smirk pulls at Chisato’s lips and heat crawls up Tsuneko’s face. 

“Yeah, I uh, owe Sakiko an apology.”  Tsuneko scratches at the back of her neck, she’s fucked up a lot in the last couple days. 

“Speak of the devil.”

Sakiko enters the locker and fast walks to her locker, not stopping to make eye contact with either of the maids. Despite no one saying anything to her, a blush is already creeping up her cheeks. 

“Hey…sorry about the whole, uh, drunk thing.” The blushing is contagious, her face feels like it’s on fire. 

“Let’s not talk about that, it’s fine, let’s just move on.” 

“I didn’t know you got like that when you drink,” Chisato says, not letting them move on. 

“Everyone acts weird when they’re drunk, shut up.” 

“What’s that saying, in wine there’s truth, maybe deep down you just really like making out with people.” 

“Shut up!”

Tsuneko’s face flushes cherry red as she shoves Chisato, barely jostling the older maid. This isn’t the first time something like this has happened, but Tsuneko thought it was just a fluke.  Maybe, drunk Tsuneko is just a kissing machine. Chisato and Sakiko laugh at Tsuneko, making her face flush brighter. 

“She’s so violent,” Sakiko teases.

“I’m not violent!” She yells violently swinging her fists at nothing in particular. 

Once they’re all dressed and ready for their respective jobs, they leave the locker room, Chisato and Sakiko still laughing at Tsuneko’s expense. They drift into the lobby, a steady slow thrum of activity there.  She needs to wait on the Renard family to drop off Anais and give Tsuneko her schedule. 

“Hey! What’s the meaning of this!?” Erika screeches as she marches across the lobby towards them, stopping in front of Tsuneko with the twins behind her. 

“What the meaning of this?” 

“Good morning to you too.” 

“What is this about you watching the Renard’s daughter?” 

“I’m watching their daughter; you literally said all the things that need to be said about it.” 

“They’re VIP’s, you have no right to be working with them.” 

“No right!” 

“I mean they specifically requested me, so…” 

“What kind of stunts are you pulling for this to keep happening?!” 

“I’m just doing my job, what’s up your ass?” 

“First it’s the penthouse position and now you’re stealing VIP’s from me, that’s what’s ‘up my ass’,” Erika bitches and pulls out air quotes at the end. 

“You’re the one who said I shouldn’t throw away opportunities, right?” 

“I didn’t mean steal them from me!” 

“It’s not my fault you scare children.” 

“I do not scare children!” 

“You screech like a demon and hang out with The Shining twins; no kid wants to deal with that.”

“What’s going on here?” Kuroba is the one to cut in, where Kenzaki is, Tsuneko’s not sure. 

“I was just saying that with her new position, Tomori might be too busy to watch over the Renard family’s daughter.” 

“I’m sure she’ll be able to handle it.” Kuroba flashes a soft smile at Erika and puts a hand on Tsuneko’s shoulder as a sign of solidarity. 

“I can always take some of her rooms, if she needs it,” Chisato chimes in. 

“Well, I’m happy to see it’s under control then.” Erika forces a smile before storming off, the twins scrambling to follow after her. 

“Why is she always on your case, I swear to god,” Sakiko complains. 

“Like, I know.” 

“I know, but nobody listens to me.” That earns Chisato a glare from Tsuneko, is she still thinking Erika has some sort of crush? It’s ridiculous. 

“You’re one of the few people who talk back to her,” Kuroba adds his two cents. 

“And it makes her want to smooch you,” Chisato grumbles. 

“Huh?” 

“Don’t worry about it!” she pushes at Kuroba’s shoulder flustered that Chisato will push her inane ideas on him, “thanks for the help, we’ll talk later okay.” 

Chisato and Sakiko find her frazzled goodbyes hilarious, because everyone loves mocking Tsuneko. 

“Can you two chuckle fu-Ah!” 

“Tsuneko!” A soft French accented voice rings out as Anais nearly topples her over with a hug, a blur of white blonde hair. She laughs and scoops the girl up, spinning her and making her giggle before putting her back down. 

“How are you sweetie?” 

Anais is adorable, around seven years old with bright blue eyes and white blonde hair pulled into a little ponytail. Tsuneko fights a pout when she realizes the child isn’t even a full foot shorter than her

“We’ll leave you to it,” Chisato calls out before her and Sakiko go on their way. 

“Mommy and daddy took me to the Pompompurin café, look at what I got!” 

She holds out a keychain that has a little plush of the yellow dog character.  On their last stay at the hotel Anais fell in love with Tsuneko’s cute stationary, so she made sure to recommend the family visit the cute Sanrio themed restaurant.

“That’s so cute, so is Pompompurin your favorite?” 

“Yes! I love him, my mommy even let me get the big sundae with his face.” 

“That’s awesome, the desserts there are so good.” 

“Anais was in heaven, thank you so much for recommending it,” a woman’s voice thanks Tsuneko and she looks up to see Esme and Julien, Anai’s parents. 

Tsuneko doesn’t keep up much with the rich and famous, but Sakiko was determined to give her an unwanted crash course on the family last time. Julien is an older man, perhaps too old to have a seven-year-old daughter and a young wife, with graying hair in a simple conservative suit. He owns a publishing company, that’s pumped out a few bestsellers. 

Esme is glitzier, long white blonde hair curling over her shoulders and makeup that brings out the blue of her eyes. She’s an actress and former model, who started her own modeling agency at the age of 30. As such the two are often traveling with their daughter, for scouting authors and models for their respective jobs as well as Esme’s acting. 

“I’m glad she enjoyed it, I know a few other spots she might like, actually I think Puroland is having a show this weekend with special ticket deals,” she suggest the Sanrio themed amusement park, it has an array of restaurants and rides, along with parades and shows. 

Anai’s eyes go wide and she looks at her parents in excitement, not asking, but her plea is clear. 

“Can you write down the times and where it is for us? I’m sure we can manage a day off,” Julien offers and ruffles his daughter’s hair. 

“No problem, I’ll make a note of it for you.”

“Thank you so much for watching her, I know it’s a lot to ask, we have a schedule for her. Just take her back our room when it’s time for her lessons and for meals, so we can all eat together, then her bedtime of course,” she explains as she hands Tsuneko a neat little schedule of when Anais needs to be back at their room.

Esme and Julien are busy, but they always ensure they can eat lunch and dinner with their daughter. Despite not always being able to spend much time with her and taking Anais all across the country, the couple does make a genuine effort to always spend at least some time with their daughter. Busy rich parents are something she’s seen time and time again since she’s started working at the Tres Spades. Many just leave their children at the hotel while they work, then spend the rest of the time in the casino neglecting their children in a new way. It’s refreshing to see parents who try to make that effort. 

“That’s fantastic, since I need to clean the penthouse.” Tsuneko has no desire to bring the little girl anywhere near the penthouse or its residents. 

“You’ve been promoted?” Julien raises an eyebrow, they’re well aware that she hasn’t been with the hotel long in the grand scheme of things. 

“They must really want to keep you around here,” Esme beams. 

“You have no idea.”

The couple gives Anais hugs and kisses, before asking her to behave then leaving for work. A soft pout pulls at the girl’s features as she watches her parents leave, even with them making an effort, she must still wish they could spend more time with her. Tsuneko gently pokes at Anais’s cheek, earning her a half-hearted glare. 

“You’re gonna be my little helper today, right?”

“Yeah.” 

“Well, you have to smile,” Tsuneko points at her own soft smile, “it makes everyone else around you feel better and you’ll feel better too.” 

Anais tries to smile wide, but because she’s trying t0o hard, it looks awkward. As if her cheeks are being unnaturally stretched, Tsuneko can help but laugh, making the girl pout again. 

“Don’t laugh,” she whines as Tsuneko gets a small candy from her pocket. 

“This might help you.” 

The girl takes the little strawberry candy and eagerly pops it into her mouth, a genuine smile now stretched across her face. 

“Much better, now let’s get to work.” Tsuneko types alarms into her phone for each time Anais needs to be returned to her parent’s room, before taking the girl with her to get a cleaning cart. 

Anais steps on the edge of the cleaning cart, riding along as Tsuneko pushes it, giggling when she makes it move quicker. Since other than the penthouse, it’s the only room out of her way, Tsuneko takes them to the Renard’s VIP room to clean first. Anais is eager to help, even with the most mundane tasks, the Tres Spades doesn’t offer much for children, even cleaning is entertainment. 

Tsuneko makes sure to do the more arduous or grosser tasks, such as cleaning the bathroom. She’s watching Anais, not traumatizing her. The Renard’s room isn’t bad by any stretch, but she knows once they get to normal guests’ room and later in the day, the rooms will get progressively more difficult.

They’re working in the third regular guests’ room when Tsuneko needs to leave a note, they’re out and she’s left a stack of brochures they’ve requested. She gets out a pad of bunny shaped notes and a pen, Anais’s eyes sparkle at the stationary and the sight makes Tsuneko smile. 

“Anais, you can write in English, can’t you?” 

“Yeah, I have neat handwriting too.” 

“Great, can you just write out, ‘The brochures you requested, hope you find something that catches your eye’ on here?” 

“Yeah,” Anais agrees and neatly writes the note, her handwriting clear and easy to understand. Tsuneko takes a moment to try to doodle little spades around the words. 

“What are those?” 

“They’re little spades, like the Tres Spades.” 

“They look like deformed hearts.”

“Well, who asked you,” Tsuneko sputters, cheeks red.

“Why is the note in English?” 

“English is the guest’s first language, so leaving notes in English and speaking to them in their native language helps them feel more at home while they stay here.” 

“You can write and speak in English?” 

Tsuneko works as Anais bounces around to follow her, filled with questions. She can’t help giggling at the young girl’s excitement. 

“I’m good at writing in English and can speak it alright, thanks to school, I bet you know lots of languages, since you travel so much.” 

“I know French, Japanese, English, Italian, Spanish, Russian, and I’m learning Mandarin.” 

A cough sputters out of Tsuneko’s mouth and she can’t help blinking at the child, six languages and working on the seventh. She assumed her parent’s status could afford Anais a fantastic education despite the frequent travels, but that seems unreal.  A seven year old  is more accomplished than her, fuck. 

“That’s impressive, I only know Japanese, English, and JSL.”

“JSL?”

“Japanese sign language, it’s talking with your hands, it’s used by people who can’t hear.” 

“Oooh, that’s really cool.” 

“Yeah, um, for example this means, my name is Tsuneko,” she recalls the old college course and signs an introduction, to the delight of Anais. 

“Woah, I wanna learn!” 

“Okay, you’re here for around a week, right?” 

Anais nods her head, ponytail bobbing with the quick motion. 

“Well, I’ll try to teach you some JSL, if you teach me some languages you know too, enough to greet guests and talk a bit to them.” 

“Yeah, I can do that!”

“Sounds like a deal.” 

Tsuneko has language books and sometimes tries to use google translate, but guests have told her it can be a little rough. They usually appreciate the effort, but Tsuneko has always wanted to learn more and doing it while she works with the Anais will save time. 

Her phone goes off, the first alarm to return Anais back to the room for lessons and lunch. Anais has taught her some basic greetings in French and Italian, though her pronunciation is rough, meanwhile Tsuneko has taught her a few yubimoji signs. She takes Anais up to her parents’ room and gives a less than stellar goodbye in French. 

Between lessons and her eating lunch, Tsuneko has around two or three hours before she needs to come back and get Anais. That should be enough time to clean up the penthouse and maybe grab something to eat, but she might have to eat late. 

She spends the elevator ride up reciting what Anais taught her; she’d look crazy if anyone else was around. Tsuneko feels like she has the greeting understood and her pronunciation at least marginally better. 

Walking into the lounge, Tsuneko knows she made the right decision not to drag poor Anais up here. Oh and Ichinomiya are gone this time around, but Kisaki, Baba, and Kishi have made an absolute mess. Poker chips and cards are strewn about, liquor bottles despite it not even being noon, and overflowing ashtrays.  Baba and Kisaki are playing  cards, while Kishi is sitting up on a couch, puffing on a cigarette. She considers it a miracle anytime she sees him and he’s not napping. 

She pinches the bridge of her nose and resists the urge to groan, walking into the lounge feels like stepping into a chimney thanks to Kishi. Even with how large the room is, his presence seems downright noxious, like he sweats cigarette smoke. 

“Hey, pretty lady.” 

“You don’t need to talk to me every time I enter the room.” 

“As if I could ever resist talking to a beautiful woman when I see one.” 

“You see a beautiful woman somewhere, Kishi?” 

“Just you two jackasses and a kid.” 

“I’m gonna open the window and get some of the smoke smell out of here.” 

“Might as well just ask Kishi to leave.” 

“Hey, it’s not that bad.” 

Tsuneko continues to ignore them and opens the large windows to the lounge, the ones that overlook the Tokyo Bay. The sun feels warm against her skin and there’s a gentle breeze coming through, the water seems to sparkle where the light hits it. It’s shame such a wonderful view can only be seen from such a shitty place. 

She forces herself away from the window, no matter how much she wants to soak up the sun. Maybe if she gets a chance to get away, she should go to the beach. Relaxing and sunbathing sounds nice. Tsuneko instead gets to cleaning up the absolute mess the three men have made. 

"You owe me for last night, kid," Kishi's raspy voice interrupts her.

"Excuse you?" She stops what she's doing to raise an eyebrow at him, the hell is he on about?

"I had to work all night to get your little boyfriend's crap back."

"Firstly, the next person who throws the boyfriend word around is getting strangled. Secondly, you're a cop, dealing with robberies is your job,” she grumbles, returning to cleaning as she talks. 

"Robberies ain't my department, you owe me, brat."

"You did your job; you want a cookie?"

"I'll take lunch."

"You make more money than me!"

"I'm just a humble public servant," he tells her with a shit eating grin.

"Humble public servant, my ass."

"I gotta tell you Mamo, if this is how you try to get dates, I'm a little disappointed," Baba cuts in with an overdramatic look of disapproval. 

Kishi chokes on his cigarette and sputters out a cloud of smoke. Tsuneko rolls her eyes, god these men are idiots. 

"Don't be stupid, someone would have to be real desperate to date a kid like her."

"Ugh, between the Hatter and the old men, you really attract freaks, Koro. 

"You say, still treating me like a dog."

"You know it would be so much easier if you just learned to behave."

"It would be so much easier if you lost the ability to talk."

"Then who would give you commands?"

Tsuneko rolls her eyes and bites her tongue, she’s cleaned up the majority of the mess, though she knows it will be a disaster when she returns in the evening. 

“Do you want me to leave the window open or close it before I go?” 

They give her the go ahead to leave it open, mostly because Kishi shows no sign of slowing down on the smoking. With that taken care of she ventures towards the suites. By the time she’s finished with them, thanks to Kishi’s suite mostly, she only has around half an hour before she needs to pick up Anais again. 

She can grab a little lunchbox or something quick at a convenience store, it’s not much, but it’ll be food in her belly. The cafeteria is closer and has nicer food sure, but the line of employees makes it take longer. 

Tsuneko ventures the quick walk from the Tres Spades to the nearest store, the same one Baba apparently works at part time. She scans the aisles and shelves; she’s looking over the freezer stuff when she sees something. Generally, convenience store food is pretty good, but among the refrigerator areas there’s a little boxed sushi lunch jammed back in a corner. Like, someone crammed it back in there and it’s been stuck. 

Just a peek at it through the clear plastic lid, she can tell it’s gone bad. The sushi is discolored, and it just looks slimy, mushy. A smirk pulls at her lips and she pries the little meal out of its corner. She can practically smell it through the container. Kishi wanted lunch, right. 

The cashier looks down oddly at it, the clearly bad sushi meal for Kishi, while she grabbed some hot skewers of karage and a bottle of juice for herself. 

“Uh,” they stammer, “I can switch that out for a fresh one.” 

“No, that’s fine.” 

Another strange look before they just shrug and ring her up. Tsuneko eats her own food on the walk back, finishing the skewers and juice by the time she returns to the hotel. A double check of time lets her know she has time to run back up to the penthouse and drop off Kishi’s ‘lunch’. 

By the time she’s gotten back up to the penthouse, a part of her is just eager to dump off the gross lunch. The smell of it is making her stomach churn just a little bit. Whoever crammed it back into that fridge, it was there for a while. 

“You’re back already, princess?” 

“You think we’re that messy?” 

“You wanted lunch, right, Kishi?’ She’s grinning as she drops the nasty meal into the old man’s lap. 

“How did you find something that smells worst than him?” Kisaki covers his nose with his head, but he’s cracking up. 

“Shut it,” Kishi grumbles out as he inspects the meal, she expects him to turn his nose up at it, call her a brat or something, but he opens it instead. 

“Oh god.” Tsuneko dry heaves at the smell coming from the sushi meal, just the ungodly stench of rotted fish. She shuffles closer to the open window, hoping the breeze will blow away some of the stench. 

“Where did you even find that, princess?” 

“It was just jammed back in some corner of the shelves, like someone hid it.” 

Baba and Kisaki are faring about as well as she is, but Kishi doesn’t seem remotely bothered. He unwraps the chopsticks that come with the meal, he’s not seriously going to eat it, is he?

“Eh,” he shrugs, “I’ve had worse.” 

“Don’t be-Oh god!” 

There’s a crunch from the rice, the nasty hardened rice, as Kishi bites down on a piece of sushi. She can’t imagine how disgusting that must taste, hard rice and slimy rotted fish. Tsuneko nearly pukes up what little lunch she had, as Kishi just swallows it, going for another piece. 

“That’s disgusting,” Kisaki comments, but he’s laughing, mostly at Tsuneko’s reaction. 

“How can you eat that?!” She manages to ask through gags. 

“What else would I do with it?” Kishi says with a mouthful of rotten sushi, the smell wafting out of his mouth could peel paint, Tsuneko nearly vomits. 

“Tell me to fuck off and throw it out, like a normal person!” 

“He literally eats out of the trash.”

“Why would you do that!?” 

“Food is food.” He shrugs his shoulders. 

“I think the cigarettes killed your taste buds, Mamo.” 

“My taste buds are fine,” Kishi starts to shove another piece in his mouth and Tsuneko snatches the meal from his hands, “hey, I was eating that!” 

“The hell you are, I’m not cleaning up puke.” She tosses it in the trash, wiping her hands off on her uniform apron. 

“If anyone here is about to blow chunks, it’s you.” Kishi starts to reach over for the trash, then his hand stop, he can’t reach. 

“The only thing stopping you from eating that out of the trash right now is the fact you’d have to move, isn’t it?”

“Shut up,” he grumbles as Kisaki and Baba start snickering, lighting up a cigarette. 

“So, what did you get us?” The youngest of the three men suddenly asks Tsuneko. 

“Nothing…”

“It’s not fair to only get him a gift, especially since we’re right here.” Kisaki sticks his tongue out, playful and annoying. 

“You wanted bad sushi too?”

 “I mean, I’d cherish any gift you gave me, but that meal was a little much.” Baba grimaces. 

 “Uhh,” she rummages around in her pockets, getting a handful of candies she keeps for kids and throws it at the two of them, “you can have those.” 

Kisaki glares as a butterscotch bounces off his forehead, but Baba catches some candies in his hand and gives her a bright smile. 

“Sweets from my sweetie, I’ll treasure them forever.” 

“I’m gonna be sick again.” 

“Ugh, old men trying to act like kids is just nasty.” 

“You’re so cruel, Ota, I’m not that old.” 

“Oldest man here.” 

“Huh?” Tsuneko tilts her head to the side, there’s no way, she glances over at Kishi, yeah, Baba can’t be older than him.  Kishi’s hair has already gone gray for god’s sake. 

“Baba’s the oldest out of us,” Kisaki tells her, smirking. She gives another aggressive side-eye to Kishi. 

“Yeah, right. I’m not that gullible.” She rolls her eyes; he has to be fucking with her. Kisaki and Baba immediately start cracking up. 

“What’s that suppose to mean?” Kishi grumbles glaring at her. Her phone alarm buzzes to life, giving her ten minutes to go get Anais. 

“Welp, time for me to head out.” 

For the second time of the day, she’s leaving them to laugh as she scurries back to work. It’s odd, the light feeling she has these past two visits, no pit of dread in her stomach. Teasing them and joking around with them isn’t awful. At the very least they haven’t seen quite as mean spirited lately. She shakes her head at the odd thought and finds her way to Anais’s room. 

Her shift passes by quickly with Anais playing her sidekick. When guests stop Tsuneko with questions they coo over the small girl. With every room, the two teach each other more of languages. She hates to admit it, but the Anais is teaching her more than vice versa. But as long as the work is getting done and their time is beneficial for both of them, Tsuneko will consider it a win.  Before she knows it her phone alarm is going off again, time for her to return Anais for evening lessons, dinner, and bedtime. The end of their day together.

Tsuneko leads Anais to the room by the hand, her tutor and parents are already there to answer the door. The little girl excitedly runs to hug her mom, the sight of it brings a smile to Tsuneko's face.

"Mommy, Daddy, look what Tsuneko taught me," Anais babbles excitedly before signing her name in JSL, "I just said my name!"

"What's that now?" Esme asks with an arched brow.

"Japanese sign language, I figured she'd be bored if all she did was watch me clean all day, hope you don't mind," Tsuneko explains.

"Oh, that's wonderful." Esme flashes a brilliant smile and Julien gives a softer one in kind.

"I also wrote down the information for the Puroland event." She hands down the written note to the pair.

"Oh, Thank you so much. For everything."

"It's no problem at all. Have a lovely evening."

They say their goodbyes and Tsuneko excuses herself to return to work. She has to go clean the penthouse again, then maybe she'll drop by Wonderland and have a celebratory tea party with the Hatter after she clocks out.

Everyone is there when she returns to the lounge. Ichinomiya working on a laptop. Oh is reading a book, look like one of the detective novels he seems fond of.  Kishi looking over a newspaper, while Baba and Kisaki are still playing with cards. No one greets her this time, seemingly focused on what they're doing.

Ichinomiya always has the same request when he sees her, so she makes a beeline for the espresso machine. She makes his coffee and remembering the drinks the others have requested before, she decides to make those as well. Plain black tea for Oh, black coffee for Kishi, rose tea for Baba, and coffee with just a bit of sugar and cream for Kisaki. She arranges their drinks on a tray and brings it out.

"Coff-," Ichinomiya starts then pauses when he sees Tsuneko placing his drink down in front of him.

"Aww you're already know my favorite drink, thanks pretty lady."

"I'm just fortunate enough not to have the attention span of a goldfish.” 

There’s still a soft breeze coming in from the open window, cooler now as the evening comes in. The temperature of the room hasn’t dropped significantly, but it’s much cooler and if the window is left open for much longer there will be a definite chill.  And she’s sure Ichinomiya will be bitching about it before she knows it. 

“Can you close the-” Ichinomiya’s words stall at the click of the window being shut. 

“Maybe, she’s finally learning her place,” Oh comments, a cruel little smirk drawing across his face.

“Fuck off,” she grumbles as she starts to clean the mess that’s built up since the last time she was here. 

She cleans up the mess of cigarette butts, trash they’ve tossed aside haphazardly, and general mess. Tsuneko has started dusting when she hears the peanut gallery start whispering, gazes on her, but she can’t make out the words. Her head whips around so fast, she nearly gets whiplash. She doesn’t trust these men as far as she could throw them. 

“What are you doing?” She narrows her eyes at Baba and Kisaki who’re snickering like the bozos they are. All of the men giving shit eating grins. Smug bastards. 

“Bettin’ on if your top’s gonna bust open,” Kishi answers, but he’s no less guilty than the others she’s sure. 

“Well, jokes on you, I got a new uniform, so.” She sticks her tongue out at them. 

“Shameful.” Oh shakes his head, she’s not sure if he means her or the men betting on if they’ll get a peek at her bra. Kisaki and Baba groan, digging yen from their wallets to hand over to Ichinomiya. 

“That’s not even fair, boss.” 

“He probably already knew she got a new uniform.”

“As if I could let an employee walk around like that.” 

“You ordered me a new uniform,” she raises an eyebrow, “I figured Kenzaki was sick of my shit.” 

“It shouldn’t be on other people to make sure you’re dressed for your job,” Oh comments, not bothering to even look at her, she hates that he’s not wrong. 

“I’m gonna go clean the suites,” she murmurs and starts to head out of the room. 

“Wouldn’t you be better off cleaning, boss’s suite first?” Baba asks, the questioning look on his face and the lilt of his voice tells her he’s being genuine and not trying to micromanage. She can see where he’s coming from, Ichinomiya’s room is only accessible through the lounge, since it’s on the highest possible floor. 

“No, Kishi’s is the biggest mess, so I have to clean it first or it’ll never get done.” 

“I bet his room is disgusting.” 

“It is.” 

“Hey, I ain’t that bad!” Kishi blusters to defend himself. 

“Poor grandpa can’t even clean up after himself.” 

“Why is everyone on my ass today?!” 

“It’s national pick on the elderly day, you didn’t know?”  Tsuneko can’t help grinning as she teases. 

“I’m not that old!” 

“Be careful, I don’t think getting upset is good for you at this age,” Baba joins in on the teasing. 

“You’re older than me!” 

“Bullshit.” 

“What do you know, ya damn brat.” 

“I know lying about your age is just plain sad.” 

“Don’t you have something to clean?” 

“I’m going, I’m going.” 

Tsuneko waves him off before heading to the suites. It's odd thinking of how much she's learned about those men in such a short amount of time, given the situation. Cleaning people's rooms tends to do that to a degree, seeing what everyone keeps in their living quarters, how they take care of themselves. Obviously, she doesn't know the finer details of their lives and who they are, she doesn't want to know. But, having any sense of familiarity with the men who bought her...It's odd. It doesn't seem right.

They're ruining her life; she wants to keep a distance. But, inane little details about each of them keep sticking in her mind. It's impossible to avoid, it seems.

How can she not know Kishi's favorite brand of cigarette when she's the one who throws away all the cartons? 

Or that apparently Oh likes detective novels, when she's the one who's tucking away the dog-eared books when he leaves them out in his suite? 

There's tarot cards and astrology books in Baba's room, so she knows he likes that kind of supernatural occult stuff, also from cleaning his closet that his signature red suit is far from his most garish one. 

Kisaki's brassy strawberry blonde hair is thanks to bleach she's seen the boxes of in his bathroom, he could afford a salon, but must prefer doing it on his own. 

Ichinomiya is picky with temperatures, as he is with most things. The thermostats in his bedroom, living room, office, and even limousine are all set to the same exact temperature.

There are so many little things she's learned about them, it's taken her almost a year to learn as much about Sakiko and Chisato, the closest she has to real friends. Yet, he's learned these things about the auction managers in a week. A hazard of the job, she tells herself as she finishes up the last of her work.

She's clocked out and in her casual clothes when she heads down to Wonderland, making good on her promise to see the Hatter again soon.

“Alice!~” He greets her, loud and vibrant as soon as she walks in. She can’t help but notice the stark contrast between the booming voice of the Hatter and the soft murmur he used out of costume. 

“Hey, Mads, want me to make some tea?” 

“Yes, that’d be wonderful!” 

She busies herself in the kitchen area, making his favorite Assam tea with milk. Her thoughts constantly drifting back to last night when she saw him out of costume. 

She resolved to meet him where he’s at. 

She said she wouldn’t get involved. 

But, fuck, she wants to know more. 

“So, about last night-” She starts as she’s pouring him a cup of tea. 

“Alice!” He jolts in his seat and nearly knocks the table over, Tsuneko flusters to avoid spilling tea everywhere, “I’ve forgotten something very important!” 

He’s out of his seat, vivid blue eyes wide and frantic, her heart sinks. It’s his choice, but it’s clear, he’s avoiding the subject. He doesn’t trust her, probably doesn’t have a reason too, especially after her tirade. She shouldn’t pry and she even swore she wouldn’t get involved, but her curiosity, or nosiness, has a way of getting the best of her. 

“You need to try on your costume, Alice!” He grabs her the second she sets the tea pot down and drags her towards his bedroom. 

“Huh?” 

“It won’t be long now before the auction; we have to make sure it fits properly!” 

She’s pulled into his bedroom, all his odd little treasures now returned to where they once were.  Her attention is drawn to the clothes on his bed, a frilly baby blue Lolita style dress with a variety of accessories along with it. 

“Ah…” 

She doesn’t like this… Tsuneko is a twenty-two-year-old grown woman, she can’t pull off that kind of thing. As much as she loves cute things, more extremely adorable stuff is reserved for wearing alone in the privacy of her dorm. She wouldn’t dream of parading around in something like that around other people, no one would ever take her seriously again. 

“It just arrived earlier today, I’m sure it will look wonderful, try it on ~!” 

The door shuts behind him as he gives her some privacy, she sighs, running her fingers over the material. It’s soft and obviously high quality. She toes off her sneakers and socks, it’s not as exposing as the bathrooms in the penthouse suites with the huge windows, but it still feel odd stripping in someone else’s room. 

She runs her fingers along the soft navy fabric of his bed spread. The Hatter, when he’s in costume, there’s always the scent of heavy makeup powder. But the smell is notably absent in his room, it was absent when she saw him out of costume. The scent coming off of his skin more reminiscent of cinnamon cookies, his room has that kind of smell mingled with the must of old artifacts, like one would smell in an antique shop. It suits the collection of random old stuff, but also shows he spends most of his time in this room out of costume. The presence of that soft-spoken boy with dainty features can be felt, even with him being away. 

Tsuneko starts to undo the fastens of her short overalls, stepping out of them. Her oversized tee shirt joins the pile, her nerves alight at being in nothing but her underwear. Every little creak or noise of the room makes her scared the door is about to swing open. She knows the Hatter would never peep on her, but it doesn’t stop her anxiety. 

The pair of white stockings catch her eye first, pure solid white and soft in her hands. She carefully pulls them up, terrifying of catching the delicate fabric and ruining them. They’re tight, but not uncomfortable, as she pulls them up the thick of her thighs and the plush of her ass. There’s a full-length mirror in the Hatter’s room and she sighs at the sight of her black strawberry printed underwear showing through the white fabric. Not that it truly matters, but she dislikes the visual and makes a mental note to wear white ones the day of the auction. 

Tsuneko appreciates the soft baby blue of the dress, the white lace across the collar and at the bottom of the short-puffed sleeves. It takes her a moment to find the opening through the layers of blue and white frills, petticoats giving the costume a full fluffy look. She brings it over her head, it’s on the heavy side with the full skirt. It falls just above her knees and she struggles to pull up the zipper on the back. Not because it doesn’t fit, but because it’s hard to reach. 

Once she thinks it’s done up, she turns to the accessors laid out before her. A white lacey apron that goes over the dress, she ties it securely around her waist. There’s a pair of little wristlets, Baby blue with a bit of white lace, a little silk white ribbon, and tiny twinkling star charms. All that’s left are shoes, black glossy platform Lolita shoes with bows on the toe. And two black ribbons, one longer than the other.  She decides to contend with the shoes, sliding them on and fastening the little buckles. 

She frowns at herself in the mirror, feeling simultaneously like a little girl playing dress up and an old woman trying to look like a little girl. A part of her is humiliated that anyone will see her in this, the other part is mad at herself for not hating the dress. It’s cute. She loves cute, everything she owns is cute. But she doesn’t want to be cute, because the things that come with being cute suck, because the world sucks. 

“Are you finished in there, Alice?” The Hatter’s cheerful voice cuts off her internal rant about being cute. 

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” 

The door swings open and the Hatter strides into the room, eyes stopping on her. He pauses for a moment and her face flushes at the attention. 

“It looks just as beautiful as I thought it would, absolutely gorgeous, but,” he pauses and seems to think for a moment, like he’s picking his words carefully, “it’s missing something.” 

“I wasn’t sure what the ribbons were for,” she admits, pointing to them. 

“Ah.”

He nods in understands and gracefully swoops up the ribbons in his gloved hands, then his steps halt for another moment, his gaze on her back. 

“It’s not fully zipped, Alice,” he says suddenly close to her back, breath tickling her ear, as he zips it up the final inch. Then his hands are in her hair, gloves brushing the nape of her neck as he undoes her ponytail. 

His touch leaves her for a moment, then he’s in front of her again, in her space. He brings one of silky black ribbons around and under the collar of the dress, tying it into a little bow just at the collar. The Hatter takes the other ribbon and moves it to between her hair and the back of her neck, back behind her ears as he ties it at the top of her head. He adjusts and plays with her hair, she focuses her eyes at a spot on the ground, the direct eye contact is too much. Then he’s cupping her cheeks and forcing her to meet his gaze. 

“Absolutely perfect, take a look at yourself.”  His smile is radiant, and she feels her face warm when he drops his hands. 

She takes a look in the mirror. The ribbon in her hair is tied to look almost like bunny ears on top of her head. The way he’s done her hair is cute, the ribbon keeping her sidelocks and everything back out of her face, her bangs left alone.

It’s all adorable and cute. She’s cute and adorable, and no one will ever take her seriously in her life, especially not after seeing her in this. And she hates that but does genuinely love how cute it is. A confusing tug of war to be sure, but if her biggest dilemma of the day is struggling with being cute and easily patronized, she’ll consider it a win. 

“Of course, during the auction you’ll need a mask or face paint, but-“ 

“Here comes the sun, doo doo doo~ Here comes the sun, and I say~” 

The Beatles song buzzes from her clothes on the floor, cutting off the Hatter. Tsuneko freezes, the custom ringtone for her dad. Her earlier thoughts of wanting to see and talk to her dad come to mind. She’s been ignoring his calls for so long and she doesn’t want that anymore. 

“Sorry, I need to answer that, I’ll be right back.” Tsuneko rushes to get her phone from her pocket and scrambles to answer her dad as she leaves Wonderland. The oversized chunky heels nearly send her plummeting a few times as she presses the phone to her ear. 

“Uh, Chipmunk?” Her dad’s loud clear voice, saying that nickname is the cherry on top of what’s been a surprisingly good day. She sits down on the stairs that lead from Wonderland to the rest of the Tres Spades, taking in the moment before she speaks. 

“Hey, dad, sorry about that. I had to get away to talk.” 

“No problem, I’m more surprised you answered. I was startin’ to think you forgot all about little old me.”  

She laughs, her dad’s voice is like pure nostalgia and sunshine. The only thing she wants is to hug him right now. Come clean about everything and just have her dad. But she can’t do that, not yet. She can’t tell him she’s been lying over the phone; her dad deserves better. Not to mention, she still doesn’t know what’s going to happen after this next week. 

“Like I could ever forget you.” 

“I’m still not use to you talking like you’re from Tokyo,” he teases the change she makes in her dialect, using different Japanese pronouns. 

“Sorry, I’ll cut the shit,” she grins as she switches, the Kyushu dialect much more comfortable on her tongue. 

“How has everything been, you must have been real busy the past year or so, couldn’t even spare a conversation for your dad.” 

“Ah, I’m sorry, I just had classes and, uh, I got a new internship.” This is why she’s been avoiding taking his calls, lying to him is so much harder when she has to say the words and hear his voice. She hates being dishonest as a whole, but she can lie to anyone else in the world without batting an eyelash. Her dad is an entirely different story, every lie makes her heart constrict. 

“It’s fine, I swear, you’ve apologized more in the last five minutes than you did your entire childhood.” 

“I just feel bad, okay. I know I’ve been MIA on you, but I promise I’m okay. I’m still working hard, still love my dumbass dad.” 

“I wouldn’t expect anything less of my chipmunk, I’ve been thinking of sending you another care package, help keep your energy up.” 

“Actually, if that’s the case, my address has changed,” the idea of a care package from her dad sounds so nice right now, “my internship is actually with the legal department of the Tres Spades, y’know that giant hotel, so I’m staying at their employee dorms right now to save money.” 

That sounds kind of believable, she thinks. She hopes. 

“Ah, that’s sound wonderful, if you can get a job there, you’d be set for life, wouldn’t you?” 

“Yeah, it’s a really great place to work.” 

“Do you know when you’ll be graduating yet? I wanna make sure I don’t miss it.” 

“Uh,” she stutters, “I’m not quite sure yet, but it’s still a while off, so don’t stress.” 

“You’re not keeping me away, so I don’t embarrass you, are ya?” 

Her heart sinks, that he could even think that. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it, you’re the least embarrassing thing in my life, I promise.” 

“Ah, shit, look at the time. I gotta get some sleep, and I’m sure you have work to do. I’ll get out of your hair for now. Love you, be safe.” 

“I’ll try, love you, bye.” 

She lets out a soft sigh as she hands up. It’s just past midnight. The first week of the bet is officially over, one more week. She can do this. If she can get a few more days like this, she knows she can charge through it all.  Tsuneko lays back out against the stairs, feeling them dig uncomfortably into her back. The hum of the ballroom floor overhead is dulled but drifting down the staircase, below her the Hatter and Wonderland are waiting for her. She spends a moment in the in-between, appreciating the peace she finds there. 

[homenum-revelio-hq]

Welcome (again) to the Order of the Phoenix, Seb!

You have been accepted for the role of non-biography character NDULUE “LU” TRAVERS with the faceclaim of Keiynan Lonsdale! We really enjoyed reading your application and especially loved such a creative way to tie Lu to canon. During these dark times, it only makes sense that muggleborns and other ‘”lower” blood-statuses might hide their background to protect themselves! We also enjoyed your in-depth analysis for Lu’s biases and prejudices! 

Please take a look at the new member checklist and send in your account within 24 hours! Thank you for joining the fight against Voldemort!

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME: Seb

AGE:  21+ (I’ve turned yet another year older the other day though, can you believe how ordinary I am? Not even aging backwards, like some sort of amateur… )

TIMEZONE: GMT+1

ACTIVITY LEVEL: I’m still on holiday until mid april and after that I’ll be travelling to uni daily by train so… If anything I’m too active. Will there ever be a time when the poor admins don’t have to suffer through pages and pages of my replies?

ANYTHING ELSE: Love you <3

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Ndulue “Lu” Travers

AGE: 26

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: Genderqueer. They/Them. Queer.

Lu does not use the term ‘genderqueer’ themselves. They just know – and have always known – that their body does not fit how they feel inside. They know it’s a good body, and they don’t hate it, in fact, they quite enjoy using it for certain physical activities at times, but they just don’t think it belongs to them more than a handbag does.

They’ve tried living as a traditionally female-presenting woman for a while but it seemed just as wrong. So they’ve decided, especially in the face of war, that there’s bigger things to worry about and to just wear and act and love however they feel like it that day. If modern terminology and information were accessible to them, they’d choose ‘genderqueer’ for themselves and so I’m going with the most widely used ‘they/them’ pronouns as well. I can imagine Lu’s skin crawls when people address them with ‘Mister’ or speak of them with ‘he/him’ pronouns, even if they can’t fully put it into words why, but when it comes to playing into the ideas some people have of them, they’re good at sucking it up.

BLOOD STATUS: Muggleborn

HOUSE ALUMNI: Not applicable

ANY CHANGES:  X.

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

PERSONALITY:

[Lu’s soul is split into two. Their parents divorced, leaving them and their brother commuting between different counties, educations and opposing moral values. They are of magical blood, no one else in their family is, has been, or will ever be. Their taste is accustomed to luxury and fame, but they themselves have no Knut to their name. To which world do they belong? Who are they really?]

Their personality is best described as vibrant and fun-loving on the one hand and selfish and sly on the other.

Meeting them for the first time, you’ll be confronted with a lot of sass, a lot of cheek, a lot of jokes and shallow remarks. They’re painfully honest about what they think of others – or at least their appearances. There’s something hyper-sensual, hyper-sexual to them even, as though their whole world turns around how to get who to bed. In a way, that’s very much the truth. After all, the person they’ve become can only exist as long as they keep being wanted that way. If they like you, they’ll shower you in gifts and wild adventures, they’ll make you get out of bed at one in the morning for a trip to an underground party where everyone is dressed up in Rococo fashion, and if you don’t want to, they’ll shame you for not living your best life. “These are the golden years of our lives, let’s spray-paint us in glitter to match!”

On the other hand they do have a dark past and a deep-rooted melancholy they can not always shake. Sometimes they use this to get pity-points. You see, even though they didn’t go to Hogwarts but to Beauxbaton, they are the epitome of a Slytherin. They’ll do most anything to protect their kin, foul play never out of the question. Lies are their best friend, and they’re damn good at it. In fact, they don’t just take pride in it but also joy. Imagine Regina George complimenting your bracelet only to turn around a second later and comment to her friend just how ugly it really is. That’s Lu. They found happiness in everything material; fashion, housing, parties, carriages is their life. Flowers are beneath them as they die too quickly. Diamonds are a girl’s best friend is their motto. And if you get on their bad side, you will suffer. You don’t know the bad luck that ensues is coming from Lu, but you will experience it intensely. There’s also an intense need to be appreciated, to be everyone’s number one and win first place in any competition – even those where no one else is aware that it’s a competition.

They can play incredibly sweet. Feed you honey as long as they get what they want, help you succeed, and rid you of all your adversaries. But if they feel insulted or neglected, the venom in their bite shows quickly.

So if it comes to what they’re good at, what they struggle with, it’s two sides of the same coin: being honest. Yes, they’ll use their actual hurt to get attention and some extra loving, but when it comes to facing how it actually makes them feel, how it influences their actions, they’ll put up a fight – or distract. They’re a master of conning, even before they met Mundungus Fletcher who helped them to their current life. They bamboozle and bedazzle their audience – and break when the truth beneath the facade is found out. The world’s a stage, they’re the lead role. But if you catch them behind the scenes, or reduce them to being the audience, a feisty tongue will jab and jab and jab until words turn to actions, indeed quite similar to theatre kids not being cast in the role they want.

What this hurt is, that I mentioned? See the next section.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY:

Lu’s theme – a soul divided into two – has its roots, as for so many, in their past and background.

Muggle Belgium is a country split between a French part and a Dutch part, and most people there are raised bilingual. Lu, with their Nigerian mother, was raised with yet a third language, a third culture to appreciate and respect, a third reason why fitting in was nearly impossible.

Initially, it was a happy childhood, with a baby brother Lu was devoted to, and parents who, despite their differences, managed to show their love to their children. But soon the differences grew too broad, and it didn’t help that each fight they had when they believed their children to be asleep was followed by furniture mysteriously bursting, disappearing, or changing colour. Accusations were thrown, insults were hissed, and soon Lu’s father moved up to Antwerpen, far away from the French language, far away from his family, far away from the open-hearted person he used to be.

He became xenophobic, as though blaming every immigrant to be the cause for his unhappy life. Even his own children, now coming to visit him every second week, weren’t safe from his drunk, racist slurs. But staying with their mother wasn’t an option either, as she soon married again, had two new children, blacker than Lu and their brother Urhie, happier, more normal. To the new husband’s sight, Lu and Urhie were a thorn, a mistake his wife had committed and simply couldn’t make undo, a chore. So every second week, Urhie would take their little brother by the hand, go on a train, and travel yet again across the country. It wasn’t perfect. Neither home felt right, and because of the going back and forth, it was nearly impossible to make proper friends at their two schools. And when they did, and the other kids found out that the Travers were children of divorce, they’d be bullied for it. Leaving one county was always filled with anxiety, wondering what would await them on the other side of this train ride. But at least they had each other.

Urhie was a happy boy. He barely remembered his parents fighting, and while the travelling and bullying, later the lack of parental love as well, took a toll on him, he at least had an older sibling who protected him. There was nothing Lu wouldn’t have done for Urhie. They taught him all the best curse words, helped them with the homeworks, built the best blanket forts and painted the greatest tigers onto their face, read them all the Comic books and stole just so much candy for them. They also took their father’s beatings, and got all the chores for their mother done so that their presence would be at least tolerated. At school, they’d meet each other in the courtyard, and Lu made sure that Urhie never felt lonely. Never felt like all of this was his fault. After all, somehow, Lu always knew that it had been their fault, and their fault alone. All the mysterious little things that had happened, the incidents which their parents used to accuse each other of and which led to the awful arguments – that had been all Lu, hadn’t it?

The famous Beauxbaton Flower Petals proved them right. They flew in through the window, even though Lu had been so sure to close it, and that was the end of their childhood. Everything about Beauxbaton was brilliant. The uniforms, the people, the teachers, the building, and of course the magic. Everything felt like a dream. A beautiful, rare, fantastical dream that had to be true simply because Lu knew their brain could’ve never come up with something like this on its own. Was it hard to believe that they were a Wix? No. Was it hard to tell their parents about it? Oh, yes.

Their father responded with a slap to the face. “Stop with your jokes.” The Beauxbaton Secretary, who came a few days later, performed a few spells and while Lu’s eyes grew wide with wonder, their father’s grew darker and darker. Perhaps it was anger, that his child was even stranger and more different than he had expected. Perhaps it was a form of jealousy. Their mother – forbidden to say anything to her husband – cried and cried until all her tears were out and then cried some more, with a dry face now. No one quite understood why but when she finally stopped after five long days, she also stopped acknowledging Lu’s presence. They had died for her, and in the rare cases she needed something of them, a chore done, she’d speak of them in the third person, detached, as though they were just not in the room, but not even in this realm.

But none of this was bad. Not compared to how it affected Urhie. At first there was eagerness: “So you think I’ll go to Beauxbaton, too, when I’m older?!” But no matter how much they tried to make things change colour, nothing ever happened. And when Lu was about to start their fifth year at Beauxbaton, and no Flower Petals came for Urhie, their relationship changed. Brusquely and irreversibly. Urhie grew quiet, visibly hurt, at first internalising, later placing all the disappointment in his broken life on their sibling. When they were with their mother, they now played with their half-siblings, or did the chores before Lu could do them, wordlessly. When they were with their father, they hid in their room and blasted music, letting Lu face the violence alone, but instead of kissing the wounds afterwards, he now didn’t even acknowledge them.

And the more Lu tried to escape the tension – staying at Beauxbaton over the holidays, ward themselves with spells at night, or spend more time in the Wizarding City of Antwerpen and Liège – the more Urhie resented them. It was a betrayal. Lu was able to live in a world where there was magic, where there was happiness, and he wasn’t. The traitor was Lu. And so they paid for it.

By their seventeenth birthday and their graduation from Beauxbaton, they had no home anymore.

OCCUPATION: Escort

Dancing the Devil’s Tango, you know? Playing the flute, you could say. Knowing how to truly enjoy eating a banana, is another way to phrase it. Practicing throat massages, loving the nightly work out and specific stretching positions, giving people excuses to wash their bed sheets more often. You get the idea, I’m done. No, wait, one more: Horse back riding but without the horse.

ROLE WITHIN THE ORDER/THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ORDER:

Lu thinks they’re losing. They’re not powerful enough, not strong enough, not smart enough to do anything against the upper class society that has always ruled over this country and will always rule over this country. No, they don’t think they’re bad people or acting against the law, but it all seems so futile. Such great efforts for what? Perhaps a few years of peace before the next racist radical group arises? Adapting is the key, not fighting, no revolution has ever gone anywhere productive, and because the Order isn’t even trying to adapt and make use of those inside of it with privilege, Lu is both condescending towards them, as well as mildly bemused by them.

They affiliated themselves nevertheless because they want to be protected.

First, if their secret ever came out, that they’re really a Mudblood, then the Order might be there for Lu until they can get out of the country. Possibly even help them back to Belgium. Secondly, if the Order does win the war, they don’t want to be known as a Death Eater.

They’re not a Death Eater and certainly don’t have the Dark Mark, but you’d be surprised how deep into their dinner-party affairs you can sneak when you’re only considered the hors d’oeuvre. Nevertheless, Lu’s somewhat affiliated. So if the Order wins the war and their affiliation is revealed, it would be best to be in the Order to say, oh no, I was just working as a double agent, I’m not actually a bad person.

So that was why they began helping the Order out, a few months after coming to England. Nothing big, only some very personal information or clear descriptions of locations that could be useful for Order missions. The reason the Order had such a detailed description of the Nott house in December, was because Lu had taken the freedom to ‘get lost on their way to the bathroom’ and have a snoop around. It was their first ‘trial’ to help the Order with something.

For three months now they’d been helping the Order, solely for their own protection. Until. Well. Until this New Years, when the Death Eaters decided to go against Muggles.

Their war against Mudbloods, Lu had always been able to understand, to accept. Muggleborns couldn’t properly fit into the Wizarding World, not without completely getting rid of their Muggle side. And who would want to do that? To split one’s soul for two completely different styles of life… That simply wasn’t healthy.

But Muggles? Those innocent, stupid bastards? What have they done? Who will protect them? Who will protect Urhie? Lu doesn’t let themself think that name, but that’s the source of their fears, isn’t it?

SURVIVAL:

Lu came to England as an extended family member of the Travers family. Their real name is, in fact, Travers, but that’s pure coincidence, and there’s no relation to the famous British pureblood family at all. It was only with Mundungus Fletcher’s information and a bit of conning that Lu made themself pass as a member of the Sacred 28. Well, that, and long eyelashes batting with promise of the kind of night you don’t dare speaking to your wife about.

At first it seemed risky to burst into the Upper Pureblood Society without a proper patron, but soon enough Lu realised that while the British liked to present themselves as quiet and respectable, they were no less naughty than the French. Living in a small country Manor, part of the Travers heritage, there’s rarely ever a day – or rather night – that passes without visit. And because none of those patrons are the kind of people to speak about their private affairs, Lu lives more easily than ever before.

It would probably be very easy to just stay out of the war, play innocent in case the Phoenix side wins. But what if all purebloods get persecuted at the end of the war? So it’s safer to play on both sides. And if the Death Eaters catch Lu meddling with the Order, they can simply say it’s a matter of double-agenting as well. Only properly joining the Order could be a proper risk, and until very recently Lu had absolutely no desire to do that. For what? To get sent into a mission and die? You wish!

But, well, now New Years has happened and sitting still in their country Manor is not as easy anymore, is it? So while everyone is seeking out safety, Lu is, for the first time, leaving their comfortable den, to get themself into trouble. Stupid? Perhaps. Well. Yes, actually. Most definitely very stupid. But… There’s this feeling. This knowledge that danger lies ahead, but that taking a beating or two is all worth it, if at least it will protect Urhie…

RELATIONSHIPS:

In general, Lu is careful not to make close friends.

Oh, their official list of friends is as long as the guest list for a Gatsby Party, sure, but the people that actually know Lu are … non-existent. In the past, whenever there was someone who came too close to Lu, learnt too much and made it hard for them to continue playing the role of luxurious party host and resident play-toy, they’d jump ship. Go to a new country. Find new friends.

At the moment they’re physically very close with a handful of Death Eaters, but none of them ask Lu for private information, only see them as a fun pass-time, and Lu lives for it. There is safety in not being known. Safety in being loved for all the wrong reasons, never hated for all the right reasons.

When it comes to the people of the Order – most of which Lu has yet to meet – they’re rather indifferent to them. Do they have money? Flair? A sense of humour and an ability to hold their liquor? Let’s be friends! Are they bland and all about the war? All right. Let’s focus on the war. They have no interest in being close to any of those people but that doesn’t mean they’re rude to them. They affiliated themselves with the Order for protection, and they are trying to join now to help the Muggles. Much like you treat your local grocery shop lady, Lu is friendly to them, not really trying to play serious or their glamour-card, just interacting in a professional manner. But again, if there are people in the Order who they think could pay for their bling, they will not draw the line just because they’re in the Order. They see the Order the same way they see the Death Eaters: they don’t care much about their ideologies but sees them as individual people.

Suggestions, as discussed with the players:

Peter Pettigrew/Severus Snape: Both of them are Death Eaters, both of them know the faces that hide behind the masks, both of them are wildly aware what that person, who is helping the Order get to personal information about Death Eaters, is properly doing to get to that information. They know Lu’s not a Death Eater, but they also know they’re not fully on the Order’s side. Interestingly enough, they’re the only people Lu’s wary off – on Death Eater side. The Inner Circle of the Order knows that they must be somewhat close to the Death Eaters, but the Death Eaters can under no circumstances learn that Lu’s flirting with the Order. Luckily, both Peter and Severus are also aware of the power that Lu holds against them, so there’s a mutual tension and black-mailing potential going on.

Mundungus Fletcher: Mundungus is the reason why Lu made it to Britain. The two of them met at a bar in Paris, where Mundungus was currently being caught red-handed in a con-gone-awry. Lu helped him and then “I owe you.” “Great. I actually got something I need help with right now.” At first Mundungus seemed irritated that a Muggleborn wants to play Pureblood, but he showed up the next day at Lu’s place anyway, ready to help them con the British Pureblood Society. Their relationship is riddled with quarrels, jabs and insults, but somehow they can’t quite go longer than a week without going out on a drink together again.

Lily Evans: Is reason for great conflict to Lu. On the one hand, she’s a stupid Muggleborn who isn’t even trying to conceal her identity. On the other hand, she’s clearly a talented Witch. Best of her year, they say? So maybe all those prejudices against Muggleborns isn’t actually true? So while at the moment Lu is still facing her with an air of hostility and sceptical arrogance, they do want to know how she’s doing it; finding all this bravery. It might do them well to learn of another Muggleborn’s past. Either because it’ll teach them that not all Muggles are bad, or because it’ll reinforce this idea that Muggles are in fact not suited to know about magic, that the Statue of Secrecy must be kept at all cost.

OOC EXPLORATION:

SHIPS/ANTI-SHIPS: Lu x Dumbledore only, please. Only supreme Sugar Daddies acceptable for my Lu.

No, but seriously, I’d like for Lu to actually get attached for once. You’ll see, they’re very vain and shallow, but beneath all that there’s a genuinely sweet person who wants to be protected as much as they want to protect. So whether that be someone older who fits their usual prey – homewrecking is their speciality! –, or someone younger who they wouldn’t even consider as a romantic partner, I’m very open to it all.

WHAT PRIVILEGES AND BIASES DOES YOUR CHARACTER HAVE?

I think it is safe to say that now that Lu has adopted the Sacred 28 name Travers as their own, they have all the privileges one can only image. They live in a big house with maids and footmen, and while they don’t actually live off the heritage of a long-lost aunt fifth removed like they’ve told the Purebloods they hang out with now, they do have their means to get by. Gain enough money to spend it on all sorts of fun activities.

And because they’ve stopped entering the Muggle world about five years ago, they’re also facing barely any prejudices concerning their skin colour – or extravagant clothes. The former seeming to be a prejudice indeed mostly fostered by a people that took too long to begin travelling the world, the latter a prejudice for a people that has never had a sense of fashion to begin with. The traditional Wizarding costumes are colourful and grand by nature, dramatic in all the right ways, and Lu savours it.

Coming to their own biases and prejudices.

Against Muggles: Stupid, hostile, irrelevant, prejudiced to a painful degree. As the above written paragraph makes it obvious, Lu doesn’t think kindly of their own once-upon-a-time kin – surely because of the way they were treated by them.

Against Muggleborns: Actually, deep down, knowing themselves quite the skilled Magician, they don’t really believe that Muggleblood washes out your powers. However, they do think that every Muggleborn who is still staying in Britain at the moment, without even trying to conceal their identity, is the epitome of stupid.

Against Halfbloods: Barely of any relevance to Lu, but if you’d dug deeper you’d find that they might think any Wizard stupid who thought to marry a Muggle. Can’t be that grand of a family, if there’s traces of dementedness in their blood, right? But mostly they don’t care.

Against Purebloods: In Lu’s opinion, every Pureblood is inherently more powerful than Muggleborns or Halfbloods. I know, I said they know themselves to be incredibly skilled, but those contradictions exist within themselves the same way everything else splits them into two sides. They’ve spent so much time around Purebloods that they can no longer separate the truth from lies, and their beliefs have seeped into their own skin, with a tendency to make them believe they might actually be less skilled at magic as they once thought they were. It’s one of the reasons why they barely ever use magic around Purebloods – simply not to accidentally prove themselves as weak-blooded. They also think all Purebloods are rich.

Against Halfbreeds: Between the horrid prejudices spread by the Pureblood Circles they hang out in, and their own Muggle background, halfbreeds are inherently unhuman to them. In fairy tales, you didn’t see magical creatures be given human emotions. The goblins were greedy, the sirens were sexual predators, the wolves were to devour you. Surely it’s the same in the real world. The house elves love serving, the veelas love dancing on pianos at cocktail parties, and the werewolves want nothing but to kill humans. No matter how much human blood they got in their veins, at the end they’re their fairytale trait… The same way you can’t just shake your Muggleblood, right?

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO?

More lovely time with lovely people.

I’m going for Lu because they’re primarily a fun person, their sadness is so deep in that it will be fun to navigate them through a war, maybe bring some ease to the dash!

PLOT DROP IDEAS:

Lu is currently not in the Order. I’d like for them to make it in, because at the moment that’s their goal. They went from ‘affiliated for personal protection’ to ‘I might actually want to do something good in this war’, which is a pretty big step. The reason for this (wanting to protect their brother) is not something they’ve yet admitted to, and I think if the Order questioned them on why they want to join, it might come to the light of day, and I’d like to see them face their prejudices against Muggles.

I could also imagine a plot, much much further down the line, of them being found out a Muggleborn. Literally being kicked out of the Travers house, and losing all their patrons, etc, etc, and being about to leave Britain to run home before stopping and maybe deciding to properly serve the Order now.

But before that, the revelation of HOW it comes that they’ve got such easy access to Death Eater’s personal information. Because while Snape has ‘what’s going on’ information, Lu’s got the ‘who’s sleeping in which room, and how many house elves are employed in a household’ kind of information. It would be interesting to see someone questioning how Lu can know all this and then therefore learning what exactly they’re doing to be this close to Death Eaters. I don’t think they’re trying to hide that they’re an – in pg13 words – Escort, but I can imagine that flaunting love affairs with Death Eaters could pose some problems if they want to be trusted by the Order.

ANYTHING ELSE? Yes! Their Order status at the moment is Affiliated.

EXTRA FOR NON-BIO CHARACTERS:

PAST:

Once there was nothing more important to Lu than their little brother, Urhie. So when the magical Flower Petals came and invited Lu – and only Lu – to join Beauxbaton, something inside of them broke apart, was left behind, died. Their parents had divorced and for months they had spent commuting back and forth between the two households with Urhie by the hand, protecting them from the bribing, the exhaustion, and the inevitable feeling that they weren’t quite as loved as they should be. And now Urhie was supposed to just do all of this alone? Beauxbaton was splendid, magic was splendid, the life the French Wizarding World offered was splendid – but was it all worth it if they had to do it without Urhie? Unfortunately, going home was soon no longer an option. Their mother had a new family and the man didn’t like her children from the first marriage, and their father had slipped into right-winged circles, throwing slurs at the children the moment alcohol touched his lips. For Lu it was easy, they could stay at Beauxbaton over the holidays, ward themselves with spells or spend more time in Wizarding Liège – but Urhie? Tension between the brothers grew. And then Lu met Ferrari. A Wizard from the Russian high society who drove a very luxurious horse carriage (which earned him the name even if no one but Lu understood), and his offer was simple: Join me. Join me, let me bathe you in riches, let me take you on golden adventures, let me introduce to you the most glistening personalities of the Wizarding World. Join me, and all you have to do from now on is look pretty and kneel before me. Lu accepted – and Urhie never forgave them.

PRESENT:

Lu Travers, Pureblood Wix Extraordinaire. That’s how they’re known now. They had quickly become a brilliant gem of the Pureblood Wizarding world, a name people – that is, those with gold piles to their dragon – around the globe knew and invited to their parties hungrily. For years Lu travelled the world, first with Ferrari, then with whoever seemed willing to give them more. And more and more. They were never satisfied. Had the world previously been a crowded train ride between Antwerpen and Liège, it soon turned into the most brilliant and colourful oyster for them to slurp up. Paris, New York, Tokyo, Sydney, Capetown, wherever there were Wix of a pure blood and a decadent culture, Lu went there, lying about where they really came from and soon fitting in more smoothly than most actual Purebloods. Only one world remained closed to them: The Sacred 28 of Great Britain. It was Mundungus Fletcher who reminded Lu that they happened to share a name with one of those Pureblood families, and before they knew it, they were smuggled into London, now on their knees before the most infamous Wizards in history. Lu adores it here. Everything is just the right amount of traditional and elegant, and even though the Sacred 28 are quite careful with keeping the true nature of their relation to Lu a secret, none of them are shy to approach them. They’ve never lived any better. The only problem is this bloody war and the fact that it is, in fact, waging against Lu and their kin. If their secret comes out, it’ll be the end of them. And worse. What if the other side wins? Isn’t there this Phoenix Order? Perhaps it would be best to join them, so that if they win, Lu can say they’ve just played double agent with the Death Eaters? Not that the Order seems to be winning. And Lu doesn’t care – if only his employers hadn’t suddenly decided to kill Muggles…

FC CHOICES: Keiynan Lonsdale (they/them), Chance Pomodoro (he/him), Jordan Fisher (he/him)

reason:

https://youtu.be/8NS22iANsnQ?t=100

“oh damn” – scene change

and the following 40 seconds of that video.

[lutraverselemonde]

bio

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Ndulue “Lu” Travers

AGE: 26

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: Genderqueer. They/Them. Queer.

Lu does not use the term ‘genderqueer’ themselves. They just know – and have always known – that their body does not fit how they feel inside. They know it’s a good body, and they don’t hate it, in fact, they quite enjoy using it for certain physical activities at times, but they just don’t think it belongs to them more than a handbag does.

They’ve tried living as a traditionally female-presenting woman for a while but it seemed just as wrong. So they’ve decided, especially in the face of war, that there’s bigger things to worry about and to just wear and act and love however they feel like it that day. If modern terminology and information were accessible to them, they’d choose ‘genderqueer’ for themselves and so I’m going with the most widely used ‘they/them’ pronouns as well. I can imagine Lu’s skin crawls when people address them with ‘Mister’ or speak of them with ‘he/him’ pronouns, even if they can’t fully put it into words why, but when it comes to playing into the ideas some people have of them, they’re good at sucking it up.

BLOOD STATUS: Muggleborn

HOUSE ALUMNI: Not applicable

ANY CHANGES:  X.

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

PERSONALITY:

[Lu’s soul is split into two. Their parents divorced, leaving them and their brother commuting between different counties, educations and opposing moral values. They are of magical blood, no one else in their family is, has been, or will ever be. Their taste is accustomed to luxury and fame, but they themselves have no Knut to their name. To which world do they belong? Who are they really?]

Their personality is best described as vibrant and fun-loving on the one hand and selfish and sly on the other.

Meeting them for the first time, you’ll be confronted with a lot of sass, a lot of cheek, a lot of jokes and shallow remarks. They’re painfully honest about what they think of others – or at least their appearances. There’s something hyper-sensual, hyper-sexual to them even, as though their whole world turns around how to get who to bed. In a way, that’s very much the truth. After all, the person they’ve become can only exist as long as they keep being wanted that way. If they like you, they’ll shower you in gifts and wild adventures, they’ll make you get out of bed at one in the morning for a trip to an underground party where everyone is dressed up in Rococo fashion, and if you don’t want to, they’ll shame you for not living your best life. “These are the golden years of our lives, let’s spray-paint us in glitter to match!”

On the other hand they do have a dark past and a deep-rooted melancholy they can not always shake. Sometimes they use this to get pity-points. You see, even though they didn’t go to Hogwarts but to Beauxbaton, they are the epitome of a Slytherin. They’ll do most anything to protect their kin, foul play never out of the question. Lies are their best friend, and they’re damn good at it. In fact, they don’t just take pride in it but also joy. Imagine Regina George complimenting your bracelet only to turn around a second later and comment to her friend just how ugly it really is. That’s Lu. They found happiness in everything material; fashion, housing, parties, carriages is their life. Flowers are beneath them as they die too quickly. Diamonds are a girl’s best friend is their motto. And if you get on their bad side, you will suffer. You don’t know the bad luck that ensues is coming from Lu, but you will experience it intensely. There’s also an intense need to be appreciated, to be everyone’s number one and win first place in any competition – even those where no one else is aware that it’s a competition.

They can play incredibly sweet. Feed you honey as long as they get what they want, help you succeed, and rid you of all your adversaries. But if they feel insulted or neglected, the venom in their bite shows quickly.

So if it comes to what they’re good at, what they struggle with, it’s two sides of the same coin: being honest. Yes, they’ll use their actual hurt to get attention and some extra loving, but when it comes to facing how it actually makes them feel, how it influences their actions, they’ll put up a fight – or distract. They’re a master of conning, even before they met Mundungus Fletcher who helped them to their current life. They bamboozle and bedazzle their audience – and break when the truth beneath the facade is found out. The world’s a stage, they’re the lead role. But if you catch them behind the scenes, or reduce them to being the audience, a feisty tongue will jab and jab and jab until words turn to actions, indeed quite similar to theatre kids not being cast in the role they want.

What this hurt is, that I mentioned? See the next section.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY:

Lu’s theme – a soul divided into two – has its roots, as for so many, in their past and background.

Muggle Belgium is a country split between a French part and a Dutch part, and most people there are raised bilingual. Lu, with their Nigerian mother, was raised with yet a third language, a third culture to appreciate and respect, a third reason why fitting in was nearly impossible.

Initially, it was a happy childhood, with a baby brother Lu was devoted to, and parents who, despite their differences, managed to show their love to their children. But soon the differences grew too broad, and it didn’t help that each fight they had when they believed their children to be asleep was followed by furniture mysteriously bursting, disappearing, or changing colour. Accusations were thrown, insults were hissed, and soon Lu’s father moved up to Antwerpen, far away from the French language, far away from his family, far away from the open-hearted person he used to be.

He became xenophobic, as though blaming every immigrant to be the cause for his unhappy life. Even his own children, now coming to visit him every second week, weren’t safe from his drunk, racist slurs. But staying with their mother wasn’t an option either, as she soon married again, had two new children, blacker than Lu and their brother Urhie, happier, more normal. To the new husband’s sight, Lu and Urhie were a thorn, a mistake his wife had committed and simply couldn’t make undo, a chore. So every second week, Urhie would take their little brother by the hand, go on a train, and travel yet again across the country. It wasn’t perfect. Neither home felt right, and because of the going back and forth, it was nearly impossible to make proper friends at their two schools. And when they did, and the other kids found out that the Travers were children of divorce, they’d be bullied for it. Leaving one county was always filled with anxiety, wondering what would await them on the other side of this train ride. But at least they had each other.

Urhie was a happy boy. He barely remembered his parents fighting, and while the travelling and bullying, later the lack of parental love as well, took a toll on him, he at least had an older sibling who protected him. There was nothing Lu wouldn’t have done for Urhie. They taught him all the best curse words, helped them with the homeworks, built the best blanket forts and painted the greatest tigers onto their face, read them all the Comic books and stole just so much candy for them. They also took their father’s beatings, and got all the chores for their mother done so that their presence would be at least tolerated. At school, they’d meet each other in the courtyard, and Lu made sure that Urhie never felt lonely. Never felt like all of this was his fault. After all, somehow, Lu always knew that it had been their fault, and their fault alone. All the mysterious little things that had happened, the incidents which their parents used to accuse each other of and which led to the awful arguments – that had been all Lu, hadn’t it?

The famous Beauxbaton Flower Petals proved them right. They flew in through the window, even though Lu had been so sure to close it, and that was the end of their childhood. Everything about Beauxbaton was brilliant. The uniforms, the people, the teachers, the building, and of course the magic. Everything felt like a dream. A beautiful, rare, fantastical dream that had to be true simply because Lu knew their brain could’ve never come up with something like this on its own. Was it hard to believe that they were a Wix? No. Was it hard to tell their parents about it? Oh, yes.

Their father responded with a slap to the face. “Stop with your jokes.” The Beauxbaton Secretary, who came a few days later, performed a few spells and while Lu’s eyes grew wide with wonder, their father’s grew darker and darker. Perhaps it was anger, that his child was even stranger and more different than he had expected. Perhaps it was a form of jealousy. Their mother – forbidden to say anything to her husband – cried and cried until all her tears were out and then cried some more, with a dry face now. No one quite understood why but when she finally stopped after five long days, she also stopped acknowledging Lu’s presence. They had died for her, and in the rare cases she needed something of them, a chore done, she’d speak of them in the third person, detached, as though they were just not in the room, but not even in this realm.

But none of this was bad. Not compared to how it affected Urhie. At first there was eagerness: “So you think I’ll go to Beauxbaton, too, when I’m older?!” But no matter how much they tried to make things change colour, nothing ever happened. And when Lu was about to start their fifth year at Beauxbaton, and no Flower Petals came for Urhie, their relationship changed. Brusquely and irreversibly. Urhie grew quiet, visibly hurt, at first internalising, later placing all the disappointment in his broken life on their sibling. When they were with their mother, they now played with their half-siblings, or did the chores before Lu could do them, wordlessly. When they were with their father, Urhie hid in his room and blasted music, letting Lu face the violence alone, but instead of kissing the wounds afterwards, he now didn’t even acknowledge them.

And the more Lu tried to escape the tension – staying at Beauxbaton over the holidays, ward themselves with spells at night, or spend more time in the Wizarding City of Antwerpen and Liège – the more Urhie resented them. It was a betrayal. Lu was able to live in a world where there was magic, where there was happiness, and he wasn’t. The traitor was Lu. And so they paid for it.

By their seventeenth birthday and their graduation from Beauxbaton, they had no home anymore.

OCCUPATION: Escort

Dancing the Devil’s Tango, you know? Playing the flute, you could say. Knowing how to truly enjoy eating a banana, is another way to phrase it. Practicing throat massages, loving the nightly work out and specific stretching positions, giving people excuses to wash their bed sheets more often. You get the idea, I’m done. No, wait, one more: Horse back riding but without the horse.

ROLE WITHIN THE ORDER/THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ORDER:

Lu thinks they’re losing. They’re not powerful enough, not strong enough, not smart enough to do anything against the upper class society that has always ruled over this country and will always rule over this country. No, they don’t think they’re bad people or acting against the law, but it all seems so futile. Such great efforts for what? Perhaps a few years of peace before the next racist radical group arises? Adapting is the key, not fighting, no revolution has ever gone anywhere productive, and because the Order isn’t even trying to adapt and make use of those inside of it with privilege, Lu is both condescending towards them, as well as mildly bemused by them.

They affiliated themselves nevertheless because they want to be protected.

First, if their secret ever came out, that they’re really a Mudblood, then the Order might be there for Lu until they can get out of the country. Possibly even help them back to Belgium. Secondly, if the Order does win the war, they don’t want to be known as a Death Eater.

They’re not a Death Eater and certainly don’t have the Dark Mark, but you’d be surprised how deep into their dinner-party affairs you can sneak when you’re only considered the hors d’oeuvre. Nevertheless, Lu’s somewhat affiliated. So if the Order wins the war and their affiliation is revealed, it would be best to be in the Order to say, oh no, I was just working as a double agent, I’m not actually a bad person.

So that was why they began helping the Order out, a few months after coming to England. Nothing big, only some very personal information or clear descriptions of locations that could be useful for Order missions. The reason the Order had such a detailed description of the Nott house in December, was because Lu had taken the freedom to ‘get lost on their way to the bathroom’ and have a snoop around. It was their first ‘trial’ to help the Order with something.

For three months now they’d been helping the Order, solely for their own protection. Until. Well. Until this New Years, when the Death Eaters decided to go against Muggles.

Their war against Mudbloods, Lu had always been able to understand, to accept. Muggleborns couldn’t properly fit into the Wizarding World, not without completely getting rid of their Muggle side. And who would want to do that? To split one’s soul for two completely different styles of life… That simply wasn’t healthy.

But Muggles? Those innocent, stupid bastards? What have they done? Who will protect them? Who will protect Urhie? Lu doesn’t let themself think that name, but that’s the source of their fears, isn’t it?

SURVIVAL:

Lu came to England as an extended family member of the Travers family. Their real name is, in fact, Travers, but that’s pure coincidence, and there’s no relation to the famous British pureblood family at all. It was only with Mundungus Fletcher’s information and a bit of conning that Lu made themself pass as a member of the Sacred 28. Well, that, and long eyelashes batting with promise of the kind of night you don’t dare speaking to your wife about.

At first it seemed risky to burst into the Upper Pureblood Society without a proper patron, but soon enough Lu realised that while the British liked to present themselves as quiet and respectable, they were no less naughty than the French. Living in a small country Manor, part of the Travers heritage, there’s rarely ever a day – or rather night – that passes without visit. And because none of those patrons are the kind of people to speak about their private affairs, Lu lives more easily than ever before.

It would probably be very easy to just stay out of the war, play innocent in case the Phoenix side wins. But what if all Purebloods get persecuted at the end of the war? So it’s safer to play on both sides. And if the Death Eaters catch Lu meddling with the Order, they can simply say it’s a matter of double-agenting as well. Only properly joining the Order could be a proper risk, and until very recently Lu had absolutely no desire to do that. For what? To get sent into a mission and die? You wish!

But, well, now New Years has happened and sitting still in their country Manor is not as easy anymore, is it? So while everyone is seeking out safety, Lu is, for the first time, leaving their comfortable den, to get themself into trouble. Stupid? Perhaps. Well. Yes, actually. Most definitely very stupid. But… There’s this feeling. This knowledge that danger lies ahead, but that taking a beating or two is all worth it, if at least it will protect Urhie…

RELATIONSHIPS:

In general, Lu is careful not to make close friends.

Oh, their official list of friends is as long as the guest list for a Gatsby Party, sure, but the people that actually know Lu are … non-existent. In the past, whenever there was someone who came too close to Lu, learnt too much and made it hard for them to continue playing the role of luxurious party host and resident play-toy, they’d jump ship. Go to a new country. Find new friends.

At the moment they’re physically very close with a handful of Death Eaters, but none of them ask Lu for private information, only see them as a fun pass-time, and Lu lives for it. There is safety in not being known. Safety in being loved for all the wrong reasons, never hated for all the right reasons.

When it comes to the people of the Order – most of which Lu has yet to meet – they’re rather indifferent to them. Do they have money? Flair? A sense of humour and an ability to hold their liquor? Let’s be friends! Are they bland and all about the war? All right. Let’s focus on the war. They have no interest in being close to any of those people but that doesn’t mean they’re rude to them. They affiliated themselves with the Order for protection, and they are trying to join now to help the Muggles. Much like you treat your local grocery shop lady, Lu is friendly to them, not really trying to play serious or their glamour-card, just interacting in a professional manner. But again, if there are people in the Order who they think could pay for their bling, they will not draw the line just because they’re in the Order. They see the Order the same way they see the Death Eaters: they don’t care much about their ideologies but sees them as individual people.

Suggestions, as discussed with the players:

Peter Pettigrew/Severus Snape: Both of them are Death Eaters, both of them know the faces that hide behind the masks, both of them are wildly aware what that person, who is helping the Order get to personal information about Death Eaters, is properly doing to get to that information. They know Lu’s not a Death Eater, but they also know they’re not fully on the Order’s side. Interestingly enough, they’re the only people Lu’s wary off – on Death Eater side. The Inner Circle of the Order knows that they must be somewhat close to the Death Eaters, but the Death Eaters can under no circumstances learn that Lu’s flirting with the Order. Luckily, both Peter and Severus are also aware of the power that Lu holds against them, so there’s a mutual tension and black-mailing potential going on.

Mundungus Fletcher: Mundungus is the reason why Lu made it to Britain. The two of them met at a bar in Paris, where Mundungus was currently being caught red-handed in a con-gone-awry. Lu helped him and then “I owe you.” “Great. I actually got something I need help with right now.” At first Mundungus seemed irritated that a Muggleborn wants to play Pureblood, but he showed up the next day at Lu’s place anyway, ready to help them con the British Pureblood Society. Their relationship is riddled with quarrels, jabs and insults, but somehow they can’t quite go longer than a week without going out on a drink together again.

Lily Evans: Is reason for great conflict to Lu. On the one hand, she’s a stupid Muggleborn who isn’t even trying to conceal her identity. On the other hand, she’s clearly a talented Witch. Best of her year, they say? So maybe all those prejudices against Muggleborns isn’t actually true? So while at the moment Lu is still facing her with an air of hostility and sceptical arrogance, they do want to know how she’s doing it; finding all this bravery. It might do them well to learn of another Muggleborn’s past. Either because it’ll teach them that not all Muggles are bad, or because it’ll reinforce this idea that Muggles are in fact not suited to know about magic, that the Statue of Secrecy must be kept at all cost.

OOC EXPLORATION:

SHIPS/ANTI-SHIPS: Lu x Dumbledore only, please. Only supreme Sugar Daddies acceptable for my Lu.

No, but seriously, I’d like for Lu to actually get attached for once. You’ll see, they’re very vain and shallow, but beneath all that there’s a genuinely sweet person who wants to be protected as much as they want to protect. So whether that be someone older who fits their usual prey – homewrecking is their speciality! –, or someone younger who they wouldn’t even consider as a romantic partner, I’m very open to it all.

WHAT PRIVILEGES AND BIASES DOES YOUR CHARACTER HAVE?

I think it is safe to say that now that Lu has adopted the Sacred 28 name Travers as their own, they have all the privileges one can only image. They live in a big house with maids and footmen, and while they don’t actually live off the heritage of a long-lost aunt fifth removed like they’ve told the Purebloods they hang out with now, they do have their means to get by. Gain enough money to spend it on all sorts of fun activities.

And because they’ve stopped entering the Muggle world about five years ago, they’re also facing barely any prejudices concerning their skin colour – or extravagant clothes. The former seeming to be a prejudice indeed mostly fostered by a people that took too long to begin travelling the world, the latter a prejudice for a people that has never had a sense of fashion to begin with. The traditional Wizarding costumes are colourful and grand by nature, dramatic in all the right ways, and Lu savours it.

Coming to their own biases and prejudices.

Against Muggles: Stupid, hostile, irrelevant, prejudiced to a painful degree. As the above written paragraph makes it obvious, Lu doesn’t think kindly of their own once-upon-a-time kin – surely because of the way they were treated by them.

Against Muggleborns: Actually, deep down, knowing themselves quite the skilled Magician, they don’t really believe that Muggleblood washes out your powers. However, they do think that every Muggleborn who is still staying in Britain at the moment, without even trying to conceal their identity, is the epitome of stupid.

Against Halfbloods: Barely of any relevance to Lu, but if you’d dug deeper you’d find that they might think any Wizard stupid who thought to marry a Muggle. Can’t be that grand of a family, if there’s traces of dementedness in their blood, right? But mostly they don’t care.

Against Purebloods: In Lu’s opinion, every Pureblood is inherently more powerful than Muggleborns or Halfbloods. I know, I said they know themselves to be incredibly skilled, but those contradictions exist within themselves the same way everything else splits them into two sides. They’ve spent so much time around Purebloods that they can no longer separate the truth from lies, and their beliefs have seeped into their own skin, with a tendency to make them believe they might actually be less skilled at magic as they once thought they were. It’s one of the reasons why they barely ever use magic around Purebloods – simply not to accidentally prove themselves as weak-blooded. They also think all Purebloods are rich.

Against Halfbreeds: Between the horrid prejudices spread by the Pureblood Circles they hang out in, and their own Muggle background, halfbreeds are inherently unhuman to them. In fairy tales, you didn’t see magical creatures be given human emotions. The goblins were greedy, the sirens were sexual predators, the wolves were to devour you. Surely it’s the same in the real world. The house elves love serving, the veelas love dancing on pianos at cocktail parties, and the werewolves want nothing but to kill humans. No matter how much human blood they got in their veins, at the end they’re their fairytale trait… The same way you can’t just shake your Muggleblood, right?

[cherryfloyd-blog]

Jimmy Page - Behind Closed Doors

There are so many cookie crumbs to this story and I truly put as much research into this as my brain could handle. What started as a fun idea, soon turned into a late night adventure of notes sprawled across my bed, snacks to keep the energy going, glasses on; with a pen sticking of my mouth as I thumbed through as many pages of literature that I could get my hands on. There are several parts of this but for the sake of remaining unbiased I will keep it as straightforward and simple as I can. There has been a rumour floating around for fifty odd years, that Led Zeppelin; more specifically Jimmy Page, had made a deal with the devil. In this article, I will break down the events that have lead people to believe such things. In the end, it will remain impartial and will be open to interpretation which we can discuss further.

 To begin, let’s talk about Jimmy’s growing idolisation and obsession with Aleister Crowley, famous for being an occult leader and magician. For more back story, Crowley was a British occultist who became known for pioneering the practice of black magic (or magick as he would call it). Aleister called himself Beast 666 and wrote literature on black magic and the occult, making him a major cult figure. He joined a few popular organizations to begin with, but ventured off into his own self created philosophy. Crowley believed himself to be the prophet entrusted with guiding humanity into  the Eon of Horus, thus founding the Religion of Thelema. 

(Below is the logo of Thelema)

Pictures of Crowley have since been discreetly used in pop culture, as if a small tribute. For example; The Beatles featured Crowley on their album cover art for Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club, he can be seen in the back row, if I’m correct. Building off of Page’s affinity for Crowley, which began to noticeably build by the mid to late 60’s, Page financed to own a bookstore in Britain which specialized in selling publishings of the occult and black magik. Needless to say, Jimmy was in deep at this point but still only scratching the surface of infatuation. The bookstore was named “The Equinox” which was also the name of a book that Crowley himself had written on the occult and magic. To this day, Jimmy Page has the second largest collection of Crowley memorabilia and literature, which is no small expense. His bookstore is now closed, but back in the day had been in stock of some very pricey and hard to come by black magik publications.

Another thing I found interesting, was Page being heavily influenced by very iconic blues artists, such as Robert Leroy Johnson (okay, maybe not that interesting, everyone in rock cites him as being the backbone of rock n roll today) nonetheless, Johnson died at the age of 27 from unsolved and suspicious causes. He never became famous while he was alive, but rumour has it that Johnson had also sold his soul to the devil in return for fame, at a crossroads, which Robert mentions in a few songs. A very small, unrelated tidbit of information, but it makes you wonder if our rock star idols gave up more than a normal life, to become internationally loved and recognized.

Around the year 1970, Jimmy had supposedly asked the band to perform a ritual with him, one that would bring them power and something along the lines of everlasting life? I know right, no biggie, just dabbling with some dark forces. Anyone that knows black magik, can tell you that spells like this are not something to be taken lightly or messed with. John Paul Jones was allegedly the only one to not take part in this pact, which you’ll later realize why that makes all of this so much more strange than it already is. If you think about it, had they made such a pact it would make sense. Robert Plant has made it to the list of top 100 best singers of all time in Rock history, not only that but made it to number one (1). Jimmy Page? Well he’s seen as a god and legend by almost every guitar player in the modern world, and has been ranked number two, only one spot behind Jimi Hendrix. John Bonham has been recognized as one of the best double kick drummers in history, quite literally, every drummer looks up to him as also an almost god like figure. As for John Paul Jones? There is no doubt the man is wicked talented, but not nearly as talked about or famed. We can all acknowledge the man has serious talent, and yet seems to be left in the shadows of his peers.

The first evidence of this pact can be seen with the album Led Zeppelin III, between the end of the last song and the paper label is the outro groove written into the vinyl was “So mote it be” on one side and “Do what thou wilt” on the other. The are basic phrases that are the core of Crowley’s belief system. By this point people were determined that Jimmy had become a member of O.T.O , and organization and cult who’s most influential and iconic member was none other than Crowley. More about the organization can be read about in a link below, but it should be noted that they have four pillar rules; one of which is to not speak of the organization to others or discuss the practices of which they studied. A rule, that Jimmy Page is believed to have broken at one point.

The second piece of evidence was apparent with the release of Led Zeppelin IV, when symbolism became a driving force. Inside the album is a painting of the hermit (a powerful tarot symbol), later in life Jimmy would refer to himself as being something of a hermit despite being a major public figure. The album provides no title, and shows no band name on the cover, but on the inside are four brightly printed logos across the sleeve. From left to right, these symbols represent Page, Jones, Bonham and Plant. Page has said in interviews that the symbols (for the most part) were taken from Rudolf Koch’s 1955 Book of Signs. Plant’s symbol is probably the easiest to decipher - as it is the feather of truth and courage, from the origins of Egyptian goddess Ma’at. John Bonham’s is believed to be either a drum kit, or the symbol of trinity of a family unit (meaning father, mother, child). John Paul Jones, which was likely picked by Jimmy, was the a celtic sigil for confidence and competence. However, Jimmy’s logo has always been the hardest to breakdown and figure out. While most people believe his logo represents saturn (which controls the Capricorn sign, Jimmy is a Capricorn so it would make sense), there is a certain level of mystery behind it. Page has famously said he will never tell anyone what it means. Thought Plant has once said that Page revealed the full meaning of all four signs, including a detailed discussion of what Zoso meant. Admittedly, Plant expressed he was too drunk to remember by the next morning, and when he had asked Page about it again, page replied with saying he couldn’t/wouldn’t discuss it. Now this could very well be Jimmy’s antics, or just general mysterious persona, or perhaps he simply cannot discuss or reveal information. Perhaps, this is the one of the four pillar rules of O.T.O that Page had broken. Jimmy is an all around very private person, who very rarely, if at all, talks about his religious or spiritual beliefs or practices.

It is worth noting that Sandy Denny (pictured below) of Fairport Convention, the voice on The Battle of Evermore track, was given her own sigil. The logo is translated to Godhead or the power of female.

According to Pamela Des Barres, Pages girlfriend of this era, has said that at this point Jimmy got very deep into the studying of Crowley, and had even asked her to search San Francisco and Los Angles for Crowley memorabilia. She had not fallen short on this task, and managed to dig up some very impressive artifacts, manuscripts, and even “magical” robes that Crowley has worn. In 1970, around the time of the ritual, Page had dropped a large chunk of cash to acquire Crowley’s mansion, Boleskine, located on Loch Ness. The home, once owned by Crowley, had a large history of suicides and an even bigger turnover rate of employees as they found the home to be no doubt inhabited by dark entities. Regardless of what one may believe, the house holds a sinister vibe. Page later sold the home in 1992, and had actually been very wary of ever living there and had left the estate in a caregivers possession. Of the 22 years that he had owned the house, he only spent 6 weeks in total living there. In 2016, the house unexplainably burned down. (pictured below is Jimmy at the mansion) 

 Now this next part is where shit gets bonkers, so to speak, the rest so far has been rumours and back stories and alleged encounters. Just a man with an obsession, and depending on your personal beliefs, you may find that he took his practices too far. Perhaps his intentions were pure, but looking at his life in general, what did Jimmy have to sacrifice to become quite literally a noteable person in history. Well let’s see.

Introducing Kenneth Anger; a fellow Crowley disciple and filmmaker, drug taker and subversive. He spent most of his time drawing magic circles, burning incense and chanting spells in Enochian - trying to do a real ritual exorcism. Plans for his film Lucifer Rising began to fall apart when Bobby Beausoleil (lead actor) - had to quit. Bobby, who later stole rough cuts and cameras from Anger would soon regret this. To take revenge, Anger supposedly made a talisman to curse Bobby. Within a year, Beausoleil had ended up convicted of murder with a life sentence for the murder of Sharon Tate as part of the Manson family murders. Wild, I know. Possibly just a coincidence, or even just a tall tale.

Cue Jimmy Page, who had agreed to do the soundtrack for Angers film, and the music Jimmy had produced is exactly what you’d expect. Dark, eerie, and perfect for a film of satanic proportions. Some of which can actually be heard in the intro for “In The Out Door”, his melancholy and devilish sound coming through in the song “In The Evening”. Kenneth and Jimmy had a love/hate relationship, and what started as a mutual appreciation and dedication to Crowley’s practice and image, soon turned to ugly turmoil just as quickly. Anger moved into Boleskine, where him and Page shared a love for Crowley memorabilia. However, as their friendship deteriorated, Anger was asked to leave the Crowley mansion. At the height of Led Zeppelin’s career, Jimmy had pulled out of the film project in 1975. Allegedly, Anger soon stated that he had cursed Page and Zepp with a major spell, a spell so big that it took all of Crowley’s teachings he could muster up, to cast upon them.

 Almost immediately, the band started to experience turbulence and the eventual downfall of their career as one tragedy after another struck them to the core. Robert Plant was in a car crash, plunging off a cliff in Greece in 1975, nearly killing himself, his wife and his son Karac. Which meant cancelling the Physical Graffiti tour and having to record in a wheelchair. The make up tour was littered with negative events starting with Plant getting Laryngitis. Followed by ticketless fans in Cincinnati rioting and storming the gates. In San Francisco, manager Peter Grant and John Boham had gotten into a fight with Bill Graham, and nearly beating a Bill Graham employee to death. Both Grant and Bonham narrowly escaping serious charges and incarceration. Karac eventually fell ill, and no amount of money would make him better, as doctors had no idea what was wrong, by 1977 Karac had passed away and the tour was cancelled. At this point, Plant had quit the band and music in general in response to Page and Jones not showing up to his sons funeral.

Around this time, Page was nearly comatose on a daily basis due to a crippling Heroine addiction, and Bonhams alcoholism was raging out of control, becoming increasingly violent and unpredictable. In 1978, Sandy Denny, the goddess of the Battle of Evermore, drunkenly plunged down a flight of stairs; breaking her neck and died. The tip of the iceberg was the incident that occurred in September of 1980. Handlers had tucked Bonzo into bed after a band rehearsal, following a night of heavy drinking; assuming he would be okay, he’s done it a million times before, right? But as well know, John tragically died in his sleep from asphyxiation. It’s worth mentioning, that in the middle of all of this mayhem, John Paul Jones had remained completely untouched. While the loss of Karac and Bonham had affected John, being as they were family, he was never really directly affected. Could this be because he stayed as far away from the pact as possible? Could these events be natures way of taking something, in return for giving something such as power? Is this all the work of Angers alleged curse?

Robert Plant once addressed these very claims, as some people point fingers at Jimmy being the cosmic reasoning behind the passing of Karac and Bonham. Though, he says it’s a cheap shot. This is what Plant had to say about the matter - “The comments about how it was all connected with Jimmy’s dalliance with the dark side or whatever, that was cheap. I’ve never shared the preoccupations with him and I don’t really know anything about it. Fate is already written”. I suppose it has less to do with whether Page “sold his soul” and more to do with the possible repercussions of playing against nature, and whether such practices have a domino affect. The piling strange circumstances does make one wonder how involved Page really was, and how much the involvement took a toll on the band. Just how much of it can account for Led Zeppelin’s massive success, to the point of making history in music forever (everlasting life?). At the end it could all very well just be a bunch of mumbo jumbo non-sense. I am curious as to what you all think, feel free to leave comments or shoot me a message!

*Note; Do not take this too seriously, it’s all speculation and open for interpretation. Below are some interesting sites that I used in my search!

Resources:

https://forums.ledzeppelin.com/topic/15027-jimmy-and-crowley/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aleister_Crowley

https://carwreckdebangs.wordpress.com/2015/06/09/aleister-crowley-jimmy-page-and-the-curse-of-led-zeppelin-when-myth-magick-and-weird-facts-collide/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ordo_Templi_Orientis

https://zososymbol.com/

[livingatrocitywho]

Fallout

Kacchako AU

So I’ve had this idea stuck in my head for a real long time and figured I may as well share it with the fandom 🤷🏼‍♀️

This is an AU that centres around Bakugou and Uraraka in a post-nuclear world. A lot of the motivation behind this has come from my hyperfixation with the Fallout series and I believe with a fiery passion that the world deserves a BNHA/Fallout crossover AU.

If you’re interested to see inside my head, here is a wee bit of what I’ve written so far...

The first time he had seen the surface had also been the last time he had seen anyone he loved.

The day was so momentous in itself that it’s gravity had spurned the impetual pendulum of guilt in the back of his analytical mind. In his head, it was the worst day of his life.

Heat had screamed at his back as he ran; arms pumping, lungs aching and throat screaming as billows of smoke rolled from the wreckage behind him, thick streams of it chasing his body down the twisted expanse of rock and dirt in dark colours. He had escaped the vault, but his parents had not, and like a heated iron pressed to skin, the night had seared itself into his memory perfectly, every detail crystal clear for Katsuki to reflect upon.

That day marked his first time seeing the universe’s stars, melancholy with everything else happening. The Old World pictures hung ornately on the Vault’s library walls - hundreds of metres below the surface - were nothing in comparison to the real thing. Ripping his eyes from the beautiful black expanse had been close to impossible. Everything he had seen as a child had been painted metal and polished stone, too small, too cold, and too harsh to ever possibly love. The stars had stolen away his breath and he gazed greedily at the rich splendour laid openly above him. Maybe it had also been the first time he had fallen in love.

With the last steps out of his underground prison, he had felt his innocence stolen away. There was no more sanctuary from the nuclear devastation now, no more false pretences could be fostered about life on the surface, and now there was no more family to guide his steps.

He had taken very few steps out onto the Earth’s outer crust before the picturesque stars above had taken his hand and offered a comfort that he stole away with ardent desperation. He’d been fooled into thinking that maybe it would be okay.

He was free.

But he was also just a boy that could claim to be many things. The only thing claiming him though, was the harsh reality of his utter isolation. Leaving the vault had meant freedom, but faced with that, he felt that the anxiety of an unknown future suffocating him. He was alone, and with no one to tell him it would be okay, Katsuki tried to catch the rough sob in his chest, only to whimper agaisnt the wind.

He wished there had never been any problems, and then he wished there had been more time before all his problems came crashing down around him in large shards of metallic shrapnel. He had cursed the world, and waited for his parents to scold him at the use of such language, then when silence was his only scold, his gut wrenched disgustingly. The lack of reply was all too evident, and he was absolutely alone.

He was so alone.

Time hadn’t allowed him his grief, he had to leave. If the rough tremors that had been shaking the Earth beneath his feet and disrupting his vision meant anything other than the succession of his plan, it meant also that the distance between him and his home, his vault, and his parents, was too little. Black smoke spilt from the entrance he’d left, the sparks of rampant fire silhouetting burning structures on the other side and he knew he wouldn’t make it.

Forcing all the suffocating emotions down, Bakugou had to run. From then on, all he would do was run, because with no plan, he had made himself a slave to the fallout. In a sickening way, Bakugou knew he could never have possibly been free. The day was the start of his end, so with no time to wipe away the salty tears cascading brilliantly down his ashen face, Bakugou Katsuki tore his red eyes from the beautiful night sky and ran for his life.

As he neared the bottom of the artificial hill hiding the civilisation responsible for his upbringing beneath his soles, his world exploded. He ran with everything he possessed, hurtling down the side of the rocky burial grounds of Vault 46, backpack strapped tightly to his spine. And as the explosion caught him, his thoughts drfited to the stars.

Katsuki marveled at their beauty in the never ending night, he was awed at how they weren’t dimming even as the entire world around him became engulfed in the flames of his explosion. Every moment of his existence had been slowly spreading red through his mind, and now all he could do, was stare as the sky above flooded with a red so vibrant it quickly became the only thing he could see.