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bulletproofbanditsorbust · 19 days

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Bulletproof Bandits, chapter 3

Feb. 21st, 2023

Characters: oc!Russell Davon, oc!Dylan Harley

Word count: 2118

Warnings: Drinking; smoking weed; animal violence (even though- does it count if they are mutants? idk. i put it in just in case)

Summary: A week later, Russell presents himself at Dylan’s house to go to a bar to party. Then, they head to Liberty City together. Will their journey go as planned?

A/N: The story is really kicking up a notch now! Enjoy :)

“Dylan, do you know where Russell is?”

“Nope. He disappeared from my bed like a week ago.”

Dayana sighed. “Where did he go now…?”

“Relax, he’ll be fine. He’s a big boy, he can take care of himself.” Dylan hesitated. “Uh… well, most of the time.”

“It’s the ‘most of the time’ that concerns me! And he was badly injured, too!”

“He probably went home to rest. Stop worrying for nothing, mom.” Dylan tried to reassure her, but it had the reverse effect.

“Worry for nothing? I have a very good reason to be worried! He– Huh?”

The rumble of a motorcycle blasted through the windows.

“Russell!” Dylan ran outside.

“Hey, Dylan!” Called the redhead over the motor. “I’m headed to the Crimson Dragon! Wanna come?”

“Wait, what?” Dylan crossed his yard filled with junk to come closer to his friend.

Russell pulled the helmet off his head revealing a red raven’s nest. The orange sky was giving an amber tint to his danger-hungry eyes.

“I’m– no, we are going to the Crimson.” Russell repeated. “My treat! I’m rich now!” He laughed and gave Dylan a pat on the shoulder.

“Hell yeah, my dude!” The other exclaimed, giving the pat back. “Lemme get the bike.” He ran to the garage - a shack that was mostly rubble - and started his Wide Glide, which had flames painted all over.

“Where do you two think you’re going?!” Shouted Dylan’s mom over the motorcycles’ noise.

“I won’t come home for dinner, mom!” Her son responded, as he put on the helmet. “But I won’t be too late, I promise!”

“Please be careful!” Dayana recommended, as the two drove off to the sunset.

The Crimson Dragon Pub was one of the few bars that survived the aftermath of the power plant explosion. It was situated on the opposite side of Rhinestone City, so the two friends had a long ride ahead of them to get there.

When they arrived, a crowd was forming at the entrance.

Dylan and Russell looked around. “Oh look!” Dylan pointed at a poster. “Glam Division is playing tonight!”

“Glam Division?!” Russell’s eyes lit up. “Fuck, I love those guys! Let’s go in!”

A few minutes later, the two were inside the dimly lit pub. At the back of the main hall, there was a stage, where the band was playing eardrum-cracking music.

The singer - a lanky guy with long, dirty blond hair, a ragged t-shirt that said “FUCK YOU” on it written with a marker, studded belt, white leather pants, cowboy boots - was screaming the unintelligible lyrics of a punk-rock song in a raspy but powerful voice. Everyone was going crazy on their respective instrument.

Russell and Dylan sat at the counter. The bartender smiled when he noticed them.

“The usual for both, thanks Reggie!” Yelled Russell over the blaring guitars.

Moments later, Reggie came back to the boys with two glasses and one bottle of whiskey.

The redhead poured the amber liquid in both glasses.

He raised his goblet in mid air. “To… uhm…”

“...Our friendship?”

Russell nodded enthusiastically. “To our friendship!”

A clinging of glass and they took a swig together.

“Dude,” Russell swallowed quickly. “You’ll never guess what happened with Robin!”

“Did you two bang?” Presumed Dylan, while pouring another shot.

“Yeah…” His friend slightly inclined his head on the side and elongated the vocals of his word, grinning.

Dylan almost choked on the alcohol. He turned to look at Russell, with his eyes wide open. A large smile formed on his face. “You fucked that uptight bitch?! You fucking legend, you!” He gave his friend a high five, laughing. “How.. How was it?”

“Uh… weird, to put it mildly.” Russell informed, remembering his ruined orgasm. “I think she’s into some kinky shit. She called me a 'bitch boy!'”

“'Bitch boy'? Huh. I wouldn’t expect anything less from her.”

“Yeah… But listen. I have to go to Liberty City next. You up?”

“Liberty City?” Dylan raised his thick, black eyebrows. “Isn’t it where everyone is filthy rich?”

The other nodded. “Exactly.”

“I dunno, man.” Dylan hesitated. “Are you sure we could make it in one piece? You barely did, last time you worked for her. She’s sending you to suicide missions all the time!”

“But I always come out of it alive, don't I?” Russell poured his third shot.

“I mean… Technically, yeah.”

“And it’s mostly thanks to you." Russell went closer to his friend and looked him in the eyes. "So, if we go there together, we’ll be unstoppable.”

A pause.

“Alright, you sold me.” Dylan took another gulp of whiskey. “Do you have a plan?”

“Do I look like a guy who has a plan? All I know is that there are two routes through the desert. One is safer, but takes longer, the other is faster, but more dangerous.”

“Classic. But I think it would be better to play it safe, for now.”

“Agreed. I don’t feel like fighting giant mutants at the moment...” Russell instinctively touched his stomach. "But let's not think about that, we’re here to party!"

"That's the spirit!" Their glasses clanged again.

Two days later, as the sky in Rhinestone City turned red, Russell was at Dylan’s house again.

He knocked. A few moments after, a girl in a floral dress answered the door.

“Hi, Russell!” She cheerfully greeted him.

“Hey, Percy!” He smiled back. “I came here to pick up Dylan. Where is he?” The boy looked over Percy’s shoulder.

“Oh, he’s in his room. Come in!” Dylan’s sister made way for Russell to enter. Despite Percy and Dylan being fraternal twins, they were almost identical. Same facial structure - kind of oblong, with high cheekbones -, same green eyes with golden streaks, same body type - tall and skinny -. The only things that differentiated them were the height - Percy was shorter than Dylan - and the skin tone - hers was slightly lighter than his -.

He thanked Percy as he entered. The boy quickly went upstairs, where you could hear punk rock blaring from the corridor. He walked in Dylan’s room.

His friend was sitting on his desk, drawing something while smoking a joint. The stench of marijuana was palpable.

“Hey–”

Dylan immediately closed his sketchbook and turned around. “Uh… Hi Russell. Whatcha doin’ here?”

"We're going to Liberty City, dude!”

The other took a drag out of his blunt. “So soon? You still need to heal!”

“I’m tired of waiting.”

Dylan shook his head. “Fine. But you won’t complain about it, okay?”

“Sure, whatever.” Russell let himself fall on the bed. “Can you share?” He nodded at the joint.

“I thought we were going to Liberty City.”

“Yeah, but I’d hate to waste some good weed, man!”

Dylan took one last puff and then handed it to Russell. “Careful. This one gets you high as fucking tits, dude!”

“Shouldn’t it be the point?”

“Hah. Guess you’re right.”

"I had another weird nightmare last night." Stated Russell, after a couple of drags.

"The one where you're in the lab?"

The other shook his head. "I was... I think in the middle of the street, a crowded street. And I killed everyone."

"Huh. Gnarly."

"Yeah. And you were there with me, but at the same time I'm not sure because the guy looked nothing like you, but you know how dreams are... He sounded like you, though. Anyway, I murdered a bunch of people and you looked at me and... Instead of running away, you walked towards me."

Dylan arched his eyebrows. "Really?"

"I ain't shitting you." Said Russell, staring at the joint. "You ran at me and I think I was ready to slice your throat, but before I could do that..." He looked at his friend. "You hugged me. Tight. And y'know... I felt good when I was killing but when you hugged me... It felt even better, like a warm sensation in my chest. Then I woke up."

"Huh... What do you think that means?"

The redhead shrugged. "That you are my friend, through thick and thin."

"Yeah, yeah..." Dylan nodded slowly. "I mean, no doubt about it." He smiled.

Russell's eyes lit up, grinning back. "Here, wanna finish it?" He gave the joint back to his friend.

Ten minutes later, the two friends were going downstairs.

“Russell! Russell!” A little boy ran through the small living room.

“Oh, Tommy! How’s it going, my lil’ guy?” Russell greeted him with a friendly tone.

“Russell! Where are you going, Russell?”

“I’m going on a mission!”

“Can I come? Pleeease?” Tommy pulled at the boy’s leather jacket.

Russell smiled, ruffling his curly, black hair. “Not until you grow big and strong, Tommy!”

Dylan’s brother pouted. “Aw, man… You never say yes!”

“That’s because it’s too dangerous for a little boy like you!”

“I’m not a little boy! I’m seven! I can shoot the bad guys just like you!” He then proceeded to imitate a gun with his hands. “Pew, pew!”

“Sure, lil’ guy!” Russell giggled. “C’mon Dyl, let’s go.”

Russell and Dylan were riding their motorcycles through the desert.

“How long do you think it's gonna take to get there?” Asked Dylan, through the walkie-talkie that Russell gave him before heading off.

“I don’t know.” Responded his friend. “Could be an hour, could be three. I’ve never taken this route before.”

“Do you think there are mutants lurking about?”

“There shouldn’t be. It’s night, and this is supposed to be the safe zone. We'll be fine.”

“If you say so, cap’n– oh fuck…”

Dylan didn’t have the time to finish his sentence, when a few shadows took shape faraway.

“Do you see them too?” Russell wanted to know, a note of anxiety in his voice.

“Yeah. Seems like… jackals?”

“Let’s ignore them, maybe they didn’t see us.”

“Roger that.”

They sped up, passing the animals’ line of sight.

Dylan heard Russell curse in a panic through the two-way radio.

“What?! What’s happening?!” Dylan inquired. But then, he realized. “Oh no…”

Howls and barks were heard behind them.

“What should we do?!”

“Go past me! I’ll deal with them!” Russell ordered.

“But you have the package and you still have to recover from the wounds, you wouldn’t be able to hold a gun–”

“Run!!!”

With worry and heaviness in his heart, Dylan did what Russell said, and hit the gas.

Russell pulled out the gun from his leather jacket and took aim behind him. The dogs, thrice as big as regular ones, were terrifying-looking creatures with infected scabs all over their battered bodies, fangs to make sharks envious with foam at the mouth and glowing radioactive-green eyes.

With trembling fingers, the boy tried to shoot one of them, but the hit went just right above the beast’s head.

“Shit…”

He tried again, one, two, times. The last bullet exploded the jackal’s head.

Two more to go.

Russell reloaded as he regained his balance on the bike.

The mutated creatures were now running beside him, trying to bite his feet.

“Stay away from me!” He yelled, kicking one of them. The canine yelped and fell behind.

Russell glared at the last one standing. “Now it’s just you and me…”

Dylan was speeding through the highway, when a crackling noise came from the walkie-talkie.

“Russell?”

Silence.

“Russell!”

More crunching noises.

“Hey-hey, Dylan! How’s it going?” A familiar voice talked through the speaker.

“Fuck, dude!” Dylan let out a sigh of relief. “You got me worried!”

“I’m fine, I’m fine… Cut it close, though. My shoulder hurts like hell.”

Dylan sighed. “I told you it wasn’t a good idea…”

“What can I say, I like to live dangerously!” His friend cackled.

“Can you see me?”

“Not really, I think you are way further than me… Oh wait, I think it’s you!”

Dylan looked behind him. A bright light was following him. He made a gesture with his hand. “I just raised my arm, can you see that?”

“Yeah, it’s definitely you!”

“Ah, good.” Dylan turned around, facing the road in front of him. “Woah…”

“What… What’s happening?”

“Dude, I think we’re almost there.”

“Yeah, I see it too…” Russell said through the handheld transceiver.

As the horizon cleared, Liberty City loomed in the distance.

#bulletproof bandits

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2014ssdriver · 1 year

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Check it out

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deadlinecom · 1 year

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kronoose · 1 year

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Ceaseless watcher turn your gaze upon these freaking pans

Yes we're on the eye with one of my favorite they started as I side charecter OCS and sparky's gf

Cw queer character death mentioned no details or anything

So let's start out with my only vampire OC Blaise he/him (uses vampire pun Neos when around old stuck up vampires) also they/them

he has a husband who was the first one created but now I use Blaise way more

So he has 3 separate origin stories

First is from the book he's in his mom and sister are witches and at the ripe age of 16 he was kidnapped for not letting a random vampire feed from him in the middle of class. Then two years later he gets turned right before his kidnapper gets killed so he gets trained to just murder when hungry by a very human are just our cattle type lady. Blaise is then like that's kinda fucked up Imma go do magic and be gay in the city peace out and so he opens his shop and sells potions and other magical stuff to help other supernatural people exist without murder

Then one day he catches a very handsome guy trying to steal a book after a few days with said thief under a de ageing spell cast by Blaise then they bond over both being cursed and loving to fuck around with magic they don't fully understand. Now they live together and are very gay together

next, he was born a vampire and is your stereotypical wattpad vamp and never met his husband and just has no magic

last is he was born a vampire but got shunned for his thirst for human magic same as the first but herc is dead so he's just a lonely rich guy who needs blood to run

I was originally going to just put him with whichever the Canon vampires are working for but there's no answer on which they really belong with so I went with the eye as his hunger for new magic leads to his shop becoming a sort of mini institute just more for artifacts

He is marked by the hunt as well because like his husband is an avatar of the hunt and he often does end up forgetting to feed himself and falls into a bloodlust.

Next we've got sparky's gf who came from me being like oooo this pic crew looks pretty x 10 then feeling bad about them just sitting as open tabs

Dayana she/her holder of the axolotl miraculous of medicine aka seadragon

She's the brains behind the operation of being the back up box idk it just seemed to fit her

#vampire original character #miraculous oc #ceaseless watcher #the eye #tma eye #the beholding #bad joke #tw blood #tw death #sortingocstma

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ts4hotspot · 1 year

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For @alltimefail-sims Bachelorette challenge :)

Name: Dayana Oakes (Day)| Age: 25 | She/They, Lesbian

Aspiration: Eco Innovator

Career: Civil Designer (Green Technician)

Traits: Vegetarian, Kleptomaniac, Bookworm, Movie Buff, Creative.

Likes: Black, green, alternative, focus, metal, and singer/songwriter music, baking, cross stitch, pink/black hair, baking, activism.

Dislikes: BOWLING, (They quite literally can’t even be near a bowling alley.... and can’t wait to tell the story why :) ) grey hair, country outfit style, arrogant assholes.

Fun facts about Day-

~ Day grew up and into an extremely rich family from San Myshuno, but when they turned 18, they ran away to live in the gorgeous town of Sulani, as to get away from her parents’ raging homophobia and hate for Day’s activism for LGBTQ+ community as well as women’s rights. (Their family thought it gave them a bad name)

~She got a degree from the esteemed Foxbury Institute for Communications- Day hated the university but was EXTREMELY passionate about the career track they were going into, so that pushed them through.

~ Day is fluent in both Japanese as well as ASL. Her younger sister is deaf so she learned at a young age and taught her sister as well, since their parents’ were too busy with their careers to even notice them.

~They do not have a car, because they believe riding their bike is MUCH more sustainable for the environment (and they think they look cooler that way)

~She is an EXTREME hopeless romantic, straight out of the gates. Day believes that chivalry is not dead, and wants to open her whole heart and world to someone that will be able to do the same for her. Day does NOT waste time on people that cannot give them the love that they lacked in their childhood, as she wants children and does NOT want her children to go through the same hardships as she did.

~They are a coffee ENTHUSIAST, down to find every single cafe near the area they are in just to see which one has the best vibes as well as flavor, and has a blog to rank them all.

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remixinc · 2 years

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vimeo

NOWNESS : IN RESIDENCE from Jae Close on Vimeo.

In Residence: Pedro Reyes & Carla Fernández

Inside the cavernous concrete home and creative headquarters of Mexico’s celebrated design couple The Mexico City home of artist Pedro Reyes and fashion designer Carla Fernández is a continually adapting architectural project. Coarse concrete walls divide the sprawling space into discrete sections that, over the years, has evolved to meet both the demands of a working atelier and comfort of a family home.

“Their home is more than just a living space but a reflection of their commitment to working with the community”

The daunting brutalism of the space is offset by Fernández’s vibrant textiles and Reyes’ sculptural work. A larger than life-sized sculpture of Vladimir Lenin’s head lies in repose, a wooden “hand chair” with articulating fingers sits in the corner, and shovels cast from melted down weapons hang on a wall. Moving from the manmade to the natural, the master bathroom resembles an ancient geological site with its carved volcanic stone basin and roughly-hewn rock pool bathtub. Around the home lightwells of brilliant yellow interrupts the grey of the concrete, while large cacti and palms beckon a sense of the outdoors.

Their Coyoacán home is more than just a living space but a reflection of their commitment to working with the community. Most of the cement work was completed in-house by local craftspeople and the workshop is continually awash with neighborhood artisans working on Reyes’s new sculptural projects.

Reyes’s opus extends far beyond material arts and sculptures—most notably his People’s United Nations (stylized as “pUN”) invited 193 volunteers to find resolutions to geopolitical conflicts using psychology and theater.

Meanwhile, Fernández’s eponymous fashion label works alongside indigenous communities in order to promote traditional weaving techniques and patterns to global audiences. As the couple continually seek out new partnerships and opportunities for knowledge exchange, they have both been visiting lecturers for the MIT program in Art, Culture and Technology. The couple’s work, just like their cavernous home, is a testament to the rewards of local collaboration and celebration of Mexico’s rich heritage.

director @justintylerclose cinematographer @_jeremycox producer @gonzalormro executive producer @stavenhagen @cineburo editor @coopvchrn colourist @abewynen composer and sound designer @gregbevis sound mixer DAYANA CAPULONG sound recordist ENRIQUE DOMINGUEZ 1st assistant camera @pewee2403 2nd assistant camera FRANCISCA BETAL 3rd assistant camera EDGAR SAENZE translation PILAR CORDOBA digital tech AKAASH MORA equipment tech ISRAEL RAMOS production assistance @pinchefiona behind the scenes stills @funkadelics camera supplied by @simplementemx

Thanks Mariana Ortiz, @lissongallery, @gongygongs

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calgoodie · 4 years

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Calum’s character study. Just something I stole from AJ who stole it from Bay :))

BASIC

FULL NAME: Calum Taylor Goodrich

HOW IS IT PRONOUNCED?: Cal-um Tay-lor Good-rich

IS THERE A MEANING BEHIND IT?: No

NICKNAMES: Cal, Calcium Trashbin, Goodie

AGE: Twenty-One

DATE OF BIRTH: September 21st, 1998

ZODIAC SIGN: Virgo

PLACE OF BIRTH: Salinas, California

HOMETOWN: Carmel, California

LOCATION: Dayton, California

ETHNICITY: Biracial (Mexican Hispanic, Swedish, Native American, French, English, and Iranian)

NATIONALITY: American

RELIGIOUS VIEWS: Agnostic

EDUCATION LEVEL: Senior in college

OCCUPATION: Lighting/Audio tech at The Cage, coal runner at Tits, Clits, & Bong Hits

MENTAL CONDITIONS: Major Depression, PTSD, generalized anxiety

PHYSICAL IMPAIRMENTS: None

ADDICTIONS: Marlboro reds, cocaine (when available), psychedelics

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

HAIR COLOR: Brown

HAIR STYLE: Short, and lightly curled. Essentially this

EYES COLOR: Brown

CLOTHING STYLE: I’ve always said that Calum wears a lot of the same thing over and over. Lots of black t-shirts and dark jeans. He’s a lighting tech so as a techy wearing a lot of black is a must. That doesn’t change much when he’s working at TC&BH. In between, he likely wears a lot of jackets (hoodies, jean jacket, rain slickers, whatever in his closet). He has one suit that he wears on special occasions and that’s it.

PERSONALITY

POSITIVE TRAITS: Creative, passionate, charming

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Indecisive, clingy, impulsive

WHAT DO THEY CONSIDER TO BE THE BEST AND THE WORST PART OF THEIR PERSONALITY?: Calum would consider the best part of his personality to be that he loves wholeheartedly and puts way more trust into people than he should. The worst part is that he is painfully indecisive and his anxiety often gets in his way of being able to confidently make a decision.

ARE THEY MORE EXTROVERTED OR INTROVERTED?: He’s very much an ambivert.

ANY TALENTS?: He can blow smoke rings. Best pussy licker in town. Dems da facts.

WHAT ARE THEIR FEARS?: Slides, rejection, losing people

ANY ALLERGIES?: No

DO THEY HAVE ANY PHOBIAS?: monophobia

WHAT IS THEIR SOFT SPOT?: Animals, The Ew Crew, his romantic partners

LIST 3 PET-PEEVES THEY CAN’T STAND: Rap, people trying to speak in accents that aren’t their own, loud talking

PAST

BEST MEMORY: Joining an underground lobster smuggling ring with Evie

WORST MEMORY: Probably watching his dad get shot and then watching his attacker kill herself.

BIGGEST SECRET: He had sex with Evie

BIGGEST WISH: To have a family with Callie that somehow includes Dayana

BIGGEST FEAR: Being alone

FIRST KISS: age 14 end of 8th grade.

FIRST LOVE: Georgie Sanford

CHILDHOOD BEST FRIEND: Jane Ridley

CHILDHOOD PERSONALITY: 0-14 energetic, curious, athletic, outgoing. 14-18 solemn, angry, jealous, anxious mess

ROMANCE & SEXUALITY

TURN ONS: Neck kisses, shoulder bites, soft voices, when Callie calls him daddy, being dominant, being dominated (we stan a switch), bondage, breath play, when someone brings him taco bell.

TURN OFFS: Being yelled at, no lube, cock cages

MISCELLANEOUS

SPEAKING VOICE CLAIM: Benjamin Wadsworth’s voice

SINGING VOICE CLAIM: Jake Scott

RELATIONSHIP WITH MOTHER: Calum never had a relationship with his mom. She did shortly after giving birth to him.

MOTHER’S NAME: Tara Goodrich

RELATIONSHIP WITH FATHER: Calum’s father raised him after his mom died. Their relationship was pretty good until his dad started dating Denise. After which both of them got heavily into drugs and what started as a lighthearted good time turned into night after night of heavy abuse. His father would torture and find various ways to make his life miserable until almost blinding him and sending him off to live with his aunt and uncle.

FATHER’S NAME: Raymond Goodrich

SIBLINGS: None but Max & Ainsley Slater are his cousins.

PETS: Moose (Dog), Blue (Dog), Tater Tot (Dog), Kevin Bacon (Tea cup pig), Crackers (opossum), Sir Woolington the third (Sheep), Kevin (fish), Tapas (dead shark in a knight costume)

ROLE MODELS: Glen Bell, Hayden

FAVORITE PLACE: City Watertower, Highway 1

FAVORITE ANIMALS: Russian Sables

FAVORITE BOOKS: The Sneeches, Cat and the Hat, The Lorax, Sea Glass Heart (as written by Callie Forsyth)

FAVORITE MOVIES: Where the Wild Things Are, Ponyo, Pokemon Mew Two Strikes Back

FAVORITE MUSIC: alternative rock, pop, country, really anything sad AF

FAVORITE FOOD: Taco Bell

QUIRKS

ARE THEY RIGHT OR LEFT HANDED?: Right Handed

WHAT’S A WORD THAT’S ALWAYS ON THEIR LIPS?: “Sit on my face.”

WHAT LANGUAGES DO THEY SPEAK?: English

DO THEY CURSE?: Yes

WHAT’S THEIR WORST HABIT(S)?: Cheating

DO THEY DRINK OR SMOKE? HOW FREQUENTLY?: Calum absolutely does both but not nearly as frequently as he used to after he started dating Callie.

ARE THEY AN EARLY BIRD OR A NIGHT OWL?: A little bit of both. It depends on when he’s working.

HOW TIDY IS THEIR ROOM?: His room is actually super well taken care of. Calum likes to keep his space clean. Easy to do since he doesn’t own much.

HOW LONG TO THEY USUALLY TAKE GETTING READY?: Calum literally takes like 10 minutes to get ready unless he’s being DISTRACTED.

#bio

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lesbianarcana · 5 years

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Luceo non Uro - Chapter 2

conjunctis viribis (with connected strength)

Relationships: Asra/Apprentice

Rating: Mature

| Read on Ao3 |

It was a whole year before they saw each other again.

Following the Masquerade, the rest of the year passed quicker than Daya thought possible--perhaps quicker than they would have liked. During the day they served customers at the shop; an endless routine of describing the properties of newt flesh and meadowsweet, selling pep-up potions and reading tea leaves. At night they studied the Liber Yvonis and practiced spells by candlelight.

The days blurred into weeks, then months. And the months rolled by.

They half-hoped to see him in passing, perhaps set up in one of the markets or in the town square. They’d even looked for him once or twice (as embarrassing as that was to admit)...but between tending the shop and learning magic, there hadn’t been the time to search properly. Then on the first night of next year’s Masquerade, they went out onto the balcony to watch the fireworks--and there, nestled against a stack of empty crates, was the little booth draped in purple and blue cloths.

Daya leaned over the railing eagerly, almost tipping over in their haste, but there was no light emanating from beneath the drawn cloths. Perhaps he had left for the night...it was well past sunset after all, only a few more hours to midnight. Then the flap opened, twitched aside by a slender brown hand. A head of white hair appeared, gleaming in the moonlight.

“Hey!”

Asra jumped and glanced around, then upwards.

“Remember me?” Daya called. They leaned over further, so the moonlight caught their features. Recognition flashed in his eyes.

“Dayana?”

“Daya, please.”

“Daya, of course. Wow, it’s been a while…”

“It’s been an entire year, give or take.” They leaned their chin on their hand and gazed down. “Here to sell your tricks, fortune-teller?”

“Something like that,” Asra said. He looked pleased to see them, something that made them smile without really knowing why. “Why don’t you come down?”

“As you wish,” Daya said, and swung their legs over the railing. Asra’s expression changed from pleased to alarmed.

“Careful--”

They vaulted off the balcony, and his cry of alarm echoed up and down the street--but instead of falling they floated, drifting on a rush of magic that blew their voluminous skirts in disarray.

Daya landed lightly on the street and promptly burst out laughing at the stunned look on Asra’s face. He began to laugh too, and their combined giggles chased the passing Masquerade revelers up and down the street.

“You’ve learned a few tricks,” Asra said, when they could both breathe again.

Daya nodded, beaming from ear to ear. “The study paid off, as you said. My aunt has me doing some spreads for her customers now, and I’m working on palmistry at the moment. I’m gaining a very particular set of skills.”

“Skills that include leaping off balconies, of course.”

They bowed with a dramatic flourish. “Naturally, but I reserve that for special occasions.”

Asra’s cloak twitched and shuddered, then Faust peeked out from the fabric, her tongue tasting the air.

Daya gasped in delight. “Oh--Faust!”

The snake passed into Asra’s hands and stretched out, her body wavering unsteadily.

“You want to hang with Daya, huh?” Asra said, and stepped closer. “Don’t be afraid if she squeezes you. It’s just her way of showing affection.”

The feeling of Faust’s cool, sinuous body was oddly comforting. Daya let the snake wind herself around their shoulders, and gave her a little stroke under the chin.

“Who’s the best, hm?” they murmured, and they could have sworn the snake looked them right in the eye. “It’s you, of course. You’re the best girl.”

Chuckling, Asra began to untie the drapes that made up his makeshift tent, and Daya moved to help him.

Inside the tent were a few upturned crates covered with thin pieces of fabric, scattered with little trinkets they hadn’t seen before. Sticks of incense in tiny jars, little clay figurines and a selection of delicately crafted masks.

“Did you make these?”

Asra straightened, folding a drape, and his gaze followed theirs. “Yes, sort of. My friend carved and shaped them. I painted them.”

“They’re wonderful,” Daya said honestly, and picked up one in the shape of a lion, complete with a mane of gold chiffon. “This is beautiful work. You should be proud.”

“Ah, I don’t know about that.” He shot them an embarrassed smile. “I just put some paint on them, but I’ll tell my friend you liked the work.”

“Is your friend here too?”

“No, he really doesn’t like the crowds, and it’s hard for him this time of year. All the extra people make him really nervous.” Asra shrugged. “So I come here by myself to sell the things we make.”

“Dayana!”

Asra must have remembered the trouble they’d been in the first time they’d met (they remembered too; vividly). His mouth twitched into a mischievous grin.

“Are you in trouble again, Daya?”

“No,” they laughed, and took a few steps back--enough to see the dark silhouette of their aunt leaning over the balcony. “I’m here, Aunty!”

“Daya, you left the balcony doors open again!” Tilaya called down. She sounded exasperated, and Daya shot Asra a grin.

“Sorry, Aunty. I’ll be inside in a few minutes, I promise.”

“Two minutes, and not one second late! Dinner is almost ready.”

The doors closed, and their aunt’s footsteps faded. Asra grinned.

“What was that about being in trouble?”

“Very funny. Hurry up so we can go inside and eat.”

Asra’s eyes widened. “Oh, I didn’t expect to--”

“I know you didn’t,” Daya said, and began to fold another drape. “I’m inviting you. Besides, if my aunt knew I had let you go home hungry, she’d be very cross. So really, you’d be doing me a favour.”

“Of course,” Asra said seriously, but his eyes were dancing. “Well, if I’m doing you a favour, then I suppose we should hurry up.”

The downstairs lanterns were still lit when Daya ushered him through the back door and into the little side room. Asra glanced around curiously, taking in the draped table and the worn velvet seats. The furniture took up nearly the entire room, as well as a pair of heavy curtains that separated it from the next room.

Daya propped the tent poles up on the wall and gestured for him to pass over the folded drapes.

“This is where my aunt does her readings,” they said. “Your things will be safe here, I promise.” They brushed past him, tied back the heavy curtains and waved him into the shop proper. “Come see the shop before we eat.”

Asra’s eyes went immediately to the glass cabinet, which wasn’t unexpected--it was long enough to take up most of the shop front, and glittered all sorts of tantalising colours in the lantern light. He wandered over to it and peered down at the displays.

“Rose quartz,” he noted, as Daya stood behind the cabinet. “Citrine, and that looks like...hematite.”

He inhaled deeply and they mimicked him, knowing what he would smell--dried herbs, books, tea and a thick, latent energy that permeated the very walls.

“You know,” he said. “I think I’ve been here before, a long time ago.”

“Oh?”

“My parents were magicians, too. I seem to remember accompanying them to a place like this.” Asra looked away, towards one of the bookshelves on the opposite wall. Daya could almost picture him as a child, staring at the glass displays with wide-eyed curiosity while his parents haggled prices in the background.

He hadn’t mentioned his parents at all before, but it wasn’t like they knew each other that well. Perhaps he had lost them; that would explain the great loss the cards had spoken of. Then Tilaya’s voice floated from upstairs, calling their name, and a rich, savoury smell reached their nostrils. They packed away their curiosity. It was none of their business, after all.

Daya took the stairs two at a time and skidded breathlessly into the kitchen, where their aunt was supervising a large pot on the stove.

“Hi, Aunty. I brought a friend for dinner, just so you know. Hope we have enough--”

Aunt Tilaya turned on the spot, wooden spoon in hand. Dark red curls peeked out from her head scarf, plastered to her temples with sweat from standing so near to the stove. Her amber eyes narrowed in an expression of annoyance--then widened.

“Dayana Firestone. Is that a snake?”

They’d forgotten Faust was still hanging around her shoulders, her tongue tasting the air.

“Um...yes? But she’s not my snake. She’s--”

A few tentative footsteps and Asra’s head appeared in the stairwell. Tilaya recovered quickly, pressing the spoon into Daya’s hand and hurrying to greet him.

“And who is this?”

“That’s Asra,” Daya called from the kitchen as they extinguished the fire. “He’s my new friend.”

Asra smiled, and extended his hand. “Good evening.”

Tilaya pressed his hand between hers and gave him a swift, searching look. Then she smiled, warm and open.

“You look familiar,” she said. “Have you been here before? I think I would remember a person with your aura...you’re a powerful one, my word. Sit, sit.”

“I was just saying to Daya that your shop seems familiar too,” Asra replied, and sat in the chair she pulled out for him. “I must have come here with my parents.”

“If they were magicians like you, then they must have. Now, I hope you’re hungry.” Tilaya jerked her head at Daya, who emerged from the kitchen with two steaming bowls. “This child sprung your company on me at the last minute, but we have plenty to share.”

Asra shot a grin at Daya over their aunt’s shoulder, and they had the grace to look sheepish.

“Aunty makes the best stew, and it has everything in it.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere with me, child,” Tilaya said, but she was smiling.

Daya set one of the bowls before Asra, then the other before their aunt. “Meat, vegetables, rice, seafood...it’s an all-in-one. And it’s spicy. Hope you can handle spicy.”

In truth, Daya had an ulterior motive for bringing Asra to dinner besides feeding him: their aunt was a talker with a knack for coaxing people to open up. It was part of what made her so sought after as a fortune-teller. People from all over town came to her not just for simple fortunes, but for her counsel as well. If anyone could get Asra to open up a little, it would be her.

“This is the fortune-teller who’s been bringing curious customers to our shop for the last two Masquerades, Aunty.” Daya gently gathered up Faust and returned her to Asra’s cloak, before retrieving their own bowl and sitting next to their aunt.

Tilaya looked at him with renewed interest and paused with her fork halfway to her mouth.

“So,” she said, with a satisfied smile. “You’re the one who’s responsible for my influx of customers. And you tell fortunes! I can see why my Daya likes you.”

Daya blushed furiously and gave their aunt a surreptitious glare. “I’m happy I could help,” Asra said seriously, though his expression was amused.

The stew disappeared rapidly between them. Through Tilaya’s gentle questioning they learned Asra lived with his friend on the outskirts of town, and that he had lost his family when he was younger. That all but confirmed they had been the great loss spoken of by the cards, and Daya felt a little guilty for bringing such a private thing to light--especially when they had been strangers at the time. They couldn’t exactly say so without intruding further, but…

“I lost my parents too.”

They could reciprocate, at least.

Asra’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly as they spoke into the silence. Daya’s fingers twisted around their fork, dropping their gaze. With a click of her tongue Tilaya wrapped an arm about them and pulled them close, pressing her lips to the top of their curly head.

Asra said nothing, but he didn’t need to. His look spoke volumes.

“It wasn’t so long ago,” their aunt said, her voice hushed. Daya kept their gaze down, blinking furiously. “Just under two years now. Though of course, the passing of time doesn’t make the loss of any less importance.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Daya squirmed, but let Asra’s sympathy wash over their. Turnabout was fair play, after all.

“Thank you. Losing family is hard.” Tilaya released Daya and chucked them under the chin, her eyes affectionate. “Daya came to live with me after it happened. It was a great loss, but...I’m still given a blessing. The opportunity to teach this treasure everything I know--everything their Apa didn’t have the time to teach them.” She stood and began to gather their bowls and forks, waving Daya away as they moved to help. “Go entertain your guest.”

There was a moment’s silence, punctuated by the clink of dishes and Tilaya’s humming. Then Daya leaned their chin on their hands and smiled brightly at Asra.

“What did you think of the stew?”

“It was delicious.” His fingers scritched Faust under the chin. “I...I should leave soon. Muriel...my friend will be expecting me back.”

Disappointment must have soured their expression, for Asra smiled at them. “Did you want to practice on me again?”

“I can do actual readings now, thank you very much,” they retorted, and stood. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

The lanterns downstairs brightened with a flick of their fingers as they headed down the stairs. The smell of the stew lingered, blending with the warmth of the energy pulsating off the walls.

“Come into my lair,” Daya said, waving him towards the backroom, and he giggled. “Come, come, my hapless querent. Ask the Arcana to read your fortune….”

“Do you put on this act for all of your customers?”

“No,” they laughed. “Well, maybe. My aunt says it’s as much about an air of mystery as the actual reading. I’m about as mysterious as...well, I don’t know. Not very mysterious, I’m afraid.”

This time when they touched the deck there was no rush of magic, and the lantern stayed lit--but a faint whisper brushed by their ear, making them jump, and the cards hummed under their fingers.

“They recognise your aura,” Asra observed. He watched with interest as they shuffled; he sat next to them rather than across the table, so he could watch their movements.

“The archetype reading.” Daya laid out five cards, and his eyebrows rose. “The five aspects of the self. The persona, the shadow, the opposite energies, the heart’s desire.”

Asra’s eyes lidded; a smirk played around his mouth, but he said nothing.

They flipped the first card.

“The Magician.”

Asra stilled. His eyelids fluttered, and he leaned forward slightly. “And? What does the card say?”

Daya passed their hand over the card and calmed their breath. In the silence they felt it--a faint whisper against her ear; the answering echo of their own intuition.

“Aside from the obvious? It means you’re in control of your own path, your own desires. Didn’t I pull this card for you the last time?”

“You did,” Asra replied. He stared at the card thoughtfully.

“It meant something different. Today it means you identify most with this archetype. He’s part of the self you present to the world, how you like to be perceived.”

They opened their eyes and cast him a quick glance, but his expression was neutral. So they turned over the second card.

“Temperance, reversed.”

“Whaaat,” Asra said, under his breath, and Daya laughed.

“Temperance is my aunt’s favourite card,” they said. “Reversed, it indicates you react with extreme measures in a crisis. It’s...well, it can be interesting to think about, the lengths you might go to protect someone you cared about. What you would do, or wouldn’t do.”

They tapped the card thoughtfully. Asra caught their eyes again, opened his mouth to speak.

“Don’t worry,” Daya added, and he fell silent. “You don’t have to tell me. Something to think about, at least.” Without waiting for a response they flipped the third card. “The Ace of Cups. This is...a good card. It means when you love, you love honestly and deeply.”

Asra smirked. “Is that a surprise to you, Daya?”

“No. But you clearly do work on maintaining that air of mystery.” Asra gave them a little teasing nudge, and they laughed.

“Don’t act like you don’t know, fortune-teller,” they said, eyebrows raised. “You charmed my aunt, but you can’t fool me. I see you.”

Asra said nothing, but his smile brightened. Laughing, Daya turned over the fourth card.

“The Queen of Pentacles. Someone solid and grounded. Reliable.”

“I’m sure my friend doesn’t think so right now.”

The last card lay between them. Daya flipped it reluctantly, knowing this meant the end of their evening.

“The--huh. The Lovers.”

Asra’s eyes widened, and to their surprise a blush began to bloom across his cheeks. “The Lovers?”

“It’s not that literal,” Daya said hastily. Their cheeks burned with heat, and silently she thanked the darkness of their skin for hiding the worst of it. “It can mean the desire for partnership and connection. It’s a good card. It means you want to reach out to other people. Anyway, why am I explaining this? You already know that.”

They expected Asra to give some teasing remark in reply, but he was oddly quiet as they stacked the deck and gave it back to him.

“Well? How did I do?”

Asra stared down at the deck in silence. As the seconds crawled by Daya thought perhaps they had offended him in some way. Then he passed his hand over the cards and they vanished.

“You’ve improved so much, Daya,” he said, and looked up at her. “And beyond that...you have a knack for seeing people.”

“I see you.”

A quick breath drawn in through parted lips--then Tilaya’s voice reached them from the stairwell.

“Daya! Asra! Where are you two?”

They emerged from the back room to find Tilaya descending the stairs. In one hand she clutched a battered old broom; in the other a little wrapped ceramic pot.

“There you are,” she said. “Good, you haven’t left yet. Here, this is for you--” she handed Asra the pot, and Daya the broom. “--and this is for you.”

Asra looked startled, but quickly recovered. “Thank you, Aunt.”

“How come Asra gets leftovers and I get sweeping duty?” Daya complained.

Tilaya gave them a gentle pinch on the cheek. “Because Asra is my guest, and you are my apprentice. Where are your manners, child? And don’t you give me that look. I know you were flexing that sense of humour.”

Grinning, Daya took the broom and tucked it in the crook of their arm. Tilaya smiled at Asra.

“Don’t be a stranger now,” she said. “I’ll be wanting to know what your friend thinks of my stew. And I know my Dayana will want you to visit, too.”

With a pat to Asra’s shoulder, Tilaya turned and went back upstairs. Daya waited for the sound of her swishing skirt to fade, then turned back to Asra with an embarrassed smile.

“Well, there you have it,” they said. “You have to visit so my aunt can embarrass me some more. It’s her favourite pastime.”

“Daya…” Asra paused, biting his lip, as if trying to find the words. Then he pulled them into a quick hug. “Thank you.”

“Nonsense.” They reached for his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Just promise it won’t be an entire year before we see each other again.”

“I will.” He gave them a small smile, and clutched the pot close to his chest. “I will see you soon. You can hold me to that.”

#the arcana game #asra alnazar #asra x mc #asra x apprentice #fan apprentice #dayana firestone #my writing #luceo non uro fic #q

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