#dropped a little over $150 on figures in one trip

[transingthoseformers]

At what point does a hyperfixation turn into a soecial interest /gen

Because I've been in the transformers fandom for threeish years now and know way too goddamn much

[geekedoutbunny]

Heey ) Can I ask Quilge, Askin and Cang Du ( i'm not sure if you write about this character 😅) getting jealous ? Like someone else trying to get their lovers attention and how would they react? What will they do? If it possible fluff please c:

Quilge\Askin\Cang Oneshot - My Heart Only Belongs to You, Jealous Boy

Oooo, I never gotten a Cang Du before, I don't even know who that is, but a little research never kills anyone. I write for any character, I just need an anime or show and their full name and done.

Thank you, for sending in this request, I'll try and give this fic justice, hopefully, it's to your liking.

MASTER LIST | NSFW CONTENT

Quilge

Quilge is already a very possessive man, he doesn't like it when you're disobeying him, he'd prefer it if you were his good little soldier. But he's completely engulfed in rage and anger, at the sight of you laughing and chatting with those other lesser than soldiers. They aren't as strong as he was, they aren't as fast as he was, they weren't even as talented as him.

They were literally nobodies. His teeth gritted together, and his eyes locked onto your figure. He marched over toward where you were at. At the sight of him you stopped laughing and you gulped. He didn't exactly look so happy at the moment. The other soldiers noticed your sudden quietness and they looked to where you were looking at. They immediately straighten up at the sight of him.

He stopped in front of you all, and he observed you through his shades. He then reached forward, and he snatched you toward him, his grip was tight, and you winced a little at the force of it. He stared at you, almost begging for you to complain. You clamped your mouth shut and he seemed pleased with that. He then glared at the other soldiers.

"Drop and give me 150, I'll be back shortly, and when I do get back you better be on 100. If not, you'll be sorry." He said, before he turned on his heel, his grip tight on you as he dragged you along with him. You nearly stumbled a few times, trying to keep up with his fast strides. Eventually you both made it to your shared room. He pushed you in and he slammed the door shut.

You nearly tripped, but you were able to stable yourself, but your shoulders were gripped tightly, and you were whipped around, his grip on your shoulders where tight and you quietly whimpered from his grip. "You're not allowed near any of those simpletons, and I clear?" He said through clenched teeth. You looked up at him, your face twisted in pain, and you nodded. He stared at you a bit longer, those dark shades reflecting your face.

He then relaxed and his grip loosened some, his hands slid down your arms and they rested on your hands, he then sighed. You relaxed as well and then you smiled at him. "You have nothing to worry about, Qui, I'll always be yours, and you'll always be mine." You said, as you gripped his hands in your own. He returned the grip, before one of his hands slipped from yours and he cupped your cheek.

"Forever." He said, and you leaned into his hand, your free hand cupping his larger one on your cheek. "Forever and always, until the end of time."

Askin

Askin is a rather chill guy, he doesn't really care about much, but he did have an image to upkeep, and he refused to have you embarrassing him. He's a benevolent lover, and he lets you do what you wish most of the time. But he won't stand for another touching on you. His pride wouldn't allow that.

So seeing you play around with a few of the others made his blood boil in a way that it never has before. He walked calmly over toward you both, hands in his pockets as he approached. Your little game was interrupted when he stopped before you both. You both looked over at him, a smile on your faces. "Hey, Ask!! What's up!?" You excitedly asked, your adrenaline pumping.

He said nothing, his face was unreadable as he observed the other person, almost as if he was sizing them up. "Nothing much, just came looking for you, my love." He said, as his eyes pierced into the other persons eyes. Their shoulders tensed and they laughed nervously catching your attention. "Huh? What's up?" You asked them, they profusely apologized as the bowed over and over again, claiming that they had to cut your game short, they had errands to run.

You gave them a smiled and waved them off, and the moment you did, they ran for the hills. You stared at their retreating form for a while, Askin walked up next to you, watching them run away and around a corner. "Psh, good riddance." He said before he stalked off. You looked over at him, an accusing look upon your face. "Askin, did you make them run off?" You asked him in an annoyed tone. He continued to walk on, his head held high.

You marched after him, wanting answers. "HEY, I KNOW YOU HEAR ME UP THERE!!" You shouted as you stomped after him. He continued walking as he answered you. "Yeah, I did, but I don't care." He said in a nonchalant voice. You glared at the back of his head. "And why not? They were my friend and you made them run off." You said in an angered tone. He suddenly stopped and he whirled around. Your eyes widen in shock, his fingers gently holding your chin. "Because you're mine, and mine alone, I hate sharing." He spoke.

Your eyes danced over his face, your face warming up from a blush, he smirked satisfied, and he continued walking. You stared at him for a moment, calming your heart, before you raced after him. "HEY, THAT'S NO FAIR!!! GET BACK HERE!!" You shouted as you chased him down.

Cang

Cang is a pretty serious man, and he would've already warned you to not make him angry or jealous, or else you'll suffer his wrath, and he didn't want to hurt you. So, you'd pretty much stay inside or off to yourself most of the time, but you didn't expect this from the oh so serious Cang.

You were resting on the couch, you were sitting up, resting in the cool room, on your lap sat your pet, and your hand was slowly stroking their fur, your fingers going through it was comforting. You released a deep sigh, so ever content. By the doorway was Cang, half of his body was peaking around the door frame, as he glared daggers at the animal. He was muttering the same words over and over again.

"My thighs, my thighs, my thighs, my thighs, my thighs, my thighs, my thighs." It was quite sinister looking. The animal looked over its shoulder at Cang and it made eye contact with him, seeming to sense his bloodlust. He glared back at it and the animal seemed to smirk. A vein popped out on his cheek, and he bit his lip.

'Damn animal.' he cursed it in his mind. You were blissfully unaware of the small war that was being waged, and a shadow over came you. You opened your eyes, and you looked, seeing Cang's neural face. You smiled up at him. His brow twitched at your smile. 'Cute.' He thought, before he crawled on the couch, you watched him get comfortable, before he glared at the animal once more and it glared back.

They stared at each other a bit longer, before Cang pushed it off with a swift jab. "Oops." He said in a careless tone. The animal made a noise of surprise when it was pushed off, and you reacted out of reflex to catch it, but Cang dropped his head on your lap, and he wrapped his arms around your waist. "Ehch, Cang, move. I have to check on out pet, you just pushed it!!" You whined as you struggled to get him off, but he was too strong, and eventually you gave up.

You sighed in defeat, and you leaned back, you then looked down at him with a tired look, but then you smiled down at him and you ran your fingers through his hair. "You're so silly Cang, you're cute when you're jealous." You said, he grumbled but he said nothing as he pressed his face into your stomach. You chuckled as you continued to rub his hair and his back.

"My Jealous Boy."

MASTER LIST | NSFW CONTENT

[sock-ness-monster]

Excuse is granted. Please. I beg of you. Infodump away

Thank you so much I love telling people about this guy

So, to preface this, I'll be telling this story exactly how it was told to me by our camp counselor at a Caveing camp I went to, so it's very much an oral history that maybe can't be fact checked but the broad strokes are genuinely 100% true

TRIGGER WARNINGS: DEATH, DARKNESS, CLAUSTROPHOBIA, GRAVE DESECRATION, CRICKETS

Now that that's out of the way (and please mention if there's any other TW's I should add) the story of

Floyd Collins, The Man Who Was Buried Six Times

This story begins in Kentucky in 19very early, a young Floyd was plowing his family's field when he suddenly dropped through the ground and discovered an unknown cave system. Super cool! Now, people back then did not have television, keep in mind, so caves were really big deals and they were a brand new and lucrative tourist escapade. Floyd's family seized the idea and quickly made a little tourist attraction out of it and started raking in the dough. But they weren't the only ones who had a cave you could tour, Kentucky's geology is super unique in that it has tons of limestone and sandstone which is perfect for underground rivers to carve cool caves out of. They are everywhere in Kentucky and the surrounding area, there was a lot of competition for who had the best, the biggest, the longest cave. And Floyd and his brothers were seized by cave fever and were exploring all around looking for new tunnels and chambers. A large part of this business, unfortunately, was not just walking people through the caves but was letting them take home souvenirs. People could carve their names in the wall, take a stalagmite or stalactite or whatever cool rock they found. Destroying the sensitive ecosystem of the caves. Floyd, the cool dude that he was, was one of the only people who was against this at the time. Good for him! Salamanders are important!

Anyway, Floyd and his brothers are always on the lookout for new opportunities, and there were tons in that area. But, not all of them would pan out. Floyd had heard rumblings about a new cave system called Sand Cave that wasn't far from his family's original cave, which by now had been dubbed Crystal Cave. It didn't seem that promising to most, but Floyd was hoping it actually connected to Crystal cave, and they could tack on so many feet to how big their cave was. So he set off to see if he could find a connection.

He had been surveying the cave for a few hours, and decided to call it quits. He was crawling through a tight tunnel upwards toward the opening of the cave when a rock slide pinned his ankle down tight. He was laying flat with his hands reaching upwards, and there was no way for him to reach back behind him to free his ankle.

He had gone on this expedition without telling anyone.

This was the first time he got buried.

Three days pass, and his brother Homer finally finds him. He tries everything he can think of to free floyd, to no effect. Realizing that this may be a bigger endeavor than he can pull off, he crawls back out to go and find help. It is January of 1925, what else is there to do but go to the newspaper? They publish the story of the man trapped in a crawl way, and it's a huge hit!? People are fascinated by Floyds predicament. They want to help, they want to see, they want to know more. It even makes it on the radio! The three biggest news stories of the time were

1) the war (oof)

2)Charles Lindbergh (will come up again later)

And 3) Floyd in the hole

Everyone in America is anxious to find out how they rescue Floyd. "They" being everyone from the local cave experts to the military corps of engineers to the freakin freemasons, they're all trying to figure out how to free Floyd. Who, ya know, is just chillin in the cave, because caves stay at a constant temperature of ~54° , not too bad for January. His brothers and a reporter take turns crawling down to deliver him the three essentials; food, whiskey, and news. The reporter, "Skeets" Miller, would later win a Pulitzer Prize for his correspondence with floyd in the shaft. Now, as mentioned before, it is a cold and snowy January, but people (nearly 10,000 according to some reports) are so fascinated by the goings on at Sand Cave that they travel from far and wide to be there at the triumphant moment when Floyd emerges. Weeks have gone by at this point. Radio stations are reporting every day, Charles Lindbergh is hired to take photographs of the terrain from above. It's like a big party up top.

They camp out around the cave mouth.

They build fires for food and warmth.

The snow melts.

The cold water trickles down into the cave.

Floyd....... starts to cough.

The cave's already sketchy structure is further compromised.

There's another rock slide.

Floyd is now cut off from contact with the up side world, and the engineers panic and go with a last ditch effort they had been debating beforehand. They can't go around they can't go behind, the only path left was straight down. They drill a hole that reaches the 150 feet from daylight to Floyd's prison. They are too late. He was estimated to have died three to four days before they reached him. His leg is still stuck, and half his face has been consumed by cave crickets. And they just.....leave him there. Whatreyagonnado they shrug, he's already gone we can stop now. They fill in the shaft again.

This is the second time Floyd is buried.

Homer, his closest brother, can't accept this as his final resting place. A few weeks later, they un block the hole and carry Floyd to their family's funeral plot and have a small service with just his closest friends and family present.

This is the third time Floyd Collins is buried.

A few years go by, and the Collins family sells their farm and cave. Unfortunately, they did not see the part of the deed that entitled the new owners to everything in and under the property. Floyd's body is now legally theirs. He is exhumed and placed on display in a glass coffin in Crystal Cave (which years and years later would eventually be proven to connect to Sand Cave).

This is the fourth time Floyd is buried.

If you haven't pieced it together yet, caves were a pretty big deal. We now enter a time in Kentucky history known as the Cave Wars, and they are brutal. How brutal, you ask? Well, to answer with one scenario that happens to be related to this story, the owners of nearby cave were jealous of the attention Crystal Cave was getting from their cool exhibit of Floyd's body, against his family's wishes. Why, the only logical thing to do is steal the man's body and throw it off a cliff. Crystal Cave's new owners would recover it, though minus the left leg. And the next logical thing of course is to put him back on display but this time with a bunch more chains.

This is the fifth time Floyd Collins is buried.

Then, the 60s roll around and Crystal Cave and Floyd are purchased by the National Parks Service on the grounds of being connected to the Mammoth Cave System (the longest cave system in the entire world now). Floyds family is still fighting for his body, and in the 80s they finally get their wish. Floyd is removed from the cave in a 15 day trip and buried at a real cemetery again.

This, is the sixth time he is buried.

A pillar is constructed in honor and perhaps in reparations to all he's gone through, but it is struck by a semi truck and demolished less than a week after its unveiling.

Floyd.......went through a lot. All he ever wanted to do was see some cool rocks and support his family. And to this day, cavers do their best to do right by him. When entering Mammoth Cave, they often ask the darkness to look after them. They aren't talking to the darkness, of course, that darkness that can never be described properly. They are talking to Floyd. Asking him to watch over them as they wish he had someone to watch over him. In the caves everyone is above you, but that's not what they mean. And when they hear a whistle through the tunnels, they like to imagine it's Floyd. Floyd, who was right. The cave was so much more than people thought, in so many different ways. To this day, there's a saying in the caveing community.

"Floyd Lives"

It's like the geology version of "Eddie Would Go". As long as we carry on his legacy of exploring bravely, daring to go where noone has gone before, and do our best to preserve the natural beauty and habitat of the caves, floyd will live on. Floyd lives in our memories and hearts and the drips of water that will one day be pillars.

I don't really know how to end this. Here's a picture of the man himself;

(the picture above is not the tunnel he was trapped in, to be clear)

[watchyourbluesturngolden]

the exact opposite of weak

This is a story entirely based on my experience with a chronic illness. Everyone’s experience is different, and everyone’s experience is valid. 

Here is the link to the Cleveland Clinic’s page about POTS, just in case you want some more information :)

also yes, there is another mention of grey’s anatomy in this, there will probably be lots more, because that show is one of two things keeping me alive rn, I think you can guess who the other one is

word count: 1.3k

warnings: fainting and chronic illness

in your opinion, POTS is the worst chronic illness. Of course, you may be biased. Especially since it happens to be the one you suffer from. But really, it is pretty bad. 

You were one of the luckier ones who could still live a mostly normal life. You had been diagnosed when you were still a teenager, so you'd mostly figured out how to deal with it.

For you, it caused headaches, stomach pain, rapid heart rate, poor circulation, and heat intolerance (meaning you couldn't have too hot of a shower without your heart feeling like it was going to jump out of your chest).

Despite all this, you hadn't told Harry yet. You kept your symptoms under control well with a few medications and a lot of self care. You didn't want to burden him or make him think you were weak. So, you just didn't tell him. The longer your relationship went on, the more you worried about what you would say and how he would react.

You had been together for just over a year when you decided to tell him. You just felt bad keeping it from him any longer, so you made up your mind. Now all you had to do was figure out how. How were you supposed to tell the love of your life that you had a chronic illness you had just neglected to tell him about?

The opportunity arose sooner than you expected. It was the middle of winter, so you didn't have the summer heat to worry about. You did, however, have the shower to worry about. Since your circulation wasn't great, you always had freezing feet and hands. On days like this where you were just chilled to the bone, you wanted nothing more than to turn the water as hot as you could stand and bask in the steam.

So, you did just that. You stepped into the burning hot water, sighing as it washed over your cold limbs.

You noticed how bad you felt pretty quickly. Your head spun and you were overcome with nausea when you reached up to grab the shampoo. You quickly leaned against the wall, the cool tile soothing your skin. Soon you were shivering again, so you stepped back into the stream. After a few minutes, you started to feel worse. You turned the temperature cooler, but it didn't seem to help. Black spots started to cloud your vision like they did every time you stood up. You knew this was a bad sign.

You could feel your heart smashing against your ribcage and put a finger against your neck. Your pulse was so fast you could barely count it. It was getting harder to breathe as your heart seemed to speed up, even after you stepped out from under the water.

You stepped out of the shower, promptly laying on the floor with your legs propped up against the vanity. You pulled a towel over you before calling for Harry.

You heard his quick footsteps in the hall before he knocked.

"Y/N? Are you ok? did you forget a towel?"

"No- can you come in here?"

Harry opened the door, peeking his head inside. His brow furrowed when he saw you laying on the floor, legs up on the sink, with your fingers on your neck.

"Uh... what're we doing?"

His confusion was obvious, but he wasted no time getting down on the floor and laying next to you.

"Everything... everything alright?"

  "Can I see your watch?"

"Uh, sure," Harry said, sticking out his arm to you.

You grabbed his arm, focusing your eyes on the second hand ticking around. After a minute, you dropped his arm, sucking in a deep breath.

"Y/N,  what's... what're you doing? Are you ok?"

"I'm fine, my heart is just beating really fast and I don't feel well at all," you said, closing your eyes.

"How fast is really fast?" He asked, reaching over to feel your wrist. "Woah, you meant, like, really fast," his eyes widened as he counted her pulse.

"Y/N, your heart rate is over 200. I'm not a doctor, but you've made me watch enough Grey's Anatomy to know that's not good," He said eyeing you nervously.

  "No, it's ok, I just had the shower water too hot," You reassured him, keeping your eyes closed.

"Uh, again, not a doctor, but I don't think hot water is supposed to make your heart beat this fast."  

Oh boy. Here it was. Time for you to explain.

"Maybe not for most people, Harry, but for me, it's-" You tried to move your legs and sit up, but as soon as you did, your vision started going dark.

"Nope, back down, can't do that yet," You sighed, sinking back down.

He laid back down beside you, his fingers still on your wrist. After a few more minutes, you finally felt like you could get up.

Harry stood first, holding out his hand to help you. You got to your feet and instantly knew it was a mistake. Harry looked at your glassy eyes with concern before you went limp. He let out a surprised sound, catching you and lowering you back to the floor.

Your towel had nearly slipped off, so he readjusted it to keep you covered. Then he just sat there with your head in his lap, stroking your hair and watching the seconds tick by on his watch. After a few minutes, he started to get worried. He patted your cheek gently.

"Y/N, wake up," he spoke softly, still cushioning your head.

Your eyes snapped open and you tried to sit up. Harry held his hand on your shoulder, keeping you down.

"Woah, don't try and move yet. You scared me there," He said, smiling.

You looked up at him, then around at the bathroom. You closed your eyes, sighing again.

"I passed out, didn't I. Did I hit my head?"

"Of course not, I have excellent reflexes," Harry scoffed, pretending to be offended.

"Right, sorry," you laughed. "Sorry I scared you, that doesn't happen very often anymore."

"What do you mean, anymore?" Harry asked, confused.

"Ok, here it goes," You mumbled under your breath. "So... I have this condition, it's called POTS. That stands for postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome."

You could see the gears turning in Harry's head, trying to figure out what this meant.

"So, when you stand...?"

"My heart rate increases a lot, yeah. A lot more than it's supposed to. It's been better for a long time since I found the right medicine, but I still have bad days. The other day when I got up from the couch, remember how I almost fell? Yeah, this is why. I told you I just tripped, but I checked my pulse when I got to the kitchen and it was at 150. When it goes up that fast, it makes my vision black out and I feel like I'm about to faint."

"Does it happen every time you shower?"

"No, but it does get a lot worse with hot water. POTS causes poor circulation, and a whole bunch of other things, but anyway that's why my feet are always freezing. I like hot showers because I'm usually cold, but they make me feel terrible. I just must've had it a little too hot today, which is why... we're... sitting on the floor right now," You said, blushing and looking away from him.

"Hey," Harry said gently. "it's nothing to be embarrassed about, Y/N. I just wish you'd told me."

Y/N tried to sit up again, but Harry's hand was still pressed against her shoulder. "I swear, this time I'm ok," She smiled.

Harry eyed her suspiciously before helping her sir up against the wall.

"I know, I should have told you. I just didn't want you to think I was... weak or something," Y/N said, looking at her lap.

"Weak? Y/N, you just told me your heart tries to kill you every time you stand or take a hot shower, and that’s just your  everyday life. That's kind of... the exact opposite of weak, I'd say."

"Well, it definitely doesn't try to kill me," You laughed. "But yeah, I guess I am pretty strong for dealing with this, huh?"

"Absolutely, you are," He smiled. "Now, tell me everything about this, so I can know how to make you feel better."  

[louiseleblancdiggory]

okay but what about a 'The Way I Loved You' by TS Au for Rowaelin with Punk!Rowan?? pretty please??

A/N: The way I rushed to post this. I have a bunch of fanfics to write before October is over, and now that I’m finally not sick anymore, I’ve been trying to rush and write them but this prompt.....

The Way I Loved You

--

“So I’ll pick you up at seven, right?”

Aelin smiled, nodding. “Yeah, seven is perfect.”

Chaol smiled back, putting a hand on her back as he bent down to kiss her. Even though she knew she shouldn’t, Aelin tensed slightly. She had been dating Chaol for three months now, and it wasn’t that kissing him made her uncomfortable, it was just different.

For two and a half years, she had been used to kissing a different guy.

A guy she could feel the stare at the back of her head.

Chaol withdrew, still smiling at her. Aelin forced a smile to appear on her lips, giving him a quick peck on the lips before taking a step back. She needed to go to her class, and even though she didn’t let herself turn around to confirm, she knew Rowan was still staring at her.

Part of her could understand the staring. They had broken up four months ago, and Aelin rushed to find someone new. Not to throw it at his face that she could, but just because she had felt so fucking bad at the end of their relationship, that she figured that the best cure was to jump right back at another one. It kinda worked most of the time. The other part of her, the part that felt like the solution wasn’t working out perfectly, wished he would just start ignoring her existence. Would stop looking at her, being in the same room that she was.

Preferably, stop being in the same continent that she was.

As she left the senior lounge— pointedly not looking back— she let her mind wander to months and months back when all this tension didn’t exist. Aelin had known Rowan since forever. He had been at her class from elementary school until high school, and she knew that they were also going to the same college when they graduated in two months. Until sophomore year of high school, though, Aelin had never exchanged more than three words with him. They had been different at everything their entire lives, and so both never showed any interest in having a single conversation with one another. In elementary school, while Aelin focused on the art classes, Rowan only ever showed a human reaction during music class. In middle school while she was part of every single club she could find, Rowan had been too busy avoiding every club that could find him. In high school, while Aelin dedicated her life to her grades, being cheer captain and part of the volleyball team, Rowan simply worked towards paying off his motorcycle, working at Lorcan’s dad’s mechanic shop, and almost getting arrested every now and then.

Honestly, it had been a miracle that they even knew about each other’s existence.

The only reason they actually met was because of Chemistry. Aelin had absolute no interest in the subject, but since her mother had been bothering her to take it, she relented during her second year of high school. As she had chosen to take it in advanced placement, they had a whole period of the normal class plus the addition of half a period of laboratory. To her chagrin at the time, she got paired up for the labs with the single person in the whole class she wasn’t friends with.

Rowan fucking Whitethorn.

She found some comfort in realizing that he was just as excited to work with her as she was to work with him, but since he was always polite during the labs, she didn’t find a reason to dislike him. He was coldly neutral, and, surprisingly, a fucking genius. If it hadn’t been for him, Aelin would have bombed every single lab, quiz and test they had in that godforsaken class.

Despite both of their reputations, Aelin found out that she had more in common with him than it looked, and that she also liked him a lot more than she would have ever thought. When comfortable around people, he was actually pretty chill and funny. One of the biggest things that made her befriend him, though, was the fact that he didn’t fucking care about anything that didn’t concern him. Rumors? He was too busy for that. Reputations? Nope. Social status? Couldn’t care less.

While so many people in the school saw her as an athletic bimbo, Rowan met her with absolute 0 preconceptions because he never fucking cared about them. Since the beginning, he met Aelin for who she really was, and not the person everyone at the school had a different perception of.

Maybe this was one of the reasons she fell so deeply in love with him.

Things had been normalish. They didn’t know about each other, they met, became friends and then started dating. Nothing too out of the ordinary.

The dating though.

Dating Rowan had been… wild. Not in the bad sense, no. It had been like a roller-coaster all the time. Like driving down an empty highway at 150 per hour, windows open, and screaming your lungs out. It had been fun, and it had made her feel so alive that she could still feel it when she closed her eyes. It had made her blood boil, every single nerve jump. And yet, at the same time, being with him never made her feel so calm, so comfortable. Rowan was what shook her world, but also what made her feel steady.

Loving Rowan Whitethorn had been the biggest adventure of her life.

Their relationship had been the perfect mixture of actual love and burning passion.

The passion was sometimes almost blinding, and it made her do things she would have never though she’d have the courage to do. Rowan encouraged her to push her limits— always safely, he’d make sure of that—, and Aelin enjoyed her life to the maximum. They went on a trip across the east coast on his motorcycle during the summer, went bungee jumping at the neighboring state to celebrate his birthday, and skydiving to celebrate hers. Aelin had asked her dad once, at two in the morning, to take her to the police station to bail Rowan out after he punched someone hard enough to make the other guy black out. The fact Aelin’s dad hadn’t killed her and Rowan after it had been a miracle.

The love, though, the love was her favorite part. Loving Rowan was so easy and so different from what she thought loving someone would be. She always thought that love was that blinding emotion, that easy thing that made you burn from inside out, but no. That was passion, and while it was good, love was… more. Loving him had been like sitting at a beach in the end of the afternoon, the wind on her face and the disappearing sun still warming your skin. Loving hadn’t make her feel like combusting, it had made her feel like home. It wasn’t always easy to be in love all the time, but she also found out that the hardships made part of loving.

Love, she learned, was choosing someone every day, the good and the bad, even when you didn’t feel like it. Love wasn’t always perfect, but it was always worth it.

But they fought. Oh, they fought a lot. Despite Rowan’s careless behavior, he was just as stubborn as she was. Their fights had always been filled with screaming, always making her blood boil in a different way. Even when fighting with him, Aelin had never felt more alive. In the end, however, most of their fights were stupid. They never fought about serious shit, and the screaming matches were usually about fucking nothing. They both had been too stubborn to see this, too stubborn to admit that both were usually wrong

The denial was what broke everything.

Aelin didn’t think Rowan would actually think they were breaking up. It was another one of their stupid screaming matches, and Aelin blurted out the first thing that came to her mind. She had been too proud to say she didn’t mean it, and so things ended because of nothing.

She could still see the whole scene. Could still see Rowan going still, narrowing his eyes and then shrugging as if it was nothing. Could still see him leaving. Could still hear her heart breaking. She knew since that instant that she should have gone after him.

She didn’t. He should have known.

And now he would be staring at her every now and then, would be like a fucking buzzard over her life.

“Hello, Earth to Aelin.” She felt a hand on her shoulder, a hand snapping its fingers in front of her face. She snapped back to reality, raising her head to stare at her cousin’s face. Her best friend, Lysandra, was by his side, staring at her with as much concern as Aedion was. “You ok?”

Aelin shook away from his grip, forcing a smile to her lips. “Never been better.”

————

Aelin waved Chaol goodbye, waiting until his car left her driveway to get inside the house.

She sighed, dropping her shoes down as she walked quietly to the kitchen. It was almost two in the morning, and she didn’t want to wake her parents.

Despite her efforts to keep quiet, she couldn’t help the scream that left her mouth when she turned on one of the kitchen lights and saw her father sitting there.

She put a hand to her chest, trying to calm her racing heart. “What the hell?”

“Was that necessary?” Rhoe asked, a smirk on his face.

Aelin scowled. “Why are you sitting in the dark?”

“Makes it all more dramatic.” Her dad shrugged, and Aelin rolled her eyes. She walked to one of the cabinets, taking out a bottle of water. “Aelin.”

She turned at her father’s tone, frowning when she saw his expression. “You’re the one that said no curfew.”

Rhoe shook his head, patting the seat by his side. “Come here, firefly.”

Aelin set the bottle down, cautiously sitting by her father’s side. He had a strange expression on his face, body somewhat tense. “What happened?”

“You like Chaol?”

Aelin frowned at the question, scoffing a little. “Yeah, he’s my boyfriend.”

“You used to have a different boyfriend.” Her dad said, and Aelin understood what the conversation was about.

“Seriously, dad?” She went on the defensive immediately, crossing her arms. “That was months ago. And I thought you didn’t even like Rowan.”

Rhoe actually laughed, a serene smile on his face. “Nah, I actually liked the kid. Despite the motorcycle, the black clothes, constant scowl, and the criminal record, he was a nice guy. And he made you happy. What else a father could wish?”

“Someone who doesn’t have a criminal record?”

Rhoe shrugged. “It’s not like I didn’t agree with him that time I had to take you to bail him out. Some guy harassed Lysandra, Rowan punched them.”

“You sound almost appreciative.” Aelin said, still on the defensive even though a small part of her smiled internally.

Rhoe smiled knowingly. “I am.”

Aelin scoffed, but didn’t say nothing in return. Her father let her gather her thoughts, and both sat in silence for a few minutes before Aelin said quietly. “Chaol is a nice guy.”

Her dad nodded. “He is.”

“He seems easy to love.”

Rhoe got up, pressing a kiss to his daughter’s hair. “No one is easy to love, firefly. That’s one of the main points of loving. We value it so much because it is hard to find, because it is hard to keep.” Aelin raised her head to look at her dad, and he smiled at her. “I’m not telling you what to do. You’re grown enough to take your own decisions. I’m also not telling you to go to a bad relationship, not in the slightest. If I thought something was harmful to you, I’d be the first intervening. But have in mind that people fight sometimes. Gods, me and your mother when we were younger? Like fucking cat and dog.”

Aelin huffed a laugh, vaguely remembering the stories her parents told her.

“But,” Rhoe continued. “It gets better with time, and I think you know that. You get more mature, learn to admit when you’re wrong. I remember when you and Rowan were younger and fought about everything, and yet it got better and better with time. The two of you barely argued during the last year.”

“I know.” Aelin whispered, resting her face against her father’s chest. He hugged her, rubbing her back like he used to when she was younger. She knew that he was right. Despite the fact that she argued a lot with Rowan, Aelin also knew that it had gotten much better. They fought less, and the reason of the arguments never got worse. It was usually childish and they’d laugh about it in the following morning. “I didn’t mean to actually break up with him. I never though he’d think I would break up with him over something so stupid.”

Even though she was whispering, Rhoe heard her. “I know.”

“And I should have told him that.”

“Yes, you should have.”

“I was wrong.”

“You were.”

“I’m not going back to him, though.” Aelin said, some stubbornness still in her. Rowan had absolutely left that day, and didn’t give her the chance to explain afterwards. They were apart for her fault, yes, but he wasn’t the saint in all this.

Rhoe groaned. “Really, Ace?”

Aelin crossed her arms. “He was very comfortable with the breakup. Why should I bother?”

“This whole conversation was for nothing?” Her dad crossed his arms, shaking his head.

“Not for nothing. I know now that I need to stop things with Chaol. I shouldn’t have even started dating him if I wasn’t going to commit completely.” Aelin raised her head to look at her dad. “Gosh, I’m a terrible person.”

“No, you’re young. Young people fuck up sometimes.” Rhoe kissed her head one more time before he started to walk out of the kitchen. He didn’t try to bring up going back to Rowan again, knowing that it would only make her more keen on not doing so. “But now that you recognize this, I hope you fix it. I didn’t raise you to be a liar, let that be by lying to others or to yourself.”

“Gods, you could have ended this conversation a little more lightly.”

Rhoe turned his face around, smiling at her. “Fix it, firefly.”

————

“Aelin? What happened? I left you at your house twenty minutes ago.” Chaol said, rubbing his eyes. He obviously was going to sleep already, and Aelin felt bad about doing this in the middle of the night but she had to get everything done already.

“I can’t do this.” She blurted out, an apologetic look on her face. “I’m so sorry.”

“What?”

“This. Us.” She signaled in between them. “I juts can’t.”

Chaol took a step forward, a frown on his face. “We’re going too fast? I can go in whatever pace you want but—“

“I know this is gonna sound like a shit excuse but it’s really not you, it’s me.” She said, cringing. It was terrible that she used the oldest breaking up method in the book, but it was true.

“Really, Aelin?” He crossed his arms, face morphing into anger. “This bullshit excuse?”

“I understand you’re mad, but I’m really, really sorry. I don’t want to lead you on, and you’re so nice and deserves someone who is completely willing to make the relationship work.” Aelin said pleadingly. “It’s not anything you did or didn’t do, I’m just—“

She wanted to feel as if her heart was breaking, but not even that. Instead, she was feeling relieved. The feeling angered her to no end. She should have been able to fall in love with a perfectly nice and calm guy, but Rowan’s presence had become like a ghost in her life and not even that was possible anymore.

“Not interested.” He finished, voice full of scorn. “If I’m oh so nice, why are you breaking up with me?”

“I—“ Aelin hesitated, not wanting to even mention Rowan. “I just can’t. I can’t be with you.”

“With me specifically.” Chaol said, grounding his jaw. After a second of silence, he let out an incredulous laugh. “Oh, I should have expected that. I’m the very nice guy, and yet you prefer the fucking asshole that Whitethorn is.”

Aelin felt a pang of anger. Of course Cahol would think that. “I’m really sorry. You are a nice guy, it’s really nothing with you.”

“Why don’t you just leave?” Chaol said, already closing the door. “And stay away from me.”

Aelin had the feeling that he didn’t want to hear to any more excuses, and so she just gave him another apologetic look before turning around and going back to her car.

Although breaking up with Chaol had been bad, she knew it wasn’t gonna be the worst part of her night because at that moment, Aelin was pissed enough to want to pick a fight.

And she knew exactly who she was going to pick it with.

As she drove to the apartment Rowan shared with Lorcan and his dad, Aelin went over and over what she was going to say when she got there. Knowing both her personality and Rowan’s, she knew that things would go south very quickly.

Her hands were sweating as she went up the stairs of the four stories building, fingers flexing over and over again as she gathered courage to knock on the door.

Part to her relief, part to her disappointment, no one answered. She knocked again. And again. And again.

On the sixth knock, the door opened violently, and Aelin found herself staring up at Lorcan Salvaterre.

His pissed off face quickly morphed into confusion, and he crossed his arms, leaning against the door frame. “Bimbo?”

Even being all pissed, Aelin rolled her eyes. Lorcan hadn’t like her in the beginning, but now both were actually close friends. Breaking up with Rowan made them separate a little, but good to know that he still liked her enough to use that stupid nickname. “Bully boy.”

Lorcan scoffed. “What have I done to deserve such visit at two in the morning?”

“Where’s Rowan?”

Lorcan tried to contain a smirk. “Why should I tell you?”

“Cause I’m your friend.”

“Nah, not good enough.” He said, letting the smirk appear. Aelin let out a breath, crossing her arms impatiently. “What do you want with him?”

“To talk.”

“You mean scream.”

“To talk.”

“About?”

“Stuff.”

Lorcan’s sarcastic smirk was widening more and more. “What stuff?”

“You’re fucking insufferable. Where’s Rowan?”

Lorcan let out a half cruel laugh. “ Don’t spew fire, baby. He’s in the shop, moping around while you go out with your jock boyfriend.”

Aelin rolled her eyes. “Thanks, could have said that a minute ago.”

“Nah.” Lorcan said, already closing the door. “Fix this mess. Rowan already has a shit mood, and it has only been worse for three months now.”

“You’re one to talk about bad mood.”

“Fuck off, Galathynius.” Lorcan said through the closed door, but Aelin was already rushing down the steps. The mechanic shop was by the end of the street, and she almost ran there.

The storefront was all dark, but the garage door was slightly open, light filtering through the opening. Without further thinking, Aelin crouched, entering through the opened bottom.

“Rowan.” Aelin said, crossing her arms.

Rowan immediately whipped his head around to look at her, eyes narrowing when he noticed her expression. “Why do I feel like you think I did something wrong?”

Despite all the planning, Aelin’s mind was blank. It was the first time she spoke to him in months. “I hate that we dated.”

Rowan let out a laugh, resting against the hood of a car. “You came all the way here, at two in the morning, to tell me that? The dedication is on point, Ace. But shouldn’t you have someone else to talk?”

Oh, he was jealous. Aelin could feel it in his voice. “You’re an idiot.”

“I’m the idiot?” Rowan crossed his arms. “If so, you should really get back to Prince Charming.”

“He’s nice.” Aelin said for some reason. When Rowan raised his eyebrows in mocked interest, she felt her blood boiling. It was because of this fucking asshole she couldn’t date anyone else. “He’s sensible and incredible.”

“Oh, I’m sure he is. All your single friends must be swooning over your relationship.” Although he was smiling, Aelin didn’t think he was finding any of that funny.

“And he calls me when he says he will. My mom thinks he’s nice, and today when he came to pick me up, he even talked to dad about business.”

“Really? I’m sure Rhoe and Evalin adore him.”

“He respects my space and limits, never asks me to wait. I, comfortable and I literally couldn’t ask for anything better.” The last lie tasted bitter on her tongue, but she didn’t take anything back.

“Wow, that sounds... fucking boring.” Rowan said, simply and with a smile. “And I bet anything you want that you’re fucking bored.”

“Fuck off, Rowan.”

“No, you fuck off, Aelin.” Rowan said, getting up. “You break up with me, you move on, you come here. And for fucking what?”

“You seemed very content in me breaking up with you, so don’t play the high moral ground card.” She replied defensively. “You wanna know what I just did, Rowan? I broke up with my amazingly normal boyfriend because of you.”

Rowan raised his eyebrows, letting out a laugh. “Can’t say I’m sorry.”

“Fuck you!”

“The girl I have loved for years just came here to tell me she broke up with her boyfriend because she still likes me. I’m so very sorry if I’m not currently crying.”

“You left.” Aelin screamed, and Rowan’s smile disappeared. She pointed a finger at him, taking a step forward. “You fucking left me after the stupidest fight we ever had. You fucking shrugged as if dating me wasn’t that important and you. Fucking. Left.”

“You broke up with me, Aelin. What the hell was I supposed to do?” Rowan spread his arms, shouting back at her.

“I don’t fucking know, but you could have showed any emotion that didn’t seem like satisfaction. You could have picked up my calls the following day, and the day after that, and the day after that. Could have asked me if I was serious when I shouted something stupid during a stupid argument.” Aelin’s voice was normal again. “And then Chaol comes and you’re right. I’m fucking bored. He opens the door for me, says all the right things and I’m fucking bored. Even when I feel perfectly fine, I’m fucking bored. I’m bored because I’m hung up over a guy who fucking shrugged when I broke a relationship of years. You shrugged, left and ignored me for days. So you don’t get to be happy about all this.”

“Aelin—“

“No. No, I’m talking now because you didn’t let me do it. I loved you so fucking much and you knew it. Loving you was a goddamn roller coaster and you knew I enjoyed it. And that’s the whole point. You knew the way I loved you and you didn’t let me explain. You knew it and you left, and then ignored me. I’m not saying this is your fault. It’s mine. I shouldn’t have screamed that I wanted to break up with you because I fucking didn’t, ok? I was fucking wrong, and we’re apart because of me. All I wanted was the chance to apologize. So now that you’re finally listening to me, you’re gonna let me apologize like it was the following morning.”

Aelin felt her heart beating fast, and when Rowan just stared at her in silence, she continued.

“I am so sorry I broke up with you. Of course I don’t mean it, and you’re acting like an idiot if you think I was for real. An absolute idiot because you should know I love you. You should know that I’d never break up with you over that. I’m so sorry that I even said that. I shouldn’t have, I let my temper get the best of me and shouted the first hurtful thing that came to my mind.” Aelin breathed in and out, trying to make her heart beat normally. “I’m sorry I even made you believe for a second I was for real. I never wanted to hurt you, and even though I hate the way you left, I understand. Please, please, forgive me and let’s go back to our normal.”

“Ace…”

“That was all I wanted to tell you when I called you a million times, Ro.” Aelin felt her throat twisting, the feeling of missing him for months hitting her straight to the chest. She knew she had been the wrong one in the situation, and even though she despised the way he left, Aelin knew Rowan enough to know that it was just a defense mechanism. “I didn’t even need you to accept me back, I just needed you to know that I was sorry and that I loved you. But you left and acted like everything was fine.”

“I’m sorry, Ace, I—“

“Gods, no. I don’t want you to apologize!” Aelin shook her head. Part of her wanted to hear it, the part that had been infuriated when ignored. The other part, however, the bigger part, didn’t want any apology. “I want you to accept the apology. And if you can’t do it, just say it and let me move on with my fucking life. Because if you can’t and this is it, I’ll have to move on with my fucking life. And I won’t bother you anymore.”

The whole room was silent, and Aelin was staring at Rowan as intently as he was staring right back at her. She could feel her heart beating, not fast anymore but so strongly she could hear it. Her palms were sweaty and, despite the fact that she hadn’t looked for Rowan with that intent in mind, she was hoping he’d accept the apology. That they’d talk and go back to being a normal fucking couple. A couple that no one really understood how it worked— Aelin being cheer captain, in the volleyball team, and every single club she’d find while Rowan was one step away from biting someone’s arm off if they talked to him.

“I was hurt.” Rowan started.

“I know.”

“And angry. And I wasn’t thinking.”

Aelin nodded hope and fear mixing inside her chest. “I guessed.”

“For two years I was waiting for the day you decided to break up with him after you realized I just wasn’t it.”

Aelin frowned, confusion clouding her mind. “What?”

“Oh, come on, Ace.” Rowan scoffed. “We both know you can do better.”

Aelin crossed her arms, eye narrowing. “No.”

“That’s a shit response.”

“Why the fuck do you mean by do better? Dating is not a sport or subject, Ro.”

“Don’t play dumb.”

“I mean it, tho. There’s no doing better. I love you and it is what it is. Nowhere to improve, you’re the maximum for me already.”

Rowan stared at her in silence, and Aelin wanted to say something else, wanted to maybe hug him. But he hadn’t said everything was fine, so she didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. She hadn’t been lying, though. She never imagined there could be anyone better for her, Rowan was just… perfect. What she not only wanted, but also needed. He had never been a missing part of her, but always someone who added up to who she already was.

“I’m sorry I didn’t let you explain.” Rowan said quietly.

“I said I didn’t want an apology.”

Rowan nodded, taking a hesitant step forward. “I love you. Have for years, you know that.”

Aelin nodded, face neutral even though she could feel her whole body relaxing. Worry slowly left her veins, relief and happiness substituting it. “And I love you too. Have for years, you know that.”

Rowan walked slowly up to her, hesitating again before raising his hands to cup her face. Aelin almost sighed in relief. “I should have listened to you.”

Aelin nodded, hope washing her whole expression. “So we’re fine? You forgive me, and we’re like before?”

Rowan bushed his thumb against her cheek, a small smile on his lips. “Yeah, we’re fine and there’s nothing to forgive.”

Aelin felt her chest bursting when he said that. She threw her arms around his shoulders, standing on her tiptoes to press her lips against his. Kissing Rowan after months was like coming back home, his warm and soft lips moving against her almost hungrily. Aelin opened her mouth, letting Rowan deepen the kiss as she hugged him more tightly. Rowan’s hands hugged Aelin by her waist, pressing her body against his as his mouth moved gently and yet hurriedly against hers.

Against his mouth, Aelin half sighed, half moaned in sheer happiness. 

Tags:

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jlinez @courtofjurdan @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ladywitchling @lexflame @sleeping-and-books @annejulianneh111 @perseusannabeth @linshryver @mu-si-ca-l @camilamartinezdunne @dank-queen7 @minaidss @starborn-faerie-queen @booksofthemoon @loveofbooksandwine @jesstargaryenqueen @bluejaberry @multifandommessblog @yesdreamblog @superspiritfestival @ireallyshouldsleeprn @woollycat22 @julemmaes @claralady @abookishfreak @faerie-queen-fireheart @maastrash @morganofthewildfire @queen-of-glass @heirofthenightcourt @booksbqueen @heirofthrnightcourt004

[annaofthenorthernlights]

It´s your life

Chapter 3

New world

Kristanna Modern AU

Rating: G

Word counting: 2228

Previous chapters (on AO3)

Note:

I´ve been to Disneyland Paris (Europe) before. Please forgive if there are inadequacies about the resort in CA.

Along this chapter I figured this fanfic takes place around spring 2014. Why? You´ll see…😊

Another note at the end of the chapter.

“You didn´t!”

Anna shrieked with excitement when they turned around the corner, entering the Western-Town-Alley. The imitation of the pioneer-aera town would catapult their guests into the time of cowboys and saloon girls roaming the street. So, the saloon would make the breakfast room, while bank building contained the tourist-information, informing all guests about major events, tickets selling of all sorts and providing material for the trip along the parc. Along the alley there stood little buildings as accommodations from single up to family rooms. At the end of the road there was the “great Casino”, the dining hall. That´s where they would eat shortly, so there was not that much time of wandering about.

The room was clearly expanding the feeling of being thrown back in time. It was situated further down the “towns street”, which was great. Because then one would need to walk all the way along the buildings and exploring the “western flair”.

Anna gnawed on her lower lip as she plunged herself on the wood framed bed, bouncing on the mattress to check its sound and feeling. Okay, it was sturdy, because there was no sound of a squeaky slatted frame.

Kristoff had put down their bags and looked at her amused, sitting down next to her. “You like it?”

“Are you kidding me? I love it. This is so great. Thank you so much considering this type of accommodation.” With that, she perked a kiss to his cheek, laughing and glancing around their nest. It was a simple room, but with a lovely charm to the details of interior and decoration. Nothing fancy, all wooden furniture and a woolen knotted carpet in front of the bed. Not much more. Th bathroom was modern of course, but simple in style, too.

“Glad you do.” Kristoff smiled and lay back for a moment. “I´m still sorry, I can´t give you the exquisite room in the princess hotel… But to be honest, I like it in here quite the more…”

“Stop that!” Anna scolded. “It´s really great, I love it. And I love it even the more, because you do this all for me.” She leaned over and cuddled against his side. Then, she pushed up on her elbow, looking around one more time.

“You know what? This reminds me so much of a story I have recently read on an internet blog site. It´s not a real story, well you know it´s a so-called fanfiction – a story about a story…Never mind, it´s called “Where the world is in the making”, taking place about 150 years ago, pioneer-aera. A young girl from the east coast travels west to marry a young homesteader by advertisement. It´s a hard life but they gradually and slowly start falling in love with each other, without realizing it of course… It´s so romantic and tragic all in one.” Anna laid back into her man´s embrace and sighed. It was good to know, they wouldn´t have to go over to some creek to get some washing…

Kristoff had listened. He was not the reader, but he liked listening to her story telling. He had heard of it before, of women traveling far to get married to some advertising men in the west. That was so crazy. But it was a different time and apparently it had worked. Somehow. Maybe. Who really knew today what they had lived like?

*******

Their table at the Casino restaurant was situated by the window and they had the perfect view onto the street. Anna sat beaming, and glancing around the place in disbelief. She could hardly take it all in, the moment was to blissful to her. She pulled up her shoulders and pressed her lips together.

“I can´t believe we´re sitting here. This is… wonderful. Thank you so much!” She reached over and Kristoff responded by squeezing her hand, smiling. “You´re welcome. Glad you enjoy yourself so immensely.”

A young woman stepped up to their table and pulled them out of their stare. She smiled so naturally and handed the menu. “Hi. I´m Honeymaren and I will be your server tonight. What can I bring you for drinks?”

When the server had left with their orders, Anna leaned back in her chair and tilted her head in thought.

“A penny for your mind.” Kristoff leaned back himself.

“Hm. I was thinking.” Anna fiddled with her fingers. “About that story, that I´ve told you just before. Those times must have been harsh and dangerous, too. I wonder how brave people back then must have been. I mean, they have left their former homes, pursuing a dream to find a golden future in the western realms. They have built new homes, towns, and established communities. Okay I´m not going into the dark chapter of forcing whole folks to move and leaving their land of ancestors. That was the bad history… But they had literally formed a “new world”. Like in that story I read, it was in the making. Are we still “in the making”, or is it all done and settled?”

“That´s a good question. I think we should never be “done” and stop dreaming of a better world. Otherwise, we get lazy and inattentive. That´s dangerous.”

That moment, Honeymaren appeared with their drinks and was ready to get their meal order taken. While Kristoff and Anna still take a quick moment to gaze into their menu cards, the young woman looks back and forth between them, curling her lips. When she´d taken their wishes, she smiled, thanked, and disappeared. Once behind the bar, she hurried to the phone and started to dial a number. “Mathias! Hi. Honeymaren here…”

“I hope Elsa is alright.” Anna bites her lips and looks genuinely concerned. “I mean, it was not nice of me to cut her off like that. It´s not her fault, our family is in that business. Now, she had to deal with excusing me in some way. But then, the time would never be right for this, no?”

“No. It´s not. Whenever you would want to decide for yourself, you´d be the “troublemaker”. But Anna. Again, no matter what happens, I will be there for you. Not telling you what to do, but to support you. Okay?”

Now, her smile was back. “Yes, I know. Thank you. It´s just… Well, I guess that I will get to hear my lot. And I´m sure grandpa won´t put up with my “rebellion” and support me in this. So, I was wondering if I might be even able to finish my exams in the first place. I will have to take it step by step once back home. But that´s okay. I have time, don´t I? Otherwise, I will change plans and do something else. Something useful, that I know I will be good at, somehow. Around normal people, in a normal world.”

“Yes, you will!” Kristoff smiled at her reassuringly.

***

Kristoff held the little gift in his hand, unsure to give it Anna yet… When he had picked her up today, he had not expected the call Anna would get from Elsa. For some reason it had hit him in a spot, he had not realised before. Kristoff loved Anna for so many reasons. Maybe the greatest one was the fact that she loved him so naturally, so unconditionally, even though she was raised in such high standard surroundings.

But then, she had suffered this ugly betrayal, painfully facing the smirked mask of greed, when Hans had dropped her like a cheap cloth to the ground. She had been nothing more than a good trespass into the Rendelle business. Once his chances of career at the well named establishment got shrinking, she had been of no interest or rather use to him anymore. He was gone, faster than he had shown up. She´d been so embarrassed and devastated.

So, when Kristoff had first met her, it had been merely per accident. They had bumped practically into each other on a birthday party, neither of them had been eager to attend. That friend of hers from Senior High had moved on ever since. Kristoff had been invited by Sven, who had been invited by the birthday girl´s boyfriend. Sometimes the world was just small indeed.

Kristoff smiled at the memory of that first so dreadful evening, that at the end turned out to be so warm and wonderful. They had – by fate? – landed sitting next to each other, both kind of uninterested in great talk, while Anna was the one starting the conversation. First on a more polite basis, where at the end, they found themselves wound up discussing all sorts of things, from music, movies, food tastes, cars (well that was more his part, but she had listened and shown great interest best she managed), up to holiday spots worth dreaming about. And when he told her about his passion of working with wood and tools of all kinds, her eyes sparkled with pure and honest interest. He was bewildered at this recognition and asked her about this affection. Anna had smiled and explained, that she loved it when people were excited about what they did or loved. She didn´t know that much about passionate work or hobbies because all she was ever taught was to work hard for the family name and focus on that career. There was not much space left for anything else.

And when he had invited her to come and look at some of his and Sven´s projects, she had eagerly agreed and had never failed to show her pure interest.

Kristoff was positive that Anna would make her way and do a great job, no matter what she would do. If it were to help with guests and provide breakfast for them at his parents boarding house. She would do it enthusiastically and passionately. If she would defend some kid from being accused of robbery or any other unproved mischief, and then getting the best deal sorted out at court – she would be great. He was sure.

But now, he was wondering if his plans would fit her upcoming life. Just today, she had taken the courage to step away from an old life that had kept her in its forceps for so long. Was it fair if he asked her into his world like that? Binding her to him in this way, that maybe meant that she would be kept captive again? She deserved all freedom to herself now.

Kristoff sat on the edge of the bed, turning the little giftbox in his hands, waiting for Anna to emerge from the bathroom. When he heard the shower being turned off, he quickly stored the little box off into the nightstand drawer.

***

A desperate yell from the bathroom, followed by a shower of swearing from Anna´s exaggerated and clearly annoyed and shocked voice startled the young man to jump and hurry over to the bathroom door, just to push it open.

“Goodness, Anna! Are you alright?”

She stood wrapped in the towel, fumbling within her toilet bag, all the while stamping her foot, frowning, and swearing to the bag. Then she looked up, a miserable expression on her face, close to tears.

Kristoff stepped closer, worried she was hurt or in pain or whatsoever. “Hey, honey, what´s the matter?” He didn´t dare touch her while she looked so furious in a way.

Anna let out a heavy sigh, shrugged helplessly, and then held up the accusing delict.

Kristoff studied the little white cotton thing that was swinging in front of his nose and once recognising what it was, he grimaced and withheld the laugh.

Anna blurted out in a wild explosion, “I´m so sorry! It´s terrible, I had forgotten completely about this. It started just this evening. I´m so sorry….” She pleaded frustrated… At some point she had lowered her hand, fumbling with the tampon, annoyed...

Kristoff couldn´t help but laugh inwardly. Yep, that was bad timing, but for sure not her fault. So, he wouldn´t blame her or anything. That was after all a nature´s circle and part of the game.

He shrugged, scratched at the back of his head and sighed.

“Well, that´s too bad, isn´t it. I mean, think of it. Every princess of this resort and her catch ´might have sex tonight, except for us. Not think of what Mickey and Minnie Mouse will be up to…?” He grinned.

Anna stared at him. He was the best. Surely, he would be upset. But then, he was always so considerate when it came to her various conditions. By now, she shook her head in amusement and punched a fist to his upper arm.

“You pervert!” Then, she laughed and gnawed her lower lip. “Dam it! Now, I can´t get the picture out of my head!”

“We can change that.” Kristoff remarked, and pulled her close to him, “I´m sure we figure out some other ways of cherishing our time together.”

Anna frowned again and sighed, “but…!” She gestured to the room. “But… This is sooo amazing, and I screw it up!”

“No. You don´t! This not your fault and it isn´t like we wouldn´t get some other chance, wouldn´t we? Still… I do envy Mr. Cotton a bit, you know.”

That was it. Anna shoved him out of the bathroom playfully scolding him along the way.

*********

Note: The idea of mentioning another fanfic within the fanfic was very spontaneous – including the authors´ consent (WTWIITM – thanks to @upthenorthmountain and @karis-the-fangirl) 😊

[duchessofvastergotland]

Crown Princess Victoria’s life (1977-1987)

In January 1977 it was announced that King Carl XVI Gustaf and Queen Silvia were expecting their first child, eight months after their marriage. By the time the Queen went into labour, the press were in a frenzy and had taken to camping outside Karolinska Hospital to get a glimpse of the family. It was even reported the Queen had to avoid the press by sneaking in to the hospital in a wig! On 14th July at 21:45 - a day before her due date - Queen Silvia gave birth to a baby girl, the first child born to a Swedish reigning couple in over 150 years. The little girl weighed 3250 grams and was 50 cm long. There were a number of witnesses, as per tradition, including the Prime Minister. Within four hours of the birth the new family of three were back home. Shortly afterwards the little baby was named Victoria Ingrid Alice Désirée in honour of several key figures in the history of her family: her great-great grandmother Victoria of Baden; her great-aunt Queen Ingrid; her maternal grandmother Alice de Toledo; and her paternal aunt Princess Désirée. 

As is tradition in the Swedish royal family, the King and Queen soon decamped to their summer home Solliden in Öland. This was the beginning of a special, life long relationship between the Crown Princess and the island province. Just a few days after the birth, the family’s holiday home in the area became the setting for the first official images of the adorable new baby.

“She’s a ray of sunshine” The King and Queen talking about then Princess Victoria shortly after her birth

Her baptism was held on 27th September at the Palace Church. Her godparents were her aunt Princess Désirée, her uncle Ralf Sommerlath, Queen Beatrix of the Netherlands (then Princess), and King Harald V of Norway (then Crown Prince). 700 guests congregated for the event. The little princess was dressed in a lace christening dress previously worn by her father and aunts and embroidered with the names of the royal children. In a service conducted by Archbishop Olof Sundby she was baptised in spring water from Öland. 

“I remember the first time I saw the Crown Princess. She was baptised and the Queen walked with her on her shoulder through the Eastern Vault at The Royal Palace. Then I came a few yards behind and followed the same way, and I still remember these deep dark eyes just looking at me.” Elisabeth Tarras-Wahlberg, then Press Secretary to the Royal Court of Sweden, about seeing Victoria at her christening in 1977

Victoria lived a relatively quiet life as a child, initially splitting her time between Stockholm Palace and Solliden. Her parents were often abroad and as a result, the Princess was cared for by nannies and communicated with her parents by phone. She was rarely photographed out and about but her parents ensured the public got to see her with low key photo calls and public appearances at major events. In 1978 her first birthday was marked with the release of photographs taken by her father and in 1979 she greeted the press and keen onlookers at Solliden, starting what would become the Victoriadagen celebrations which are carried on to this day. 

In 1979, two months before her second birthday, Victoria was joined by a little brother who was named Carl Philip. She joined her family at Carl Philip’s baptism in August. 

“Suddenly Carl Philip started to cry. He was in the King’s arms. No one understood why. There was only one person who did and it was Victoria. She was still little at the time, but she jumped up from her little chair, rushed forward and lifted a small pillow that had fallen down.” Queen Silvia recalls Prince Carl Philip’s baptism

At the time of her brother’s birth, women could not legally inherit the throne and Carl Philip became heir. However, the government had been in discussion about changing the law for many years and in November 1979, the Parliament voted through an amendment to the Constitution which made the first born child the heir regardless of sex. Overnight Victoria became the heir to the throne and Crown Princess instead of her little brother. The law came in to effect on 1st January 1980 and on 9th she was awarded the title Duchess of Västergötland. There was substantial interest in this event; Sweden was the first country in the world to introduce equal succession rights and the King sparked headlines when he spoke of his concerns about his daughter having to balance the throne with motherhood.  

“Certainly when it happened, dad wondered why you would want to change the law. Everything had worked well so far. Today neither I nor anyone in our family sees it as a problem. On the contrary.” Victoria discusses her family’s views on the change to the line of succession

In 1981, in order to protect the privacy of the children and give them a more normal childhood, the family moved their primary residence to the more secluded Drottningholm Palace. According to those who knew her during this time the little princess was a funny, curious and warm child but could often post a challenge for her nannies with her boundless energy! In June 1982, a month before Victoria’s 5th birthday, the Queen gave birth to her third and final child Princess Madeleine. Once again, the Crown Princess joined the family at her sibling’s baptism which was held in August. 

“Dad called on us and asked if we wanted to see our new sibling. Carl Philip got so excited he ran on his tiptoes! There were a lot of people dressed in white and then the little baby” Crown Princess Victoria recalls the birth of her sister Madeleine

The Crown Princess was largely unaware of the role that she would have to take on some day. As a child she hoped to look after animals when she grew up - no doubt encouraged by her bond with her childhood pet, a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel named Sissi. She preferred to spend time with the palace staff than the social elite who often surround monarchies. As the King and Queen were often away, the Crown Princess became close to her siblings and acted as a mother figure. Despite being just a child herself, she was often the one who would comfort her brother and sister when their parents departed for long trips. Seeing the impact of this separation and being forced into taking on a mother role at such a young age no doubt shaping her commitment to being a hands on, present parent to her own children. Although they had disagreements like any siblings, Madeleine and Carl Philip have often spoken of the gratitude they feel towards their big sister for her role in their upbringing:

“Victoria took a lot of responsibility for us and looked after us. She’s also very creative and that makes her such a wonderful sister. She invented fun games, we built the most beautiful tree houses. She always did everything for us.” Princess Madeleine

When her parents were present, the family relished many of the same activities ordinary Swedish families enjoyed. They spent hours together skiing, fishing, and swimming. Victoria particularly enjoyed being out in nature and her personal and professional life as an adult has been profoundly influenced by this idyllic childhood: 

“I learned from (my father) to appreciate nature but also to recognise my own responsibility for taking care of it.” Crown Princess Victoria

In August 1984, she started pre-school at Smedslättskolan in Bromma. Photographs of her first day were shared in the media and she was dropped off by the King and Queen, but to her classmates Victoria was just another child. Her peers affectionately called her Oja, a nickname believed to stem from her siblings being unable to pronounce the name Victoria. She then moved on to Ålstensskolan, also in Bromma. Although the Crown Princess was a popular student problems soon manifested in her learning and she would go on to be diagnosed with dyslexia. 

“The hard time for me came later, as I started school…That’s when my reading and writing difficulties, my dyslexia, were discovered. That everyone else, who until then seemed like me, was suddenly learning to read and write and not me was extremely frustrating” Crown Princess Victoria

[s1cparvism4gna]

PuNK

WARNINGS: SMUUUUT, cursing

Pairings: Rafe Adler x OC

Tags: @desertvvitch , @courtenbae , @tiecladartist

Author’s Note: I’m now going to be posting my fic chapters on this blog instead of the other. As always, let me know if you’d like to be tagged 💕 enjoy! 😉

Chapter 6

Lyric’s POV

The next week at work was… strange to say the least. First of all, I’d never been so well rested. Second, I had gotten a call from the dive bar that some fancy guy came in and bought all the Floral and Fading tee shirts. All of them. ‘Who needs 150 band tees? That are the same….’ I thought. I tried not to think much of it but we made a lot of money from it. Enough to get groceries and laundry done and enough to splurge on getting my nails done for Italy (which I still couldn’t believe I was even going!). The third reason, which was the strangest of them all, was Rafe. He was acting weird. And by weird, I mean he’d been smiling more and saying his morning greetings pleasantly. Instead of yelling bloody murder when he asked things of me, he’d temporarily step out of his office to physically look at me and pose his questions. And he’d say things like “please” or “would you mind”.... I was almost convinced he’d been abducted by aliens and replaced with a clone. He would let me go home early, he would extend my lunch breaks, and he even invited me to join him at lunch. On more than one occasion. To which I immediately but politely declined. It was too much too soon. It felt like a trap.

By the time Thursday rolled around, I had everything packed to go. The air in the office was as normal as always. Everyone was tired and complained about how shitty their morning was. Everyone but my coworker Winter who was solely interested in Rafe and I’s upcoming trip to Italy. But for all the wrong reasons…

“I just think he might have a little crush on you is all.” She said, scribbling in her journal and typing up something in her computer. I snorted rather loudly as I sipped on my coffee.

“That’s bullshit if I ever heard it—”

“Just hear me out!” She exclaimed, low enough for only the two of us to hear. She stood from her desk and scuttled over to sit on the edge of mine. I leaned back into my seat, legs crossed and lips pursed to keep myself from bursting into laughter.

“Please. I would love to hear your reasoning.” I said, awaiting her answer as if I was waiting for the punchline of a joke to kick in. She pushed her blonde hair behind her ears and leaned towards me.

“First of all, it’s really not that far off. He relies on you to get shit done around here. If you weren’t here, he’d be a wreck, this office would be a mess, and half of us would lose our jobs. Two! You haven’t even seen how he’s been looking at you lately—”

“He doesn’t see me—” I interrupted briefly, tugging on the collar of my light pink turtleneck and sipping my coffee.

“Bullshit. The other day when you two were in a meeting, you got up to do something for Mr. Ackles and I looked up for a split second, glanced in the conference room…. I swear to God, he could not stop staring at you. I mean everywhere you moved in the room, his eyes were on you.” She said to me. I crinkled my brows and opened my mouth to refute but truthfully I didn’t know what to say.

“I’m his assistant! He’s probably making sure that I don’t fuck up—” She made a face for me to shut up. So I tilted my head as she continued.

“And let's be real about this: we can not act like he’s not the most attractive man in the building.” She winked at me, looking around to make sure he wasn’t around. She wasn’t wrong. Rafe was very attractive. I just never stared long enough to be under his thrall. And I never would. He was much too uptight for me. “Ricki, look. You’re 32. You’re not gonna get any younger. And that punk act you’ve got going on isn't gonna last forever.” I scoffed, trying my best not to be offended. I put blood, sweat, tears, money, and sleep loss into my musical career.

“Wow…” I laughed, blinking at her a bit.

“Not saying that you won’t make it but… isn’t that type of music generally for the younger crowd?” She asked me. She wasn’t really helping herself.

“Keep on callin’ me old, Winter….” I warned her in a half joking tone.

“I just think that if it turns out that he really does like you, you’d be stupid to not at least try it out—”

“Okay, you know what? I don’t care how he looks at me. The man dramatically spits out coffee if it’s not the right temperature. Why do I need that kinda stress in my life?”

“Because he’s rich.”

“I don’t care about that. He’s a shitty person.” I said simply, ending the conversation as I grabbed a file from behind her and opened it to read. She gave a frustrated sigh and crossed her arms, looking at me in disappointment. I glanced up from the file and she was still standing there. “Was that all?” I asked in a slightly bitchy tone. She shook her head.

“You’re unbelievable.” She said, smacking the back of my head playfully and sitting at her desk.

“Unbelievably SICK!” I retorted, flipping her off momentarily and she chuckled. Just then, Rafe came stalking into the office.

“Good morning, Mr. Adler!” Winter greeted, like the kiss ass she tended to be. But he ignored her.

“Ms. Lewis, could you meet me in my office please?” He asked as he quickly walked by.

“Yes s-” Before I could even finish my answer, his door slammed shut. I blinked, unsure of what to even think. He was happy all week… ‘I hope he’s still happy…’ I thought as I stood. Winter and I exchanged glances and I entered his office. He was scarily quiet, his hands gripping onto the edge of his desk until his knuckles were white. His briefcase laid sprawled out on the floor; I assumed he tossed at the couch and it didn’t make it. I carefully closed the door behind me and walked towards his desk. Once again, I couldn’t help but ask. I rested my hands on one of the seats in front of his desk and crossed my ankles, taking a deep breath before speaking.

“Are you okay?” I asked. He gave a deep sigh before curling his fingers into fists and punched the desk for a second. I jumped at the sudden noise as he sat down.

“No, Lyric. I’m not okay. I was but not anymore.” He answered through gritted teeth.

“What happened?” I sat down in the seat I was leaning on, smoothing out my skirt as he paced behind his desk. He began with a huff, already seeming more irritable the more he dwelled on it.

“Tell me… have you been keeping up with Samuel by any chance?”He asked as calmly as possible. I gave a nervous chuckle.

“What- do you think we keep tabs on each other like teenagers?” I answered. Truthfully, I hadn’t seen him in a very long time. I was almost disappointed. Almost. Rafe’s cheeks seemed to turn a faint pink for a moment as his poker face faltered a bit.

“No, no- I just…. I figured since you two were so close in the office that maybe you kept in touch...” he replied in a boyish tone.

“Are you jealous?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood a bit clearly he wasn’t feeling it.

“Lyric, please… This is serious.” His tired green eyes locked with mine and I could immediately see that whatever the problem was was truly stressing him out. So I gave him a break.

“No. I haven’t heard from him.” I told him. He hummed at my answer and scratched at the stubble that attempted to appear on his chin. “Rafe, what’s going on?” I asked, beginning to feel concerned. He seemed to be doing a few breathing exercises before he answered.

“It seems that some of my research has gone missing.” He said, holding onto the back of his seat for dear life.

“And you think Sam took it?” I asked.

“Well he is a thief, after all… I wouldn’t put it past him.” he grumbled, putting his head in his hands. My eyes widened.

“No shit.”

“Yes shit. He didn’t just magically come out of thin air. I…” he paused to carefully choose his words. “I bailed him out.”

“Oh. Shit…. How long was he in for?” I asked. I couldn’t believe it.

“14 years…” he replied, running his fingers through his hair.

“For stealing?! What did he steal?! The Hope Diamond?!”

“Oh no he uh…. he killed a guard on the inside.” He mumbled.

“HE WHA- he what?!” I snapped.

“Yeah. Congratulations. You were flirting with a murderer.” He said in a sassy tone. I chuckled and denied it.

“No… I wasn’t...flirting-”

“You were just being friendly?” He said. I smirked at him.

“Oh piss off!” I said, playfully hitting his forearm. I half expected him to look at me like I was crazy but he just smiled small and huffed in frustration, resting his forehead on his desk.

“Ugh this is the fucking worst…” he said. “I bet he’s on his way to Italy for that cross now.”

“Okay cool- but it’s an auction. Last I checked he was broke as hell and the security will be so tight…. So don’t worry about it, okay?” I said, calmly. He searched my eyes for a moment and nodded. His shoulders dropped and he seemed a bit more at ease. I put a comforting hand over his and ran my thumb over his knuckles. “It’ll be fine. We are going to go to Italy, sip some wine, eat some pizza, and get all dressed up for this auction. And you’re going to walk out of the estate with this cross. I’m manifesting it. I am putting it into the ether.” I said as positively as possible. His eyes never left mine and his grip had tightened a little in my hand.

“Of all the fine cuisine that Rome has to offer, you still want... pizza?” He chuckled in amusement.

“Of course! I want real Italian pizza, okay? With melted mozzarella and fresh tomato sauce and all the seasonings! Not one from down the street...or a frozen box.” I said and the look he gave me shocked me. His eyes seemed to trace over every feature of my face and his cheeks faintly blushed again. For a second I began to wonder if this is what Winter saw. This look that he was giving me right now. That shy look of longing. He smiled and retrieved his briefcase, sitting it on his desk as he avoided my gaze.

“Very well. I’m sure there’s a decent pizzeria around.” He said, taking a seat.

“Yes!” I exclaimed as I stood to leave. “So remember! Don’t worry. You’ve got this all under control.” I said, backing out of the office. And with that, I went back to my own desk. I sat down with a sigh. I couldn’t shake the look he’d given me. I suddenly hated Winter for making me notice it. Something about him was no doubt changing and I was interested to see what. I sipped on my coffee and continued to work until the day was out.

Finally, it was time to go. I pulled my suitcase from under my desk and dragged it to sit next to me. The office had gone home for the day and my last order of business was to leave Winter instructions on what to do in our absence. I was literally shaking with excitement. I’d never been anywhere outside the country before. I couldn’t wait for a bit of warm weather. I was freezing my ass off here. Rafe seemed to keep his cool since I talked to him last and to be completely honest, I was glad about it. The last thing we needed was his temper on a whole 9 hour flight. After a while, he appeared from his office and closed his door behind him with a tired smile.

“You ready?” He asked me. I shot up from my seat and threw on my trench coat, making sure I had everything together.

“Absolutely!” I grinned.

“Allow me.” He said, lifting the handle of my suitcase and dragging it along behind him. I was surprised at him. I always knew he was a gentleman but I’d never been on the receiving end of it before.

We walked to the elevator that took us to the rooftop and waiting for us, on and ready, was the big white company plane. I stopped for a second as I watched Rafe board the plane to just appreciate the experience I was about to have. “Are you coming or are you just gonna stand there?!” I suddenly heard Rafe shout to me above the deafening engines, tearing me from my thoughts. I nodded and ran towards the plane, trying not to twist my ankles in the tall heels on my feet. He stretched out a hand to me and helped me up the small flight of stairs. We were greeted by the pilot and a stewardess and shown to what was pretty much a lounge on this plane. The interior of it all was absolutely gorgeous. There were lavish beige recliner seats and a couch to match. Portable desks were made cherry oak with golden cup holders and the carpets were a deep wine red with gold accents. Red curtains covered the windows and there were even decorative pillows and blankets— everything was made to match. When I sat down, the stewardess came in and immediately began asking us if we wanted food or drinks… or alcoholic beverages.

“We’ll take dinner here.” Rafe answered before I could even open my mouth. “I’m sure you’re starving by now, right?”

“Uh… yeah.” I whispered, shedding my jacket and sitting on the couch.

“What do you want?”

“What would you recommend?” I asked, truly unsure of what I wanted.

“Jack back there makes this roasted garlic chicken with vegetables that’s just… magic.” He chef’s kissed the air and I widened my eyes with a giggle, sitting back in my seat. I’d never seen Rafe so expressive.

“Well then I’ll have that!” I smiled. I watched him grin as he began loosening his tie, undoing a few buttons and rolling up the sleeves of his collared shirt, putting in an order for a seasoned fish and potatoes.

“Very good, sir. May I get the two of you started on drinks?”the stewardess asked.

“Chateau Margaux Red, in a chilled glass please.” He answered, opening and reaching into his briefcase to pull out a few folders and a pen. Then she turned to me.

“And for you, miss?” She asked with a kind smile.

“Um…. whiskey?” I answered vaguely.

“Is there a brand you prefer?”

“Um….. no. I usually just order whiskey and I get... whiskey.” I giggled nervously, scratching my head. In the corner of my eye, I could see Rafe smile a little, his shoulders bouncing from a light chuckle.

“Get her a glass of Glenfiddich.”He said and the two nodded at each other in agreement.

“Two glasses…. maybe three.” I corrected him and he laughed again.

“Yes,ma’am. I’ll be back shortly. We should be in the air in about 10 minutes.” She told us as she gave me a smile. I returned it and sat back on the couch, my fingers tapping on the arm. I was nervous about flying, I’d never flown before. But I couldn’t let him know that.

“You okay?” He asked suddenly.

“Yeah…. just… really want a cigarette…”

“Hmph. I didn’t know you smoked.” He said casually.

“Uh yeah…. I’m tryin’ to quit.” I mumbled.

“Well good. That shit does fuck all for your lungs anyway.” He said and I nodded with a smile. He just kept on surprising me. Ever since we left the office, it was like he’d become a different person. I’d never heard him swear so much leisurely. “So um, I still have a bit of work to do before we touchdown in Italy. I’m gonna have my earpiece in so—”

“Of course! I can be quiet.” I chimed. He just chuckled.

“After dinner, Lyric.” He smiled.

“I knew that.” I mumbled in embarrassment.

Just as the stewardess said, we were in the air in no time and starting our flight to Rome. We held a light conversation over dinner, sort of like an ice breaker. Contrary to what I originally thought, he was actually kind of funny. Or “punny” rather. We talked about work, people in the office, how he couldn’t stand his meetings with certain people and we had a list of them that we both agreed were the absolute worst people; for similar reasons too. Afterwards, he delved into his work and I curled up on the couch, playing a few games on my phone as I listened to music, continuously drinking glasses of whiskey until I couldn’t feel my face. I couldn’t help but take a few glances at him as he worked though. The veins in his forearms that bulged as he scribbled on papers and the sharp angle of his jaw as he threw his head back when he was exhausted or frustrated was hypnotizing to say the least. The muscles in his chest making themselves present beneath his collared shirt and vest, the few strands of hair that tended to fall out of place by the end of the workday, his striking green eyes… ‘Stop it, Ricki. It’s Rafe. It’s your boss. You shouldn’t look at him that way…. Why are you even looking at him that way?!’ I thought suddenly. I scoffed and turned my phone off to close my eyes; maybe I could get a nap in somewhere on this flight. Before I knew it, the warmth of the food in my stomach, the low vibrations of the plane, and the comfort of the couch paired with the multiple drinks I had seemed to be enough to send me to sleep. Then I began dreaming…

I was in the office. It was after hours by the looks of things. When I turned in my seat, the workroom was empty, all the desk lamps were on and I was the only one there. Looking down, I was dressed in a simple white collared shirt and a pencil skirt that seemed to be a tad shorter and tighter than normal. But it didn’t phase me one bit. Hard rock music played off of my speaker rather loudly and there was an unfinished email typed up on the computer before me. I sighed and turned around to continue working when I heard Rafe’s voice calling me. “Ms. Lewis, I need your assistance please!” He yelled. Like always, I groaned loudly and went stomping towards his office. When I walked in, he was sitting behind his desk with his legs kicked up on the edge. His hair was disheveled as I secretly realized I liked, the buttons on his vest undone and his tie loosened, the cuffs of his sleeves rolled off of his wrists displaying a fancy watch. I leaned into the doorway and placed a hand on my hip with a touch of attitude.

“What do you want, Rafe?” I asked, completely out of character. If I ever answered him like that for real, I would probably be fired. But instead of yelling, he just let his eyes run over my body, biting his lip with intrigue. I cocked my brow and crossed my arms, tapping my foot impatiently as a devious smile flashed across his face. My heart skipped a beat as he took his feet off the desk and turned his attention to his computer.

“I’m having a bit of trouble getting this PDF to open. Would you mind…?” He asked me. I blinked at him a moment and sighed.

“Yeah. Seeing as I have to do everything else for you.” I replied in annoyance. I started over to his desk and he moved out of the way. Not necessarily standing up, more like just rolled his chair away from the computer. I leaned over as he rested his head in his hand on the desk, so obviously gawking at me as I typed away. Suddenly, he reached out and pushed a lock of hair over my ear, his finger stroking my jaw and his hand running over my shoulder then down my back. His touch caused a stir in me and I let out a shaky sigh but I continued to work. The file wouldn’t open. It didn’t make any sense. I did what I would’ve done on my own computer. I opted to try again.

“What is it that Samuel has that I don’t?” He asked me suddenly, his hand rubbing circles at the small of my back. I was taken aback and snapped my head to stare at him. The look on his eyes was something hungry and needy; like he was trying to hold back from doing something.

“I… um—”

“What can he give you… that I can’t?” He asked, his hand slipping past my hips and over the rounds of my ass. My heart began to race as his fingers traced down the back of my leg. I almost went weak when he graced over the sensitive spot just above the back of my knee. His touch was so electrifying that I could barely think. He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he watched my reactions carefully.

“He… I don’t—”

“You don’t even know do you?” He seemed to smirk as his fingers ghosted over my inner thigh, slipping by the split in my skirt a bit. He gripped onto my thigh tightly and as he stood, his fingers brushed over my clothed clit. “Do you even want him? Hm?” He breathed into my ear, pulling my hair off of my neck and letting his nose trace my jawline. I had forgotten what I was even doing in his office to begin with since he started touching me. I took a slow and deep breath as his cold lips pressed against the warm skin of my neck. I closed my eyes with a shiver as he began massaging my through my panties. “Answer me, Lyric.” He demanded, slapping my ass rather harshly. I gasped from the contact and my hands began to shake in excitement.

“Rafe, I—”

“Mr. Adler…” he corrected me.

“Mr. Adler, I don’t know what you mean…” I sighed.

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you. The way you look at him… Why don’t you look at me that way, huh?” He asked, lifting my skirt as he stood behind me, running his hands over my ass gently. “Do you have any idea what you do to me, Ms. Lewis?” He groaned as he pressed himself against me, his hands now firm on my hips as he pulled me close to feel his growing hard-on. As he ran his hand up my spine, I felt my back arch for him. He continued to spank me until my cheeks turned red and the cool touch of his fingertips eased the pain. His fingers hooked around the hem of my panties and yanked them down my legs. He used his foot to kick my legs apart and carefully scooped up and handful of my hair, pulling on it a bit. He ran a chilling finger up my slick cunt and licked his fingers for a taste. He moaned in my ear as I let out shallow breaths.

“Just as I thought. You taste delicious…” He said and he continued to stroke my wetness until I was all worked up and began to finger me roughly. I was left groaning in need.

“Mr. Adler… please…” I whimpered, his fingers diving in and out of me.

“What’s that, sweetheart?” He asked in a deep alluring tone.

“Please fuck me—”

“Please fuck me, who?”

“Mr. Adler! Please fuck me, please!” I cried out. With a frustrated grunt, he pushed everything off of his desk, not caring about the mess and laid me down. He undid my blouse and cupped my breasts, leaving sloppy kisses all over my chest and he undid his belt. I didn’t see it but boy could I feel it as he entered me. He sucked on my nipples a while as I got used to his size and his hand travelled up to my neck, squeezing lightly as he began to move. He kept it slow, drawing out the feeling of my clit dragging along his length. I couldn’t keep myself from whining as he rolled into me.

“Fuck me harder.” I said suddenly. “Please fuck me harder, Mr. Adler.” I moaned, staring him right in the eyes. He gave an almost evil chuckle as he removed his tie from his neck and wrapped it around my wrists tightly, pushing my arms above my head. He hiked up my legs to wrap them around his waist and he began to drive into me. He hovered over me, staring into my eyes with so much lust and want as I squealed and moaned beneath him. He alternated between slow and fast paced, ramming into me until I felt myself beginning to come undone.

“Keep it up and you’re going to make me cum, Lyric.” He growled through his teeth, resting his forehead against mine with a satisfied lightly dimpled smile. And it was a damn gorgeous one at that.

“Cum in me. I want you to…” I shuddered. He laughed tiredly, cupping my cheeks with his surprisingly soft hands and kissing me deeply.

“Whatever you want…” He said darkly, his hand dragging from my cheek to my neck again. And this time he used both hands to choke me gently. He snapped his hips into me repeatedly, tears beginning to well in my eyes as I started to see stars.

“I’m gonna… I—” Just as I was about to release—

I felt a hand run down my shoulder, gently shaking me awake. When I opened my eyes, I was met with those striking greens and I gasped in embarrassment, moving away. Rafe has woken me up, sitting on the edge of the couch with a tired smile.

“Sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you.” He said kindly as I sat up, a thick fabric falling off of my shoulders. He’d covered me with his jacket. My heart raced under his touch and I could feel my face burning as I looked into his eyes. “We’re about to land. I figured maybe you’d want to see the sky view.” He told me, pointing to the window behind my head. I turned my head to see a beautiful sunrise over what looked to be the Colosseum. I gasped and rose to my knees like a child to get a better look. All of the beautifully sculpted buildings and the bluest waters…

“This is amazing…” I said unknowingly.

“Wait until we actually get into the city.” He said in a soft tone of wonder similar to mine. I looked over at him and we shared a smile. This weekend was going to be an adventure for sure...

Full story on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26598127/chapters/64850665

[holycatsandrabbits]

“Oh, not again,” Mr. Crowley groaned.

In the sitting area of the bookshop, Sam, a makeup artist, had been giving another lesson to Audrey, the trans teenager he’d met at the shop a few months earlier. Audrey had brought her friend Lloyd with her this time, and they’d started out discussing lip-liner, Sam matching colors to both Audrey’s and Lloyd’s skin tones. But for the last few minutes, the three of them had just been staring in horror as a customer quite blatantly flirted with Mr. Fell. A younger man, who didn’t seem to care much for books, was leaning close, laughing too loudly, and nearly putting his hand on Mr. Fell’s shoulder.

And then Mr. Crowley had walked by and caught sight of it. “And of course, he can never tell,” Mr. Crowley groused, waving an annoyed hand in his husband’s direction. “Aziraphale sees the good in people first. Takes him a little while to realize someone’s ignoring the fact that he’s got my ring on his finger.” He muttered something that sounded something like, “Major design flaw in the species, if you ask me.”

Audrey turned her wide green eyes on him. “What are you going to do?”

Mr. Crowley dropped into one of the armchairs. “Now, why ever would you insinuate that I might possibly do something about the fact that there is a man hitting on my husband?”

Sam and the teenagers made some sort of vague noises of agreement. This was Lloyd’s first visit to the bookshop, but Audrey must have told him something about how Mr. Fell and Mr. Crowley seemed to be able to give the middle finger to reality, because the wiry, dark-haired kid was quite excitedly staring at Mr. Crowley.

Mr. Crowley, however, was now absently pawing through Sam’s pouch of lipsticks.

The man flirting with Mr. Fell belched quite loudly. Mr. Fell seemed a little nonplussed. 

As Mr. Crowley opened a lipstick to see what color blush pink delight actually was, the man slipped and knocked over a pile of books.

Mr. Fell looked from the customer to Crowley a couple of times. And then his expression grew displeased, in the way only Mr. Fell could look displeased, as if he was able to somehow think something rude in a polite manner.

“Oh, I should have left the books alone,” Mr. Crowley whispered.

Sam didn’t expect what came next though. Sweet Mr. Fell looked directly at his husband and then rested his hand on the customer’s arm. Mr. Crowley sat straight up in his chair, and Sam wasn’t entirely sure he was still breathing.

And then the customer tripped again and crashed into a bookcase, nearly knocking the whole thing over.

“Crowley!” Mr. Fell exclaimed.

Crowley shot to his feet. “I—it wasn’t me!” He waved an uncharacteristically ungraceful hand in the air. “Not my fault he’s just clumsy!”

The customer staggered to his feet, and gave them all a sort of panicked look and then rushed out the door. 

Mr. Fell just stood there with a faint smile on his face. Mr. Crowley gaped at him and then suddenly growled, managing to sound both angry and impressed. “Angel! That was you! You set this entire thing up!”

“I’m sorry, darling.” Mr. Fell did not look in the least bit sorry. “But you shouldn’t have forgotten our anniversary.”

Mr. Crowley sputtered. “Our anniversary is April 4. Four-four, there’s only one number to remember, and it’s the number four, and I remember it, and today is—I have no idea what today is, but it’s October, and that’s number ten!”

“Oh, not our wedding, my dear. I meant the first time that you kissed me. You do usually remember it, and—”

“Oh—oh!” Mr. Crowley stammered. “Well, what, was that yesterday? I thought it was today! I have something for you upstairs, I’ll just run and get it.” He was gone toward the stairs before anyone could say anything else.

Over a snort of muffled laughter, Sam said, “I did not know you had that in you.”

Mr. Fell smiled. “Oh, Heavens. Living with Crowley, you learn your way around a prank. Besides, it’s…well, the thing is, Crowley comes from a place where no one ever showed him a moment of kindness. Sometimes it’s hard for him to accept that an ang—ah, that someone who is kind by nature loves him. He’s a little more comfortable being married to someone who’s a bit of a bastard sometimes.”

Audrey gasped in delight. “Is it even your anniversary?”

“Crowley first kissed me at Mardi Gras. March, not October. He’ll figure it out in a minute.”

As the other three tried to smother their giggles, Mr. Fell said, “You know, what Crowley went through—being cast out of his family—he wasn’t meant to be able to survive that and still be himself. To still be nice. To still be able to love. He’s the strongest person I’ve ever met.” He glanced toward the stairs. “But when they told him that he’d never be loved again, because of who and what he is now, that part he believed. Someday I’ll convince him to believe me instead.” He suddenly looked a little mischievous again. “For now, if I want to spoil him, it takes a bit of doing.”

There was a clattering on the stairs and Mr. Crowley burst back into the room, looking severely annoyed. “Angel! Mardi Gras is in Spring! If you think I don’t remember our first kiss—”

Mr. Fell turned to them and said laugh, and though Sam didn’t really feel like it now, with Mr. Crowley looking so angry, a gleeful laugh somehow magically burst out of him, all three of them, as if they’d been holding it in until Mr. Crowley figured out the joke.

“Aziraphale!”

Mr. Fell slipped a hand over his husband’s arm. “Oh, darling, I’m so sorry.”

“No, you aren’t.”

Mr. Fell grinned up at him. “I’m not. But will you let me make it up to you? I found a bottle of your favorite wine in the cellar yesterday. Maybe we could go for a drive tonight, a couple of hours into the country and do some stargazing? Somewhere very private?”

Mr. Crowley blushed just a little, and he hauled his husband into his arms. “For a start, angel,” he grumbled.

Mr. Fell glanced at the three on the couch and winked.

*****

In my headcanon for this series, these two went to Mardi Gras in New Orleans like 150 years ago, got drunk, made out like mad for 5 minutes, and then never talked about it again until after the Abotchalypse, when they discovered that they’d both been privately celebrating it as an anniversary ever since.

Stay tuned for more Lloyd in the next ficlet!

Mr. Fell’s bookshop ficlets master post

Find me on Ao3: HolyCatsAndRabbits (Dannye Chase)

[braveskyered]

I'm playing the Pokemon Sword and Shield expansion on my Sword game, and as usual, I have no idea what I'm doing.

Klara, look, I swear, I'm not the new student. I don't even know how I received the Armor Pass in my bag out of thin air in Motostoke. Was it a drop-pocket instead of a pickpocket that did this? Nobody knows and we'll probably never figure it out.

You don't want me to go to that dojo? Okay, cool, I'll just be off exploring this new place and how is there an Alolan Diglett?

Okay, so this thing has a trainer that fell in love with the Diglett's cute little hairs and caught some more back then. What? You need me to help you find them? Okay, cool, no problem. Just tell me where they might be and how many and WHAT what do you mean you want me to find 150 more Diglett?!

Forget falling in love, this guy is an Alolan Diglett Maniac. ...Philiac? That's only used as a suffix but whatever moving on!

Ran out of places to explore so I went to take a peek at the dojo, and I get welcomed with welcome arms and no one seems concerned that I'm not actually the new student. At least Mustard understood the deal, but I'm not sure if I can take him that seriously since he has a wife named Honey and therefore the ship of the two will probably be called the Honey Mustard. The Condiment Couple of... Armor? Whatever.

HOW ARE THE SLOWPOKE SO FAST?! ...And it took Klara's uniform. Dang it, Mustard!

Off to find some big shrooms for some big max shroom soup and WOW those are big and I might have to make more than one trip. Klara shows up? Perfect! Help me carry these back!

Nope, she wants to battle. Klara, I get it, you're the better trainer, now cut it out and help get these shrooms over to Master Condiment. No? You're gonna look for more and hopefully better ones? Suit yourself, and I was going to let you have these!

Klara asks me what I have that she doesn't upon defeat.

(Does nobody here realize that I'm the current Galarian Champion.)

Whatever, I'm going to look for more Alolan Diglett for that hopeless maniac.

[high-tidethunder]

even oaks must bend

Joe has to leave the safehouse. He can’t deal with the look on Andy’s face, the desperation in her eyes that mirrors that of a wild animal about to be dealt a death blow.

The idea is stifling, forces his breath from his lungs in quick, shallow beats that come ragged from his throat, out of sync with the erratic rhythm of his heart in a way that makes him feel dizzy, unbalanced. It flits through his mind that he, too, feels like a wild animal, that Andy’s request is a rock hurled at him with the force of a great beast and all he can do is watch.

Because how could he say no? How could he tell a woman who’s friendship had lasted nearly a millennium, a woman who was the most vulnerable she had ever been, a woman who was hiding all her despair in her eyes and showing none of it on her face, that he would not help her keep a promise she had feared would be broken forever?

The problem is that the price of saying yes weighs heavy on his heart and he’s not sure how easily he can pay it. Not when it was the betrayal of the one he’d be paying it to that had caused him the worst wounds of his centuries on this earth.

He has seen his own flesh rended so many times, stood up and seen pieces of himself strewn on the ground and known himself still to be whole, taken so much injury and kept going, and maybe, in the beginning, it had been hard to forget these moments but as time carried ever onward it became...ordinary.

But these wounds—

He may no longer feel them, and there is no mark on his skin as proof they happened, but he remembers the pain.

More than that, he remembers the terror, that it was ice cold, how it spread through him with each new level of depravity their captors had reached until it was entrenched in his bones. He wasn’t sure he would ever be able to rip it out.

He thinks that these wounds might just be the ones that do him in, despite the years that have passed since they’d been inflicted.

He can hear Nicky calling for him over the cacophony of his thoughts and stops in his tracks, the gravel garden path of this safehouse shifting under him, and he notices that the air is sharp and cold. It bites his lungs with each breath, desperate things that come in staccato waves and sting the back of his throat. He feels his chest tighten more with each inhale, though whether it’s from the cold or the panic he can’t tell.

He feels a hand on his shoulder and leans into the touch, though his mind still races and heart still pounds, he feels his muscles uncoil, the tension fading as Nicky loops his arms around his waist, careful to slip them under Joe’s where they hang at his sides and rests his head on his shoulder.

«Breathe, love,» he whispers. The Arabic falls from his tongue like leaves in an autumn wind, gentle and susurrus, and Joe sinks into him. He lets his shoulders go loose, tries to match the rise and fall of Nicky’s chest with shuddering breaths until his head no longer swims and his pulse steadies. Something they’ve had to learn how to do for one another, over the years, since the first night of sleep that had been shattered by screaming after a dream contorted into a memory.

He’d love to say it’s gotten easier with time. Remembering.

They’re not sure how long they let the silence sit in the air, a placid kind of silence, muted by the surrounding forest and the mist that rolls off the nearby lake, but it’s comfortable. A necessary quiet, one that allows the men to think, to compose themselves and their thoughts before having to step back out into the world.

«I don’t know how to face him,» Joe admits, voice quiet, thick. «I don’t think I will ever be able to forgive him for—» he swallows through the tightness in his throat and blinks the glassiness from his eyes, but he can’t bring himself to finish the thought.

He doesn’t need to.

«Yusuf,» Nicky says, and his voice sounds so full of pain, and worry, and love that Joe is afraid he’s about to shatter, «I know, love,» his voice goes rough and he buries his face in Joe’s neck where it slopes into his shoulder. «I know. Some things are not so easily forgotten.» He takes a breath, brings a hand up so that it sits over Joe’s heart, and Joe finds himself instinctually bringing his own hand to Nicky’s, lacing their fingers together. «So we do not bring forgiveness, we don’t call it that. But we do this anyways. We do this for Quynh because we couldn’t before.»

“Work with someone we don’t want to eat with?” Joe asks with a small smile, the favorite proverb of Andy’s tripping from his tongue in reluctant English, and Nicky lets out a laugh.

“Yes, work with someone we don’t want to eat with.”

They fall quiet again, only for a moment, before Joe takes a breath and settles back into the language of his far-gone youth. «Maybe one day we’ll want to eat with him again.»

Nicky stills behind him. «I hope so.»

~*~

When they tell Andy they’ll do it, she looks like the weight of the world has lifted from her shoulders.

~*~

They land at Charles de Gaulle and Joe’s skin prickles, too close to the old safehouse for any measure of comfort. He glances at Nicky and sees the same anxiety written on his face, the shadow cast by his hood seeming to darken the expression so it reads like a thundercloud about to crack. He reaches over, wraps an arm around Nicky’s shoulders, and pulls him close, the line of contact between their torsos the only part of him that buzzes with something other than apprehension. Nicky looks at him, a small, tight smile adorning his face for a split second before it falls flat, and Joe’s heart aches.

«We’re safe, my heart,» he whispers, and Nicky’s shoulders drop. The movement is small enough that it would be imperceptible to anyone who hadn’t memorized the lines of his body in a way intent upon worship, the way a priest memorizes scripture, but to Joe, it sings of relief.

When he looks to the women again, the sympathy and worry on Nile’s face is so raw and open that it hurts, and he has to cut his eyes away to not break where he stands.

~*~

The sidestreets are dead silent compared to the bustle of downtown, letting both ease and worry simmer in Joe’s bones as they pass only occasional pedestrians on their walk to the address Copley had given them. It’s a small apartment, part of a stonework building that’s likely just as old as Booker himself and a part of Joe wonders if he’d chosen it for the familiarity. A bigger part of him finds that it still hurts to care.

Nile steps forward and knocks on the door with a steady hand and Joe feels himself tense, as if he were heading into battle rather than seeing an old friend.

Maybe he is, though. Whatever lies ahead won’t be pretty, and it certainly won’t be painless, but it has to be done. The way it’s been for every battle he’s fought.

It’s not a thought he has much time to mull over before Booker opens the door, looking run-down but not worse for wear as Joe had suspected he might. His eyes land on Nile first and fear shoots through them.

“She’s not—” he begins to ask, the tremor in his voice another thing Joe wishes he could just not care about. He guesses he should be grateful it doesn’t take long for Booker to see Andy and sigh away the tension in his shoulders.

“You’re not rid of me yet, Book,” she says, voice soft but tight, and steps around Nile to pull him in for a hug. Joe has to look away to keep the pain that’s fisted around his heart from tightening. After a moment, Andy steps back, one hand still on Booker’s shoulder. He looks at the group, gaze lingering too long on the crumbling brick of the wall behind Joe and Nicky.

“Just Nile I might understand,” he starts, cutting his eyes to the youngest immortal, “but why are you all here? Ninety years premature, not even a heads up from Copely, what is it you’re trusting me with and not him?” he asks, the question infused with a wry laugh.

“Well, I don’t have ninety years.” Andy says, matter-of-fact, “And let’s be clear, I’m still pissed at you, but what I do have is a promise to keep and a lead on Quynh. And you have penance to pay so you’re going to help us follow it.”

Booker stares at Andy for a second, then steps back from the doorway and motions the group in.

He doesn’t make eye contact, as they enter. Joe can’t tell if he wishes he would.

~*~

They’re spread around what little space is available in Booker’s cramped apartment, every surface not occupied by a body is holding atlases from the past 5 centuries, seafloor maps as old as they could find, and any old mariner’s record Andy had figured might help them in their quest. Andy holds onto the copies of the diary pages she’d gotten from the museum under the guise that she was a history professor working on a research project with her students.

(It wasn’t technically a lie, she’d protested. She had been a history professor, nevermind that it was for 6 weeks, 150 years ago, and she’d been going by Andrew to do it.)

There’s a boat sitting at a marina an hour away, full of sonar equipment (mostly stolen) and diving gear (mostly not), waiting for them to make sense of it all.

It feels as though the tension in the room is muting any sound.

“Right,” Andy says, finally, slapping her hands on her thighs and standing. “Well, Nile and I are going to get food—”

“We are?”

“—Booker, where’s the nearest grocer?”

“Straight shot north, once you reach the main road,” he responds, as if on auto-pilot, and Andy takes Nile’s hand and pulls her up from her seat, tugging her towards the door.

What remains is the sounds of a pen scratching paper just a little too hard, pages being turned with unnecessary force, sounds that grate the ears and rake the mind.

It’s Nicky who breaks first, or maybe this is his version of offering a truce, setting his pen down to mark his place in the book he’s consulting before looking up. “We loved you as a brother, Sebastien,” he says, with a cold sort of softness, and the immediacy with which guilt floods Booker’s expression is like an arrow to the heart. It doesn’t stop Nicky, whose hands shake where he’s clasped them in his lap, though his voice remains steady. “No, actually, we still do. And that’s the knife in the wound, isn’t it? Because somewhere along the way, you stopped. You stopped seeing us as family and started seeing us as a means to an end, and all we ever saw you as was—” he cuts himself off with a scoff and looks away.

Joe stands silently from his chair across the room and walks to him, stopping behind him and laying a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Booker’s eyes tighten and he swallows hard, looks down at his hands, tracing an invisible line on a map. “I never—” he takes a deep breath, lets it out shakily. “I never thought anyone would get hurt. I never meant for that. I don’t know why I thought it would be any different than what it was.”

“But why?” Joe hears himself ask. “Why do it in the first place?”

Booker shrugs, raises his head like it pains him to do so, and looks between Joe and Nicky. “Because for the better part of two hundred years I felt alone?”

And, oh. There’s that old anger.

Joe feels a hand on his and realizes how tightly he’d been gripping Nicky’s shoulder. He eases, flexes his fingers under Nicky’s by way of apology and takes the answering stroke of a thumb over his knuckles as reply, and lets out a sharp breath. “Well, you were wrong. You weren’t alone. You chose to be. We were always there for you.”

“I know, and I know ‘I’m sorry’ isn’t enough, I know there’s nothing I could say, there’s probably nothing I could do that would ever earn your forgiveness, and I don’t blame you, but I am sorry. I’ve been sorry since I first set up that fucking meeting, I was just too caught up in my own grief to back down. I should’ve just given myself over at the start.”

Joe sighs. What he wants to say is that he should have talked to them from the start. From before Copley even entered the picture. The first time he’d had the hare-brained idea. But he knows that won’t help anyone now, so what comes out instead is, “Just, help Andy with this. It’s as good a first step as any.”

Joe holds Booker’s gaze just a beat longer before the other man clears his throat and looks back down at the map in front of him, but Joe can tell he’s not really studying it anymore. He feels Nicky’s shoulders sag more than he hears the heavy breath he’s let out, feels the hand on his slip away, watches it fall to Nicky’s lap the moment his head drops.

The silence is broken by a loud knock on the door and a man’s call, muffled by the heavy wood. « Jean-Paul! Es-tu en ici? »

« Ouais! J’arrive! », Booker calls, and stands, turning to look at Joe and Nicky again, frozen in their solemnity. “For what it’s worth,” he says, “I did see you as family. I still do. I just didn’t know how to reconcile that with what family has meant for me.” He pauses a moment, then gives a small nod and walks to the door.

~*~

The sun beats relentlessly on the deck of the rented boat, at its nth stop in the middle of the ocean, little cobalt waves lapping at its hull almost mockingly. Or maybe it just feels that way, with heavy, drowsy sun-sickness set in countless hours ago and nothing to do but wait. It reminds Joe of when he was a young man (well, younger), becalmed on the ocean voyage that had led him to Andy and Quynh for the first time. He’s pretty sure he’d knitted enough socks to ensure all the armies of the world would have warm feet.

He idly wonders if he should have brought some needles and yarn, remembers that Nile had been curious to learn, when the surface of the water breaks again.

This time, Sebastien’s not alone.

The relief that blossoms in Joe’s chest threatens to choke him with tangled vines that reach up into his throat and encircle his heart. At its root, a bud of forgiveness, beginning to twist into bloom.

Maybe, he thinks, between pulling Quynh onto the deck and helping her into Andy’s arms, you can’t go right to wanting to eat with someone.

He leans over the gunwale again, extends a hand to Sebastien, still treading water. Maybe, first, you have to tolerate the walk to the grocery store.

[alwritey-aphrodite]

Running

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Warnings: None, I swear a bit

Word Count: 1.4K

Author’s note: I posted this awhile back, originally called Hunted, but I edited it and made some changes. Also, timeline wise, I’m not sure where this fits in, so sorry. Should I make this a series? I don’t know yet

You had been running almost all of your life. From the law, from people, from yourself. You never rested enough to have anything catch up to you, including your own thoughts and doubts. But now, you were tired of running. You were a hustler, your profession of choice screwing over all of the used to be powerful men, who, up until recently, held all of the control and power. And now, you could use that lack of power to your advantage. They were so incredibly desperate, and they were easy targets. You said you would give them information, but really, all of the drives and discs you handed them were completely blank, and you made good money. They were all so desperate for anything that could put them ahead, making them all very easy to scam into any amount of money you wanted for the “valuable information”.

That's what led you to the sketchy cantina you were in currently, on some desert planet forgotten by all but the ones who lived there. It was a pretty regular occurrence for you, land on a planet, screw some people over, and get the hell out of there before they find out.

“We agreed on 50." The old man across from you said, gesturing to the small drive in your hands.

“Well, supply in demand. 75"

“Fine, we'll agree-"

“150"

“Would you stop-"

“I'll give it to you for 200. No more, no less." The man across from you sighed, and began to dig in the small pouch for more credits. He handed you a small pile, and then held his hand out for the drive. You shook your head, and took the credits, and began to count them. When you were sure he wasn't scamming you as you were scamming him, you placed the drive in one of his hands and shook the other, exiting the cantina as quickly as you could without making yourself look overly suspicious.

You quickly wrapped your scarf around the lower half of your face, to shield it from the many people in the surprising crowded marketplace that was just outside of the cantina. And then, you heard the sound you dreaded more than anything. That quiet little beeping of the bounty fob. Cursing under your breath, you scanned your surroundings before hurrying off into an alley, and scaled the wall, hiding out on a small ledge on the wall. No more than a minute later, the bounty hunter entered the dingy alley, and before he could find you, you leapt from your ledge and onto his back. Before he could fight back, you quickly snapped his neck in one swift motion. As you both dropped to the ground, you muttered a quiet apology, and took the bounty fob, crushing it under your heel. After that, you needed to get the hell off that planet, knowing soon enough that man back in the cantina will realize it was a scam. You ran off towards the sand dunes, where Din Djarin has recently landed the Razor Crest, hoping the dunes would be enough to conceal the ship.

When you reached the dune that held the Crest, and where Din was currently sitting in the sand, watching the Child play around, you tripped and fell all the way down the dune before you could assess your surroundings in detail. Din noticed this, but he figured you weren't a threat, seeing as he had watched just watch your roll down a rather large hill, and he turned his attention back to the kid. As soon as you reached the bottom and had stopped rolling, you sat up, beginning to curse and cough out sand that had gotten into your open mouth during the fall. When you regained your bearings, you took off towards the Mandolorian, who was paying no attention to you. As soon as you saw him, you assumed he was sent after you, so it was your personal mission to get rid of him, as quickly as possible, and take his ship.

You ran around the back of the ship, and waited for a few minutes, long enough that Din had assumed you had walked up the sand dune at the back of the Crest, and he was no longer thinking of you as a threat. However, you were walking up behind him, and grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him flat on his back on the sand. Before he could react, you rolled on top of him, pinning his hands by his head using your. knees, so you were basically straddling his chest

"The fob. Give it to me." You demanded as Din struggled, and the Child watched on with his big eyes and his ears perked up.

"What?" Din replied, confused and still trying to wrap his head around how he got into this position in the first place.

"The bounty fob. Give it to me. Now." In your desperation, you had failed to notice the lack of that familiar beeping.

"I don't have one." Din replied, trying to get you off of him. However, your hands had found purchase at the bottom of his helmet, causing him to stop moving completely.

"If you don't give me that damn bounty fob, I swear to Maker I'll rip this helmet off of you."

"I promise, I don't have any bounty fobs. See? Listen?" You both were quiet, and you finally noticed that there was in fact none of that all too familiar beeping.

You waited a few moments, before awkwardly rolling off of him to sit next to him, and extended your hand to help him back into a sitting position. You were both quiet for a few minutes, you assumed he was waiting for you to leave.

"I'm sorry, I just saw the helmet and I assumed…” your apology trailing off as the small green child waddled his way towards you, gaining your attention.

"It's...fine." You were breathing heavily, from all of the adrenaline. You realized that you haven't really had a moment to catch your breath and relax since before you realized you were being followed back in the market.

You held your hands out to the small child, which he gladly grabbed onto, and made a small cooing noise, causing you to also make a small noise that sounded almost like a laugh.

“Hey” the Mandolorian exclaimed, and you quickly dropped the baby’s hands, causing his large ears to droop down. You place your hands back in your lap, before muttering an apology. Everyone fell back into an uncomfortable silence, with the kid making noises and reaching for you, before the Mandolorian stood up and picked him up, heading back towards his ship. With nothing left to lose, you followed him.

“No.” He answered your question before you even asked.

“But-“

“No, I don’t have any room.”

“Looks like you do. I don’t take up much space, you won’t even know I’m here.”

“Yes I will.”

You huffed, before continuing, “I could do maintenance on the ship, looks like you need it. Plus, the kid seems to like me,” you added, pointing to the child in Don’s arms, looking up at you with large eyes and cooing again at the attention. The Mandolorian, however, didn’t seem too convinced. You had one last trick up your sleeve, so you pulled out your pouch of credits and shook it a bit, adding on “I can pay”.

The Mandolorian sighed, before finally saying, “Fine”. You smiled at him, and the baby made another noise of contentment, causing you to giggle.

“But if I need to, I’m leaving you somewhere.”

“Fine, fine, whatever you need, I just need to get the hell out of here. And, I guess it would be nice to have a bit of company for a while, until you get tired of me.”

Din didn’t respond, but he was agreeing with you in his mind, thinking how it wouldn’t be so bad to have someone like you with him, even if it was just for a little while. You could fight, you had credits, and the kid seemed to like you, which was all that mattered to Din at the moment. He told you none of this, instead leaving you in silence to go to the cockpit, taking the kid with him, and you trailed behind. It was nice to have someone to run with, you thought to yourself.

[thismightbeaterribleidea]

Accidental Snowbirding

So I went to Florida and accidentally became a snowbird. I drove south in September with no real timeframe for anything in mind, and I ended up staying on the Gulf coast north of Tampa (Pasco County) for almost three months, minus a couple of weeks I was in Georgia.

Some friends have asked me how the new, nomadic life is going, and I tell them that it hasn’t really felt that nomadic. I’ve enjoyed being close to my friend Ron — I had a regular rotation of several campgrounds, none of them more than half an hour from his place. It reminded me of the decade-plus ago when we both lived in Denver, in old, cheap apartments within walking distance of each other. A friend calls and says “do you want to come over?” and you just go over. It’s lovely. We both got into paddleboarding (more on that later) and explored some rivers. We even took an airbnb trip to the Smokies and northern Alabama before the pandemic escalated. So it’s been interesting and good, if different from the types of images that motivated me to buy this big-ass van (wilderness, solitude, aspen groves, desert mesas).

Here’s what I remember from the last few months:

A cotton-candy-pink bird forages on a shoreline and it is so quiet that you can hear its three-clawed feet pattering in the mud. Ninety minutes later we are scarfing down fried chicken in the car in a crowded parking lot.

In the trailer park, people drive golf carts around in loops: maybe this passes for exercise, or maybe they are hoping to run into someone to talk to.

Until November, I sweat and sweat and sweat, and then it cools off enough for me to run in the morning and it’s glorious. 

During the day, there is constant traffic and the lights are always red. There are a lot of billboards, all promising different things, but the one that makes us angry is the one that says “Jesus promises stability.”

I spend the night at a trailer park and the ladies in the office are sweet and efficient and wearing masks. But the spot I’m assigned is across from a mobile home with one of those flags that is half the U.S. flag and half the Confederate flag, and although my privilege probably keeps me safe here, I keep running through the equations with slightly different variables: who would be safe in this spot, in this trailer park/this county/this state/this country, and under what circumstances? What could make all of us safer? And the people who chose to pay for and display that absurdity of a flag, why is that flag the story they tell themselves? And what is the topography of the shared responsibility for all of this bullshit?

We paddle the Hillsborough River and see no other boaters but two alligators. One is basking on a log, and when I turn my head for a second it drops into the water with a massive splash: one moment there was a six-foot alligator; the next moment there was nothing but ripples. It was that fast. My friend decides he will not paddle here alone.

I see live oaks that have Spanish moss hanging from their branches, sure — but they’re also covered in lichens, and on the horizontal branches there are carpets of multiple kinds of moss and clusters of foot-tall ferns. It’s a whole ecosystem in one tree.

I’m driving “home” (most frequent campground) late one night and I am alone on a very dark road. In my headlights, I see a human figure in the middle of my lane, facing directly at me. I think: goblin! But it is a human person. I swerve into the other lane in case he moves. But he doesn’t move a muscle. He is in a half-crouch with his hands on his knees. I catch a glimpse of him in profile as I pass: his face is set in a rictus, jaw clenched. He is still staring straight ahead, unblinking, as if he hasn’t even seen me.

I call Ron just to reassure myself that I haven’t slipped out of the real human world and into someplace else.

“Oh my God,” he says. “But no, you’re still in the real world. There’s a lot of meth around here. He’s not a demon or anything. It’s just Florida.” He is wearing a dark sweatshirt and standing in the dark on a dark road; what if he gets hit? I call the police and I hate that to this day I still wonder if that was the right decision.

We get into paddleboarding. Ron already has an inflatable paddleboard, and I buy one with money I should be saving for things like van insulation or the loose crown on my lower left molar that is already living on borrowed time. But the paddleboard is amazing. Previously, I hadn’t gotten it: why stand when you could sit? I’m lazy and I have crappy feet; I hate standing. But this isn’t regular standing. It’s walking-on-water standing. In our favorite river, the Weeki Wachee, you can see all kinds of things from a paddleboard that it’s harder to see in a kayak, just because of the angle. On a paddleboard, you look straight down and there’s a fish striped like a zebra, an old pine log submerged ten feet down in the clear water, a scurrying blue crab, a bed of rippled sand.

We start at the public park and paddle up against a stiff current. Twice, we get to the three-mile mark and there is the same black-and-white cormorant in the same tree both times. We are familiar with the fact that if you time it right, so that you get back to the park as late as possible without actually paddling in the dark, and the crowds taper off so you have the river to yourself, the deepest pools are turquoise on our way upriver and viridian on our way down.

There are sometimes manatees on the river. In this part of the world, manatees are THE charismatic megafauna. And they are charismatic as hell. Once we are out late, a couple miles up the river with no one else around, and we see a mother and baby grazing on eelgrass in shallow water. We watch for minutes, mesmerized. The baby is tiny for a manatee: about the size of a Corgi. It must be very, very new. There is another manatee that I’m pretty sure I see several times on different days: it is very plump, with three pink slash marks across its back. We get to the point where, if there is a throng of other boaters stopped near where manatees are feeding, we don’t try to stop and see the manatees. We’ve seen them before, and we’ll see them again, when we don’t have to worry about the people and their kayaks and canoes in the current.

The last time I went to the Weeki Wachee, I went alone. The leaves were turning, because the calendar’s close-to-Christmas is Florida’s fall. I hadn’t ever planned on seeing a blazing orange maple next to tropical blue water, but it happened. Close-knit formations of big, soft gray, doe-eyed fish darted under my feet, and at the appointed time the water started turning dark green. In one of the final bends just upriver from the park, there is a deep spot called Hospital Hole. As I paddled down towards it, I saw one manatee, then another break the surface to breathe. I drifted over the hole, away from the manatees near the surface, and I saw the outline of another one eight or ten feet down against the very dark blue of very deep water.

The Weeki Wachee is a very narrow river, usually not more than thirty feet across and often only twenty. It’s also shallow, four or five feet on average, twelve where the current has carved a deep groove or pocket. Hospital Hole is at one of the river’s widest points, I’d guess maybe 150 feet from bank to bank. The hole itself — technically a sinkhole, but with a couple of small springs feeding into it — is only about 30 or 40 feet wide, but 140 feet deep. It goes down so far that there are different layers of water: freshwater, saltwater, a layer that is anoxic, another layer that is so full of hydrogen sulfide that divers can smell the rotten-egg odor even though they’re breathing compressed air. I read online that the manatees often go to Hospital Hole to sleep at night. The sinkhole-spring, like a big deep pocket, gives them space to stay together and still spread out. They can sink down below where they have to worry about boat engines or curious paddle boarders or whatever else manatees worry about. Every so often, they come up to breathe, then sink down again. Respire, rest, repeat.

It’s 7:17 p.m. as I am writing this, so they’re probably there right now.

***

So that’s Florida! Other, more nuts-and-bolts things that have happened include...

I installed lights and outlets. This was a big project and a big deal, since it means that I can have things like a fan (to keep me from sweating to death in the summer), an electric cooler (a.k.a. mini-mini-fridge) for things like vegetables and hummus and cheese and cold boozy beverages, and, well, lights at night that aren’t a harsh blue-white solar lantern, which is what I was using before October, when I made these improvements. Anything electrical is always a little scary; I’m nervous every time I have to go into the breaker box and always surprised when I’m able to touch it without shocking myself. I also had an extremely minimal understanding of how to splice wires together and how to connect all these lights to each other, to the dimmer switch, and to the breaker box. This involved a lot of googling, and even though the DIY van blogs seemed to say that installing lights would take half a day, it took me the better part of two days. But it’s done, and I’m very happy with it. Fiat lux, motherf***er!

My new favorite public agency is the Southwest Florida Water Management District. Occasionally, if I’d had a few drinks at Ron’s house, I spent the night parked in his driveway. Sometimes I stayed in private RV parks. (This was mostly driven by the need to empty the van’s port-a-pot once a week or so — public dump stations are not easy to find in this area of Florida; the closest was about an hour away.) But mostly, I stayed at campground operated by the SWFWMD. These campgrounds are in big tracts of forested, marshy, watery land, and they are great primitive campgrounds that cost $0. There’s no water, no showers, no other fancy campground amenities, but there is usually one outhouse, and each campsite has a picnic table and a fire pit. They’re basic and beautiful.

My favorite campground is called the Serenova Tract. It’s about 15 minutes from Ron’s house, and the campground is in a bunch of pines and live oaks. Horses are allowed, and on one of the last weekends I spent there, several people with horses stayed overnight and hung up Christmas lights. The next morning, they were joined by a dozen other horses and riders who all went for a morning trail ride through the woods. I was insanely jealous.

The other SWFWMD campground I stayed at was called Cypress Creek. It’s a little farther from Ron’s place than Serenova, so it was my second choice when Serenova was full but my van’s shitter wasn’t. It’s a beautiful spot, with tons of big pines. But right now I’m a little wary of it because the last time I stayed there I woke up from a dead sleep at 4:51 a.m. when I heard someone singing and talking to themselves. (The campground had been totally empty when I got there and still was as far as I could see.) It was probably just someone who had come in on foot and was drinking because it was cold (40 degrees) outside, but it was still a bit unnerving. 

I also have a favorite RV park. I was thinking that my relationship with these places would be strictly utilitarian, and it still mostly is. But out of the three RV parks that I’ve stayed at, there’s one small one called Suncoast that I actually kind of enjoyed: even though I only went there occasionally, the three staff people remembered me when I called or came in, and they often gave me a discount on their regular rates because I don’t use any electricity. They (both staff and most guests) also seem to be taking pretty good pandemic precautions. (I actually saw someone get kicked out of the office when they tried to come in without a mask, something that I’ve never seen in any other business since March!) The place has nice big pine trees, and by the office there’s a table where people put free food that they aren’t using, or occasionally two-day-old bread that someone got from Publix for free. The last time I was there, some people had decorated their campers and RVs with lights and it was kind of charming. I still heavily prefer to be out in the woods by myself and not spending any money, but I’m glad I found someplace pleasant for my once-a-week-or-so sewer/water needs.

I figured out how to stay warm while sleeping. This is a bigger deal than it sounds because a) I haven’t insulated the van yet, so at night, it’s only a few degrees warmer than whatever the temperature is outside, and b) I’m a very cold sleeper. Florida is SUPER WARM compared to any other place I’ve ever lived, but in December, it started getting a little chilly at night: down into the fifties, then the forties, then, a few nights ago, 30 degrees. I’ve camped in near-freezing or slightly-below-freezing temperatures before, but sometimes it wasn’t very comfortable — even with good long underwear and socks and a hat and a zero-degree-rated sleeping bag. But I’ve figured out a system for my bed that uses four blankets, layered like a licorice allsort: a quilt, a heavy wool blanket, another quilt, and a faux-wool blanket. If it gets below 40, I can add my zero-degree down sleeping bag and be not just comfortable but actively toasty, like a baking croissant.

Unrelatedly, I’ve been having a hard time getting out of bed in the morning.

I’ve found that my life in a van is basically like my life has been anywhere else. I work. I sleep. I stay up late reading things on the internet when I should be sleeping. Sometimes I go running or do yoga (while trying not to bump into the cabinet or kick the front console or hit the ceiling). Sometimes I do fun things, like paddleboarding or talking to friends. I make goals and plans and don’t follow through on them, except when very very occasionally I do. But when I’m looking up van stuff online, I often run across photos of people who are #selfemployed #vanlife and the photos of them working are:

A woman is seated propped up on pillows in the bed in the back of her van. The doors are open, framing a view of the cerulean sea, so that you can practically smell the gentle breeze blowing over the dunes. She has a laptop on her lap and is looking thoughtfully out to sea while a cup of tea steeps on a tray that is on the white coverlet of her bed.

Or

A man is seated at the dinette in the back of his van. He has a laptop, a French press, a mug of coffee, and a plate with two scones on it on the table. The table, and in fact the whole dinette with its two upholstered benches, would be at home on a small luxury yacht, and it’s the kind of dinette that you make into a bed at night. The astute, intent expression on the man’s face give the viewer to understand that he is competent and disciplined and never stays up two hours past his bedtime because he’s too lazy to lower the dinette table and rearrange the cushions and put on all his sheets and blankets. We are also given to understand that the electrical system in his van would have no problems handling the power drain of a bean grinder, even though he is clearly parked in the high Rockies — again, with the back doors open, the better to take in the late spring air and see the fresh green of the aspen trees — and it’s often cloudy. Lastly, we are given to understand that he baked those scones himself, because when he’s not working, hiking, lumberjacking, or otherwise living his best life, he enjoys unwinding by baking bread and pastries. (Not in the van; don’t be silly! He bakes outside, over a wood fire.)

(A tangent: Why do so many people have their van doors open in photos I see online? Do they only stay in places with no bugs? If I tried that in Florida, or even Maryland or Colorado half the year, I’d be awake half the night swatting at mosquitoes and/or flies.)

In contrast, a photo of me being self-employed in a van would look like:

A woman is sprawled in an ungainly fashion on her narrow bunk. Her laptop is braced by her lower ribs and propped up with a pillow placed over her gut. The pillow has a cat on it. The windows of the van are covered in silver bubble-wrap, so very little light gets in. Absolutely no doors are open, because the van is parked behind a Dunkin Donuts so the woman can get free wifi and not burn through all the data on her phone plan. She takes a break to heat up a can of Campbell’s soup on an alcohol stove, adding a handful of dehydrated mixed vegetables, to be healthy. As she stirs the soup, she gazes contemplatively out the windshield towards the adjacent parking lot, where there is an IHOP. #vanlife

Or

A woman is sitting in the passenger seat of her van with her feet on the dashboard and her laptop on her lap. Beside her in the cupholder is a steaming Hydroflask full of the cheapest tea she could buy at Publix. The van is parked in a grove of live oaks. Spanish moss sways gently in the morning breeze. Behind the woman, in the dark recesses of the van, sets of clothes are hanging: leggings and a shirt, still sweaty, by the side doors, a bathing suit over the sink, a t-shirt and shorts for sleeping in by the rear cabinet. Several kitchen towels are draped on the driver’s seat and on the dashboard because the cab leaks above the sun visors when it rains, and even though she’s tried caulking it three times, she still can’t get it to stop. #vanlife

The good thing, though, is that I’m still getting work and making a living. I can do it someplace that’s safe, without having to risk my life to do it. And I’m getting paid a fair hourly wage. But then the very terrible thing is that everyone should be able to say what I just said, but so many people can’t: they’re not making a real living through their work, they have to risk their lives to do it, and they’re not getting paid a fair wage.

(Brief interlude as I stare at the ceiling angrily.)

***

Here’s what I’m doing next: I left Pasco County on the 16th. I’ll be in what I think of as “traveling quarantine” until the 30th, staying in a national forest near Jacksonville. (With a couple of stops at state parks to refill water, empty the port-a-pot, and maybe take a real shower.) I’ll be in Maryland on New Year’s Eve and will stay at my parents’ while I insulate the van, build interior walls, and do a bunch of other stuff so that I can call it (mostly) finished. Then I’m thinking of going to New Mexico and spending late winter/early spring there… parked on top of a mesa… sipping a cup of French-press coffee on my white coverlet while I thoughtfully gaze out the open doors of my van… (I really would like to park on top of a mesa though.)

[kathyprior4200]

HAZBINUVA BOSS

A meeting was in progress at the Hazbin Hotel. Five demons were seated around a large wooden rectangular table near where the bar was.  The window and door that Sir Pentious’ machine had blown up were now repaired thanks to Alastor. (The door now had an elaborate skull with antlers hanging above the door frame.) The group sat in high-backed leather chairs with spikes on the rims. A pentagram was in the center of the table, drawn in white. Charlie, the blonde haired princess was standing up and writing words down on a whiteboard. Vaggie sat in a chair close by, glaring at everyone else with her gray hands clasped together on the table. Angel had his long legs propped up on the table off to the right. Alastor sat in-between Husk and Niffty. Husk moved further away from them and then stopped when Angel inched closer with his chair. In front of everyone were bowls of fresh Jambalaya, almost finished.

 “Thank you so much for making your meal for us,” Charlie said with a smile, turning from the board.

 “Anytime, dear!” Alastor replied. “I had used up a lot of my magic and I figured all of us would be hungry. Figured it’d be a great way to celebrate the start of your Haz…Happy Hotel!”

 “Wow Al!” Angel exclaimed. “That was some delicious grub!”

Everyone nodded and hummed in agreement. Even Vaggie had to admit it was delicious.

 “Thank you,” Alastor said with a smile. “It’s my mother’s special recipe…I even put in gunpowder for an explosive effect!” He laughed. “That was what almost killed her. She had too much Southern Comfort and decided to pour gunpowder while the jambalaya was in the pan…it blew up in her face! I tried it and the kick was straight outta Hell!”

 “Oh my,” Niffty said with a brief gasp. “You really should be more careful next time. It could leave a big mess.”

 “I try my hardest, dear,” he said to Niffty, which caused the small cyclops demon to blush.

 Alastor continued. “Did you know that hunters in Louisiana would often add game meat to their dishes? Deer, duck, and other animals they hunted. I did it all the time. Venison was my favorite…but human flesh gave it that extra flavor that was simply divine!”

 Vaggie, Angel, and Charlie made disgusted faces. “Can we please not bring that up?” Charlie asked, coming to sit down.

 “But I just did,” he replied nonchalantly.

 Vaggie stared hard at her bowl, eye twitching, fearful of finding any part that may have looked vaguely human. Niffty had licked her bowl clean…literally. Husk was busy drinking another bottle of booze.

 “What the flying, fuck, Alastor?!” Angel stated. “I love your looks and all, but try and tone down on the cannibalism.”

 Alastor leaned in slightly closer to Angel. “I read somewhere that some people on Earth consume insects in their diet. Including spiders.”

 Angel’s eyes widened in fear, but soon, his pink pupils dilated. “You would…try and eat me?” he asked with a grin, pink gloved hand moving just a hair toward his dick.

 Alastor deciphered what he was implying and replied with a haughty “No. Not in that way.”

 “Your loss,” Angel called as the Radio Demon moved away from the white feminine dressed spider.

 Vaggie narrowed her eyes a Husk. “Can we at least not drink during a meeting?”

 “Hasn’t started yet,” Husk replied, not even looking at her.

 Vaggie mentioned to the bar with her spear. “That bar shouldn’t even be here!”

 “I think it’s a necessary thing to have,” Angel replied. “Gotta have some liquor to enjoy between the pole dancing performances and stripping and…”

 “The hotel is not a strip club, Angel!” Vaggie pressed on.

 Alastor conjured a glass of Cornac in his hand with dark red magic and began to drink.

 Angel grinned widely, one of his top sharp teeth golden. “See? The strawberry pimp agrees, too!”

 A growl rumbled in Alastor’s throat as he glanced in Angel’s direction.

 “What the…” Husk gasped. “No fair!” He clenched his claws. “I’ve had it with your fucking games and showing off.” He looked like a cat ready to pounce.

 “What’d you plan to do, Husker? Fight me and lose your job?”

 The Radio Demon’s tone was laced with warning. A grumbling Husk got the message and sank back in his chair.

 “That’s what I thought.”

 Charlie banged her fist on the table, getting everyone’s attention. “Alright then! If you all are done with your meals…”

 Alastor snapped his fingers and the bowls vanished. Husk glanced at where his bowl was before. “I wasn’t done yet!”

 “…let’s get down to business with our first group meeting.”

 Charlie in her white tuxedo with a black bow tie, stood up and walked over to the white board. She held a wooden pointer in her hands.

 On the board, the words “Happy Hotel” were written in rainbow letters. Random drawings of unicorns, puppies, flowers, and smiling stick figures of demons decorated the board off to the side.

 “First and foremost, welcome to the Happy Hotel! I’m Charlie and I’m the founder of this place. How about we introduce ourselves?”

 “Babe, we ain’t kids ya know,” Angel remarked. “Besides, I already know the names of you guys.”

 “And frankly, I could care less,” Husk added.

 “I am Alastor, the Radio Demon! Pleasure to meet all of you!”

 “That radio voice of yours is getting on my nerves,” Vaggie muttered under her breath. “That wasn’t even necessary.”

 “What was that?” Alastor asked with a tilt of his head. “Speak up. Say it a bit louder for the people in the back.”

 Charlie looked at Vaggie who pointed to something on the board. The look in her eyes was telling Charlie to move on.

 “O-okay then,” Charlie said. “With the introductions over…ground rules!”

 Vaggie nodded and gave her a thumbs up.

 “Rule number one: Treat each other the way you want to be treated. Be kind to each other or at least tolerant.”

 Angel smirked. “Easier said than done.”

 Alastor rolled his eyes and laughed.

 Charlie put her hands on her hips. “You guys think this is all a joke, but I don’t. If you want to stay here, then you have to put in some effort. Even if it’s little steps every day.”

 “Like I said before, you can’t baby us into good behavior,” Angel said. “Are we like your students or something?”

 “Clients, yes,” she replied.

 “You’re just a teen, darling,” Alastor added. “You don’t have any experience with being formerly human or know about how Hell really works. I’m surprised you made it this far after your entertaining fiasco on the picture show.”

 That hit her hard. Alastor grinned in amusement at the stunned look on her face. His laugher rang in her ears (if she even had any).

 Charlie had dealt with snide comments like that for many years. Helsa and Katie Killjoy were the worst, never hesitating to bring her down with comments on her clothing, her silly ideas, or her clown-like appearance.

 “She’s a living joke!” Helsa would say, earning a snicker from her brother Seviathan. “Look at her blushing cheeks and tuxedo. Hey, you gonna juggle demon heads for us, princess?”

 A younger Helsa was standing with a bunch of mean girls by a row of lockers (resembling Zootopia school girls with animal-like features.)

“Hey, look! It’s the gay princess of rainbows!” Helsa called. “I wanna see you smooch those loser girls over there. A love fest for freaks!”

A girl with a white ponytail and glasses whispered to another girl who stretched out her leg and made Charlie trip…papers flying everywhere as their laughter screeched around her.

 “Well, looks like your project is dead on arrival,” Katie Killjoy had said, getting into her face. “How does it feel to be such a failure?”

 “Listen well, Charlotte, because I won’t say this again,” Lucifer had warned her back at home. “If you know what’s good for you, you will give up on your foolish idea and start behaving like an adult.”

“But I am an adult!” Charlie protested, no longer struggling. “And I’ve decided as princess to continue on with opening the hotel. It will be what’s best for us.”

Flames sparked in Lucifer’s eyes. “If you think causing a war is what’s best for us, then you are gravely mistaken. I had high hopes for you all these years. But now…you’re nothing but a failure.”

 “Charlie?”

 A familiar voice cut in. Charlie looked to see concern in Vaggie’s yellow eye.

Vaggie enveloped her gray hand into Charlie’s pale one and gave it a comforting squeeze. The feeling seemed to bring her back from her plaguing thoughts.

She took a breath.

 “Well, that may be true,” she began, regaining her composure, “But my parents taught me a lot about Hell as well as their histories. I know I’m new at this project and I’ve never interacted much with a lot of people. But I’m learning new things every day from sinners like you all. I do my best every day because I know that there is good in every one of you. And I’m not going to give up on my goal. I’m offering you all a second chance; you could start doing the same for me.”

 Alastor was a bit taken aback, if not impressed with how well she recovered.

 “Inside of every demon is a failure,” Alastor sang softly.

 “You don’t know the song, do you?” Charlie spoke up, briefly startling him. She smirked. “And besides, I’m older than all of you. I’m over 150 years old.”

 Everyone stared in stunned silence. Angel’s mouth was open and he breathed “say what?” Booze sputtered from Husk’s mouth and the winged cat demon coughed. Niffty scurried over and wiped up the spilled drops off the table. Alastor’s mouth was almost hitting the floor. But shortly after that, he cleared his throat and added, “You’re beautiful all the same.”

 He winked and Charlie let out a giggle. Vaggie gave a deadpan stare at Alastor, gripping her harpoon tighter in her hands.

 “Rules!” Charlie proclaimed, getting back to the topic. “First rule is the Golden Rule. Be kind and respectful to everyone.”

 Rule number two: No drinking during the day or past curfew. Angel. Husk.”

 She stared at them. “You better be listening.”

 “I’m listening,” Husk said. “I just don’t care.”

 “I can take that booze away from you,” Vaggie said.

 “Try it bitch.”

 “Enough, enough! Rule number three: no drugs of any kind. Angel.”

 “Rule number four; no distributing porn. Again, Angel, take note of this.”

 “For fuck’s sake, sugar!” Angel replied. “You trying to make my life miserable here?”

 “Do you want to stay rent free or not, bastard?” Vaggie added.

 “Touché,” Angel said, calming down.

 “Rule number five: No murdering or harming any guests or staff members. Applies to everyone. Especially Alastor.”

 “What?” he said with a chuckle. “If I wanted to hurt anyone here…”

 “You would’ve done so already. We get it,” Vaggie yelled, walking over to him, spear at the ready. “Bullshit. If you won’t take that rule seriously…I can make sure that you do.”

“Rule number six, no swearing.”

 Husk let out a series of cuss words in response.

 “Vaggie, Husk, and Angel Dust, this rule is for you.”

 None of them looked happy about it.

 Alastor looked smug in his seat. “That’s one rule I don’t have to worry about.”

 He appeared next to Charlie after materializing from shadow. He placed her hand son her shoulders. “But what’s say you? You’ve let out some swear words as well. I heard you on the picture show.”

 Charlie looked flustered. “Y-yes, I know. I’m working on that too.”

 Alastor cupped her cheeks and tilted the corners of her mouth upwards. “No frowns allowed, dear. That’s another rule.”

 “Get away from her, you psycho!” Vaggie called, holding her spear and walking beside Charlie.

 “It’s okay Vaggie,” Charlie assured.

 Alastor poked the girls’ noses and materialized back in his seat.

 “Rule number seven: respect personal space at all times. Applies to everyone. Especially now that there’s a pandemic going around.”

 Alastor nodded. “A very important rule to have. The six foot rule! Angel Dust over there will have to follow it if he wants his fingers to stay intact.”

 Angel backed up in his seat.

 “But you will too, Al,” Charlie mentioned. “Just because you don’t like to be touched, doesn’t mean you can just touch others whenever you want.”

 Charlie felt cold hands wrap around her waist. She glanced down and they were long and black. The air behind her felt cold and hummed with dark power. She looked back and stared into a shadowy face with blank teal eyes and a creepy teal grin.

 “Argh!” Charlie jumped back in fright. Alastor’s shadow vanished.

 “Don’t do that, Alastor!”

 Alastor chuckled. “I didn’t touch you or anything. Surely, the no touching rule doesn’t apply all the time. How else would we dance and have fun?”

 Charlie sighed, “Good point there.”

 “Splendid!”

 “Alright, now onto a list of possible solutions and goals to work toward. Vaggie helped me with this list.”

 Charlie walked around the room and passed out identification papers unique to each individual that listed the subject’s dates of death, their sins and rehabilitation strategies. Extra copies were kept in a folder in Charlie’s desk.

 “No sharing any personal info,” said Charlie. “Anyone who wants to talk about personal issues can do so in their own time.”

 Everyone looked at her with appreciation in their eyes.

“To briefly list them out with Vaggie’s help:

 “Angel Dust: drug therapy and gradual lessening of the cocaine and angel dust. Only drinking in the evenings or every other day. Frequent injections of medicine for sobering effect. Refrain from doing turf wars. No use of guns and weapons permitted in the hotel unless for self-defense. Rewards for cooperation include: staying rent free, making new friends, payment as progress goes on.”

 “Alastor: No invading other people’s space. Any murder, harm or demonic possession will result in dismissal and use of harpoon weapon. Use of dark magic on anyone is prohibited. No making deals with anyone. Rewards for cooperation include: jambalaya, jazz dances, singing, and the willingness to hear dad jokes.”

 “Husk: No stealing or hoarding liquor or any alcoholic beverages. We know that you do. Try and spend more time for alternative activities such as magic shows and similar gambling games that involve either less money or fake money. Rewards for cooperation include: catnip, weekend booze, money, and extra alone time.”

Charlie had written the next part for Vaggie:

 “Vaggie: Take deep breaths and focus on me whenever temper arises. Refrain from swearing and killing if possible. Have faith that this project will work and keep supporting me. It’s much appreciated. Reward: new friends and spending time with me.”

 “Niffty: don’t lift others up or cause any chaos. We know you’re capable of murder as well, so same rules: no murder, apply. Stalking men will result in a warning. Keep up the cooking and cleaning but don’t get too carried away. (rumor has it that you and Husk dispose bodies for Alastor, so watch your backs.) Rewards for cooperation include: spare time for reading, writing, and sharing fanfiction.”

 Charlie glanced down and saw a section of advice for her written by Vaggie:

 “Charlie: Refrain from swearing and getting too involved with the lives of other clients. It will take a while for demons to get redeemed, let alone go to Heaven, so be patient. Don’t be afraid to be stern and strict when necessary. You see the good in everyone, so bring out all their good traits while acknowledging the bad. Never give up on your goal, no matter what others may say. And most importantly:

BE CAUTIOUS OF ALASTOR.”

 Charlie smiled at Vaggie who smiled back genuinely. She mouthed “I love you,” and Charlie did the same.

 “Well, that pretty much covers it,” she said brightly. “We plan on having weekly meetings whenever we can. If any of you wish to talk about your personal issues, you can speak to me in private for a session.”

 Vaggie nodded.

 “Now…onto the fun part! The games I planned out!”

 She held up drawings.

 Vaggie groaned and facepalmed.

 “Karaoke nights! Bingo! Strawberry cake desserts and cupcakes to share! Demon Dance Revolutions on stage! Bring your pets to work day! Arts and crafts and meet and greets! Sociological issues in Hell with Vaggie. And every Sunday, tales of Heaven and happiness!”

 Now everyone had given up on taking her seriously. Some even began fidgeting or standing up to leave.

 “I’ll stick with pole dancing,” said Angel.

 “And gambling,” said Husk.

 “Don’t forget dad jokes!” Alastor added.

 “18+ fanfictions to share,” said Niffty. “My favorite: When Vox, Sir Pentious, and Alastor Cared for Me in Bed!”

 Everyone gasped in surprise and disgust. The group parted ways, agreeing to meet back in the lobby.

 Alastor briefly walked out of the room and up onto the balcony. His staff lit up.

 “Hello there, you fabulous sinful folk! It is I, Alastor the Radio Demon coming to you live from…”

 He briefly looked behind him to see that Charlie wasn’t watching,

 “…the Hazbin Hotel! What is it, you ask? It is a unique little joint run by Princess Charlotte that aims to rehabilitate sinners. Yes, what a crazy idea indeed, but apparently, she already has a few clients waiting to stay there. It’s been getting boring around here and I think the princess and her friends could use some extra company. If you’re looking for a place to stay, or to hang out, or if you simply want to try and be a better person only to fail miserably at it…come on over! And it’s free as well!”

 He laughed and basked in his glory. Keeping his promise to Blitzo, he added,

 “…If you ever want demons or even humans to die after doing you wrong, contact the Immediate Murder Professionals. A lovely trio of imps in Imp City, they’ll kill your intended targets anyway you wish, both in Hell and on Earth! Decapitation, disembowelment, suffocation… you name it, they’ll do it. Goodbye humans, hello justice! Bonus: kids die for free!”

 He snapped his fingers and a jazzy version of the I.M.P. Jingle played on air.  

 “I’ll see you around next time, here on 66.6FM. And as always, smile and stay tuned!”

 The staff blinked off.

 “Alastor?” Charlie called from inside. “What were you doing? I heard some music out from the balcony.”

 Alastor turned around. “Hello, my dear! I just came out for some fresh air.”

 “Where you just on the radio?” she asked.

 “Yes. Nothing much, just advertising your hotel to the public.”

 Now it was Charlie’s turn for her jaw to hit the floor. A mixture of elation, surprise, and nervousness spurred through her core.

 “Y-You what?”

 Alastor laughed. “I did say I wanted to help, didn’t I? So I figured, why not spread the word to a wider audience?”

 Charlie smiled but was also shaking. If it was true, then now everyone would know about the hotel. Including Helsa, Katie, her parents…

 On the one hand, it was the start of a dream come true. More people would folk to the front doors in the hopes of possibly redeeming themselves in the future.  

 On the other hand, she’d now be a potential laughing stock for everyone in Hell. Her embarrassment at the news station was awful enough. Now there could be more demons out there who would dismiss her idea just like that.

 In the back of her head, she wondered about the other overlords. Would they be willing to come to the hotel as well? Could they track her location and harm her when she was by herself?

 And what would her parents think of this? The last thing she wanted was another lecture from her father of how her plan seemed unreasonable, ridiculous and a waste of time.

 But then again…she had her friends with her. She had Alastor to protect her. If she wanted to prove herself, she would have to get started somehow.

 “Thank you, Al. I don’t know what to say,” she finally said.

 “Think nothing of it, my dear. More people means more entertainment, doesn’t it?”

 Charlie walked back inside, soon surrounded by the others. She stared into each of their eyes and saw something she’d never thought she’d see: sparks of hope and support. Genuine smiles on their faces, even for Husk. Each individual leading different lives but all connected together in a strange bond. A band of misfits, brought together by herself and fate. The downtrodden brought to a place of comfort, where they could be themselves while working toward getting into paradise.

 It was the start of something special. Of potentially making a difference and changing her world.

 “Charlie?” Vaggie asked.

 “Yes,” she said.

 Vaggie mentioned to the door. A series of knockings could be heard. Charlie walked toward the door, hesitantly reaching for the handle before swinging it open.

 A pair of three imps and a hellhound stood in the doorway. The one in front had a white and red face with yellow eyes, long curved horns and a black mark on his forehead. The shorter imp to his right had white hair, a red face, yellow eyes and shorter horns. Both of them wore navy blue business suits, their long pointed red tails behind them. The other imp was dressed in a black tank top with torn pants. She had lone eyelashes and eye rows, plus a red face and wild black hair. Finally, the white furry hellhound was dressed in street clothing: torn short pants, a spiked collar around her neck and a tank top held in place with string shaped like a downward pointing pentagram.

 “Can I help you?” she asked.

 “Is this the Hazbin Hotel?” asked the imp in front. “The Radio Demon kindly advertised our company and so we decided to see what this Hazbin business is about.”

 “No, this is the Happy Hotel,” she said, confusion etched onto her face.

 “The sign up there read Hazbin,” said the shorter male imp.

 The first imp spoke. “So you’re the princess that the Radio Demon talked about. Redeeming sinners, right?”

 Charlie scratched the back of her neck. “Yes.”

 Blitzo laughed. “My, that’s a first when it comes to hilarious ideas. And I thought Stolas was crazy in the head.”

 Charlie flushed, eyes downward.

 “But hey, don’t worry, we’re just here for a visit. At Alastor’s request.”

 Those words sent an unforeseen chill down her spine. He wondered what he meant by that.

 Making an effort to be polite, she held out her hand. “I’m Charlie.”

 “Blitzo!” said the imp in front, shaking her hand. “The o is silent. Head of I.M.P. This is Moxxie, Millie, and my dear Loony. May we come in?”

 “Sure.”

 Blitzo proudly walked in, followed by a grumpy Moxxie, an excited Millie and an indifferent Loona.

 Vaggie gasped in shock as the group came in. Angel, Husk and Niffty soon took notice.

 “Hello there good friends!” Alastor greeted. He had clearly been expecting them. He turned to Niffty. “Niffty, it’s your turn to make some jambalaya for our new guests!”

 “I’m on it!” she beamed before dashing of toward the kitchen.

 “Jamba-what now?” Moxxie asked.

 “Jambalaya, a Creole specialty dish from New Orleans. Rice, shrimp, vegetable, meat, and fresh flesh mixed in if you prefer.”

 “Sounds ravishing to me!” Millie said.  She looked around at the hotel. “Wow, this place is quite something! It may not be the fanciest one but it’s better than the slums and halfway houses in Imp City.”

 She turned to Blitzo, “Blitzo can we please stay a night or two?”

 “No Millie, this is a place for sinners, not for us hellborn. Besides, we’ll have to go back to headquarters once our visit is over.”

 Millie pouted a bit.

 Moxxie folded his arms. “Getting sent here for a ”meet and greet.” Pathetic. We’re treated like dirt day in and day out by Hell society. Why visit a random hotel down the pit?”

 “Because,” Blitzo said, eyes shining. “Alastor promised me a taste of musical theater and entertainment. The two of us on stage!”

 “That’s right!” he chimed in. “I heard about I.M.P. on the picture show. It was the least I could do to show my support. And here I am supporting Charlie with her hotel. It does feel good to help out others.”

 Charlie cupped her face and beamed in delight. Millie and Niffty stood and giggled as they watched Alastor from a distance. Vaggie and everyone else looked suspicious. Vaggie seriously doubted that Alastor actually meant what he said. He was only concerned about entertaining himself and using others for his benefit.

 Blitzo and Moxxie exchanged worried looks. The hidden mark of Kalfu and Alastor hummed inside their heads. The three imps were, in fact, summoned to the hotel just after Alastor’s announcement. Loona quickly tracked them down, almost pulled in after then as well. She, too, felt a pinch of dark energy inside her.

 Moxxie opened his mouth speak, but no sound came out. He tried to use his hands for sign language, but a dark shadow seemed to hold his fingers in place. A look of fear was etched onto his face. He stared at Charlie, desperate to tell her, but he could only blink and move his eyes. Charlie was oblivious, of course. Vaggie and Angel were merely concerned. Niffty and Husk felt the same energy pulsing from inside their heads like a dark heartbeat. They knew that just like the newcomers, they couldn’t do anything but wait and watch. By the time the others figured out they had made deals with Alastor, he’d probably brush them aside, having no use for them. There was no way to tell, so they stopped thinking about it.

 “Is something the matter, good sir?” Alastor asked, grin stretching slightly.

A flash of a recent memory at headquarters…

 A very slow “Shave and a Haircut” knock filled up the silence. It came from behind the door that led to the hallway.

 Loona and Husk froze, maws open in mid-brawl. Moxxie raised his eyebrows and suddenly started to shiver. Millie and Blitzo suddenly felt an oncoming sense of dread. Husk crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. Niffty, however, clapped her hands in excitement. She took some steps forward, but froze at Moxxie’s glare.

 “Do not answer the door,” Moxxie whispered in a harsh tone.

 Niffty stared in confusion. “Why not? He’s my friend.”

 Moxxie narrowed his eyes.

 “From the other side!” Niffty emphasized.

 “Just don’t go any further.”

 Niffty grinned and tiptoed closer to the door.

 “No, no, no,” Moxxie breathed, moving his hands across in a signal. “Stop right there.”

 Niffty stopped and slowly reached her thin black hand toward the round handle.

 “Oh for Lucifer’s sake!” Blitzo announced, walking toward the door. “It’s Niffty’s coworker. How bad can he be?”

 He opened the door and grinned. “Hi I’m Blitz…”

 His eyes widened and his face fell.

 “…o.”

 Blitzo stared at a towering tall demon wearing a tattered red dress coat with vertical thin stripes. Burgundy colored pants covered his legs and ended in red patches along the ends. He wore black dress shoes with red deer print marks on the soles. His undershirt was red and had an upside down black cross as part of the design. A black bow tie was displayed below his slender neck. One of his four clawed hands held a red vintage microphone staff.

 Blitzo stuttered, at a loss for words. Fear was constricting his throat. He stuttered as he looked up at the man’s face, “Welcome…”

 Blitzo stared at the man’s red and black hair, with large deer ears and antlers. His large red eyes blinked to life from a pale face. A monocle gleamed under his right eye.

 “…to…”

 The man displayed a grin of sharp yellow teeth, his smile too wide to be considered natural.

 “…I.M.P…”

 The demon opened his mouth, “Hell…”

 Blitzo slammed the door, catching his breath. He opened it a crack…

 “…o!”

 Closed it again. “Guys…” he began.

 “What?” Moxxie asked in frustration.

 “I think we need to move away. Niffty, could you please send your friend away? He’s giving me the creeps.”

 Niffty shook her head.

 “Don’t let him in, sir!” Moxxie said. Husk nodded in agreement.

 Millie gasped, “That’s a rude way to treat a guest!”

 “Okay then, do you want to open the door?”

 Millie gulped.

 Blitzo sighed and opened it again.

 “May I speak now?” the man asked.

 “Sure, whatever,” Blitzo muttered.

 The overlord swooped into the room. “Greetings fellow sinners! I’m Alastor but people call me the Radio Demon. I heard from my little darling Niffty that you imps are part of an assassination organization, yes?”

 Blitzo took a deep breath and cleared his throat. A smile appeared on his face, now that he was feeling confident. “That’s correct, good sir! I’m Blitzo and I’m the founder of the Immediate Murder Professionals, I.M.P. for short.”

 Alastor laughed. “What a clever name! I.M.P. run by imps! And who are your associates?”

 Blitzo mentioned to the other imps, “This is Moxxie and Millie.” Millie waved and blushed while Moxxie glowered.

 Loona looked up from her phone.

 “…and this is my sweet daughter, Loona,” Blitzo finished.

 Loona growled and snapped her teeth at Alastor, causing him to take a step back. Retaining his composure, he continued. “That little maid is Niffty, and that cat over there is Husk. I saw your commercial on the picture show and was intrigued. Murdering people in gruesome ways…a classic form of entertainment! It even makes my methods look standard. All thanks to Niffty for finding your location.”

 Niffty smiled and waved.

 “Next time, don’t mention Imp City in the ad,” Moxxie spat at Blitzo in a low voice.

 Alastor walked slightly closer to Blitzo, leaning in. “Is it true that you have access to the living world?”

 “Uh…yes?” Blitzo answered. He felt Alastor’s fingers make their way along his curved horns. Despite himself denying it, Blitzo felt his cheeks go pink.

 “And you can create portals? Splendid, indeed. There’s no other being in Hell who can do that.”

 “Smooth liar,” Husk muttered from a distance.

 “That’s right!” Blitzo replied. “Our company has special access to the living world due to our abilities. I may have also stolen a Satanic ritual book from a bird dick overlord several days ago. Top secret.”

 Moxxie’s face turned purple, he made the hand signal for “zip it!” to Blitzo, but of course, he wasn’t paying attention.

 Alastor smiled and put a finger to his lips. “Rest assured, whatever happens here, stays here.”

 He waved his hand and two bottles of booze appeared in front of Husk.  

 “You might think you can keep getting away with bribing me like that…” Husk said, narrowing his eyes, “…but we both know you can!” He picked up a bottle and started drinking. Loona snatched the other one.

  “What exactly are you doing here, anyway?” Moxxie demanded to Alastor.

 “Why I’m here to help out your company, of course! I’m already involved in helping Charlie with her hotel, so I figured I could expand my horizons.”

 The Radio Demon walked over to Millie. “Hello, dear, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

 He gently kissed her red hand, making her giggle.

 Moxxie slapped his hand away. “No one touches my wife, you got that?”

 Alastor just shrugged and walked toward the table.

  “Don’t you walk away from me, Mister!” Mooxie stood from his chair and walked over to him. He pointed at his chest, making the demon’s smile more strained. “You look like a shady showman to me, so listen here. You have no business whatsoever in interfering with our company. Or messing around with my coworkers and my boss. So, don’t go around harming anyone here, or we’ll kick you out of our office…or just slice you to bits, Dapper Deer!”

 Alastor just laughed softly. Millie and Blitzo walked over to calm Moxxie down.

 “If I wanted to hurt anyone here…” Alastor said…

 He then spoke in a creepy tone: “I would’ve done so already.”

His eyes turned into red moving radio dials and the air filled with radio static and floating red voodoo symbols.

 He shook his head and the sensations ceased. His eyes returned to normal. “So, now let’s talk about how I can help you out.”

 “What?” Millie asked.

 “How can I be of assistance? You want donations? Promotion? An upgraded outfit?”

 Blitzo scoffed, “My outfit is great enough as it is. But… you said something about promotions?”

  Alastor nodded. “You ever feel like your work goes unrecognized?”

 “Yeah,” Blitzo replied. “People do come to us a lot to murder people, but…”

 Alastor tilted his head…

 Blitzo continued, “…but the imps and residents here look down on us. Not to mention even the sinners brush us aside like we’re trash. That’s why we’ve kept to ourselves a lot. We imps have to stick together…and hellhounds, too.”

 Loona rolled her eyes.

 “But your company is so unique, and with such special access, I don’t know why others would look down on you,” Alastor mentioned. “Whoever those horrible people are…who are they?”

 “My asshole father,” Blitzo said. “He’s kept me from achieving my musical theater dreams.”

 Alastor placed a hand on Blitzo’s shoulder. He spoke in his sympathetic tone, reserved for making others feel at ease.

 “Oh, believe me, I’ve been there. I’ve loved singing and music ever since I can remember. And my dad…well it’s a long story, too tragic to go into. Have you ever thought of…killing the person in your way? It’s surprisingly simple, and you of all people should know.”

 “I…um…”

 Moxxie nodded. “I had a dream that my parents were being murdered, and I wanted to get back to that.”

 “What if I told you…there was a way for your dreams to come true?”

 “That’s impossible,” Moxxie scoffed.

 Alastor appeared behind him, from his shadow form, making him jump. “I don’t think so! I can do so many things for your cause.” He stood in front of the three imps. A flaming bag of money appeared in Alastor’s outstretched hand, in front of Blitzo’s eyes. It changed to fiery silhouettes of Blitzo, Moxxie, and Millie dancing to the clapping of a crowd coming through his microphone. “This may seem like a bit much, but so far, you’re a well-established company.” The I.M.P. logo appeared in his hand before he closed it. “I could improve you ads, extend your business to Pentagram City, all under my protection. Imps won’t have to be the lowest of the low ever again.”

 Blitzo and his associates looked at each other, lost in thought. Alastor’s grin grew wider.

  “Do you really want to give up this golden opportunity?”

 Moxxie paused. Blitzo found himself shaking his head. Millie smiled at Niffty and Husk nearby.

 Alastor turned to leave. “Well, it was worth a try. I could give you some time to think about it…it was only a suggestion.”

 He slowly walked toward the door. “3…2…1…”

 Blitzo’s eyes went wide. “No, no, wait! Don’t leave.”

 Alastor turned his head, smile wide. He turned back to them and held out his right hand. “So, do we have a deal?”

 “No deals!” Moxxie yelled, pulling Blitzo away. “There’s something shifty about this guy. The stuff he says is too good to be true.”

 “You sure about that?” he asked. “Perhaps I need to persuade you a little more…”

 He snapped his fingers and the table and pictures vanished. The room turned a dark purple and the floor became wooden like dance floor. Deer antlers and voodoo symbols lined the walls in neon colors. The posters now showed deer with black bloody circles in place of eyes. Alastor’s outfit changed into a red suit, with a red top hat with pins sticking out. Soon, everyone was wearing attire from the early 1900s: dapper dresses and round hats of purple, green and yellow for Millie, Niffty, and Loona, and suits of light blue, white and black for Blitzo, Husk and Moxxie.

  “Take it boys!” Alastor called, snapping his fingers. Shadow spirits emerged from a newly created portal in the ground. One played a saxophone, one a trumpet, and the other played the drums.

 A jazzy remix of the I.M.P. jingle played. Moxxie and Millie danced and spun around in the spotlight as the music played. Husk and Moxxie glared at each other in a corner. Niffty smiled and danced along, while Loona stared at her phone again.

 Alastor mentioned for Blitzo to come on stage and sing with him. Blitzo blushed and slowly made his way next to him.

  Alastor sang through his vintage microphone, which lit up.

   “When you want somebody dead,

And you wanna poke fun at their head

Call the Immediate Murder Professionals

 Whether homicide or genocide

We’ll make it look like suicide

Immediate Murder Professionals

 We do our job so well

‘Cause we come straight up from Hell

We’ll kill your husband or your wife

We’ll even let you keep the knife

 The Immediate…Murder…Professionals

 The song was followed by an electro swing solo and a repeat of the verses.

Blitzo was lost in a blissful trance as he and Alastor spun around in a dance.

 They both stopped to catch their breath as the music slowed to a relaxing jazz melody.

 Alastor held out his right hand. “What’d you say? Won’t you shake a poor sinner’s hand?” The area around him glowed an eerie green and a strange wind gusted.

 Millie ran over and eagerly shook his hand. “I accept! Thank you for your help!” In the shadows, Moxxie was pulled toward Alastor by black tentacles wrapping around his waist.

 Blitzo stared at Alastor’s hand in front of him. Common sense told him to stay far away from this demon.

 But Millie had shaken his hand already…and he did offer to help them…

 Blitzo’s musical dream was just beginning, and so was his company. Why back out now?

 He slowly moved his hand closer, hovering over Alastor’s fingerless glove- covered hand.

 Loona’s eyes grew wide. Her fur stuck on end and her instincts kicked in. She could smell deceit and evil coming from the demon. She hadn’t thought it would go this far. For the first time, she placed her phone down on the ground. “Blitz!” she called.

 Blitzo briefly looked behind Alastor…and saw his adopted daughter…with fear in her eyes for the first time. He was sure he was dreaming. There was no way magic like this could exist, and surely his daughter wouldn’t show this much concern for him.

 But then again…Blitzo could create portals to Earth, so anything was possible.

 “Anything is possible,” said Alastor, as if reading his thoughts.

 “Don’t do it!” Loona barked. She raced over to Blitzo…only for Husk and Niffty to block her. Husk’s eyes and Niffty’s eye glowed red. “Ahh, the fuck?!” Loona exclaimed, in shock.

 Blitzo’s shaking hand inched closer…

 Moxxie’s hand was forcibly guided to the demon’s other hand by the tentacles…

 Loona growled and swatted Husk and Niffty aside with her paws.

  Blitzo’s hand touched Alastor’s at the same time Moxxie’s did.

“Noooo!”

  The Radio Demon cackled in triumph as Blitzo and Moxxie shook his hands. All three imps briefly opened their eyes wide, all glowing red. Small streams of evil black energy from their souls traveled from each of their mouths and into Alastor’s staff. Husk and Niffty stood up and stared at each other…for this had happened to them as well. All five of them stood still like soldiers, each with too-wide grins on their faces as static and symbols filled the air.

   “No, sir, nothing.” Moxxie replied.

 The pulsing stopped and a shadow was lifted.

 “Very well then. Off we go to the bar.”

 Angel and Blitzo walked side by side, having a heated conversation.

“I’d kill to work for a company like yours, pun not intended,” Angel said. “Being paid to kill people? With all the turf wars I’m in, I’ve killed or hurt dozens of demons. With humans, it’s no problem.”

 “What do you do,” Blitzo asked. “I must admit, your dress is rather…strange.”

 “It’s a suit, thank you very much.”

 “I still like it.”

 “Really? Well, I’m not too surprised. I’m Hell’s number one porn star after all.”

 “What’s that like?”

 “I work for my boss Valentino. He’s the owner of a porn studio not too far from here. I just tell my haters, “It’s my day to be gay.” And to those who wanna fuck with me, they gotta pay me. My services don’t come cheap.”

 “Heh,” Blitzo said with curiosity. “You with Valentino?”

 “Yeah, he’s rough in the bedroom. Doesn’t really care much about me other than me paying him and keeping myself in line.”

 “Sounds similar to Stolas. He sheds his feathers when he’s aroused. We fucked in his palace and I stole a Satanic ritual book to access the living world.”

 Angel grinned. “Oooh! Kinky!”

 “Then I fell down into chocolate cake and tell his queen, “Sorry I fucked your husband!”

 “Damn! And you’re still alive?”

 “I was lucky to hightail it outta there before she could peck out my insides.”

 “Oh, tell me more.”

 Blitzo laughed. “He called me over the phone and told me he wasn’t lonely now that so many people die from the covid 19 virus. Then he was then like, “When I’m lonely, I become hungry, and when I’m hungry… I want to…”

Blitzo continued on with a string of curse words and graphic descriptions.

“...and I’ll leave you screaming….like a fucking baby!”

 Angel stared stunned at what he had told him. “Holy shit. And I thought I was into BDSM. This owl guy could probably intimidate Valentino. Heheheheh. I did the same thing to Alastor as a prank call and he just hung up on me.”

 “Hahaha! I can see why.”

 Charlie and Vaggie walked side by side together, placing their distance from the guys.

 “Stolas…” Charlie said to Vaggie after hearing the name. “It sounds familiar. Oh I remember. He’s Melodia’s husband and father of Octavia.”

 “Who’s that?”

 “Octavia is a princess like me, except she’s a black and white owl. We…we used to be best friends when we were younger. We did typical princess tuff, tea parties, dress up, and the occasional murder. We even went to Hell-World in Gore-rida.”

 Vaggie’s eyes brightened. “I remember when we went there together.”

 “Yes. We posed together in front of the castle and we rode all the rides, too. Oh and the Disney musicals were the best part!”

 The two girls reminisced over the fun times.

 Charlie’s face fell. “But then, as time went on, we grew distant. I started to focus on the Happy Hotel and several other projects that could help out sinners. I encouraged Octavia to join me, but she refused. She thought my ideas were stupid and a waste of time.   After a few years, she started to believe that I didn’t want to be her friend anymore. I told her that wasn’t true but she didn’t believe me. She said that if I were her friend, I would’ve kept in contact with her, dressed more properly and mostly forget about my rehabilitation goals.”

 “That sounds harsh,” Vaggie said. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.” She placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

 “My dad was hoping that our families could be on good terms through a partnership. Not by marriage but by business and friendship. Now we hardly see each other.”

Everyone made their way into the larger area, where they were free to talk or roam around.

   Later on, Alastor and a very happy Blitzo were singing together in the spotlight up on stage. Blitzo now had a fancy dark blue suit with an orange, red tie and two dark top hats over his horns with stitched up smiley faces on it. With a confident grin, Alastor pulled Charlie onto the stage to sing along with them, much to Vaggie’s shock and anger.

 Loona and Husk were fighting furiously over a bottle of booze.

 “That’s my bottle, you bitch,” Husk hissed. “Go buy your own.”

 It’s mine, pussycat.”

 “Homeless furry beast. Go back to the fucking slum where you and the hellhounds belong!”

 “I’ll chase you and rip you apart, you gambling shittalking clown!”

 The two of them bared teeth and claws, swiping at each other and pulling each other’s ears.

 Without ceasing his tap dancing nor letting his smile falter, Alastor snapped his fingers. Loona and Husk were sent to opposite corners of the room, each with a bottle of booze next to them. They both looked stunned before gulping down their bottles with deadly glares.

 Charlie stepped up to the microphone and began to sing:

  “Sing it out

You’ve got to see what tomorrow brings

Sing it out

You’ve got to be what tomorrow needs

For every time that they want to count you out

Use your voice every single time you open up your mouth

 Sing it for the beaus

Sing it for the belles

Every time you lose it, sing it for Hell

 Sing it from the heart

Sing it till you’re nuts

Sing it out for the ones you hate your guts

 Sing it for the winners

Sing it for the sinners

Sing about everyone as you make fresh dinners”

 Alastor’s heart fluttered as he immersed himself in the moment. Focusing only on the sound of her angelic enchanting voice.

 “Oh Charlie, you’re full of surprises, charming demon belle.”

 Meanwhile, Millie and Niffty were sharing stories about guys at their table.

 Millie pointed to Moxxie, who was sitting across a table from Vaggie, both of them staring in envy at the trio on stage.

“That’s my husband, Moxxie. He can be a grump sometimes, but he’s very kind once you get to know him. He made me a song called “Oh Millie.” We sang it together one night when we were out shooting demons on the streets nearby.”

 Niffty beamed. “How romantic! You two spending some great time together. Disposing bodies and dancing in the bloody rain…it’s worthy for a fairytale.”

 “I know!” said Millie. “Blitzo films us outside of work, which drives Mox nuts. Sometimes he can have panic attacks, but I always know how to calm him down. I do love my job at I.M.P. Seems like I’m the only employee who does. Sure, we get into a lot of fights and we live in a crummy area of Hell. But we are a company family, so we stick together no matter what.”

 “Well, I’m very happy for you.” She sighed. “It’s so sexy when a man shows his great power. I mean, look at my boss. He’s conquered a dozen areas in Hell and he has supernatural powers. Husk and I were summoned to this place to assist him. Husk is the bartender and I’m the cook and housekeeper. Man it felt good to be free of the burning lake, you know? Plus…I have a side-job too.”

 “What is it?” She leaned in.

 “Husk and I sometimes dispose of demon bodies after Alastor kills other demons…and we get paid at the end of every week.”

 Millie laughed. “I’m all too familiar with that process. Except we dispose of humans. And on Earth…it’s more risky if you get caught. Down here, nobody cares.”

 “Oh I just love men, so much! Alastor, Vox, Valentino…Lucifer too. If I had my way…”

Her voice grew lower and harmless fire spread over her body,

“I’d clean this hellhole of all the messy chaotic demons, clean up the organs and bathe in the blood. The skins of demons and women would be sewn together to make fashionable outfits for a grand ball. All the men in hell would devote themselves to me and the rest would die in cleansing flame.”

The flames stopped and Niffty shrunk back to normal size. Millie just stared at her for a while.

“Oh and I also want my new fanfiction to be noticed and published. I just fixed it, too. On Wattpad.”

She held up sheets of paper she summoned from fire: “How Vox, Valentino, Lucifer and Alastor Cared for Me in Bed.”

“I wonder what Blitzo and Moxxie are like…”

Millie glared. “Keep my husband out of this, and I’ll support your work.”

“Really? Thank you so much!”

Niffty jumped for joy and ran off to deliver more bowls of Jambalaya. Millie scanned through the papers with a smile. And then a grimace.

“Piece of shit.”

She casually tossed the papers to Loona, who tore them apart with her mouth and claws.

 Moxxie and Vaggie said nothing for a while. They just watched as Charlie took a bow after singing “You’re Never Fully Dressed.”

 “I swear, Blitzo, you keep going off the deep end every day. Why do I have to keep putting up with you and the dumb company?”

 Vaggie watched as Alastor kissed Charlie’s hand, both of them smiling.

 “Charlie, why don’t you stop and listen to me? You’d really risk our friendship…and dare I say it, your life, for an evil dealmaker who shows up at your door?”

 As if they were reading each other’s thoughts, Moxxie and Vaggie glanced at each other.

 “What a bunch of egocentric idiots,” he muttered.

 “No need to remind me,” Vaggie said. “I wish I could slap that stupid smile off that man’s face.”

 “Alastor?”

 “Yes.”

 “You’re stupid if you plan on trying.”

 “Imp, I’ll only go that far if he puts my friend in danger.”

 “I’m Moxxie, lady. I could care less about who you are.”

 “Vaggie,” she growled. She gripped her spear with one hand.

 Moxxie scoffed. “You gonna use that harpoon on me? You best use it wisely. After a single strike, I’d fall dead and everyone would want to get their hands on it.”

 “And get kicked out of this place. No. How do you so much about my spear?”

 Moxxie let out a small grin. “I’m a weapon’s specialist at I.M.P. I’ve been fixing and using guns, rifles, knives, and pretty much anything. I know an angelic weapon when I see it.”

 This time, Vaggie got intrigued. “I’ve kept this with me ever since I fell down into Hell. I didn’t merely appear like the other sinners.”

 She dug into her pocket and showed him one of her daggers. Moxxie studied it with interest. “Appears to be hand-made. Steel blade, slightly worn. You made this?”

 Vaggie nodded. “I also am good at martial arts. Though I haven’t practiced since…well, my previous life ended and I fell from the Heavens. This weapon is my only reminder of that.”

 Moxxie handed the dagger back to her.  “Are you a … fallen angel?”

 “Fallen Exterminator,” she corrected. “I’m stuck here forever just like everyone else. And perhaps I’m destined to die on one of the Exterminations.”

 Moxxie shook his head. “With your intellect and courage…and temper, I doubt that.”

Vaggie didn’t know what to say, other than, “I figured as much.”

 Moxxie then asked, “Have you ever felt like you’re…somehow second best? Like you’re just the sidekick to your boss or friend, stuck in a big company with no one but annoyances around you?”

 Vaggie nodded. “All the time. It always seems to be about Charlie and Alastor. When they’re together, they act like I’m not even there. And don’t get me started on Angel Dust, Husk and Niffty. Angel, fucking son of a bitch drug addict. He jumps into turf wars and made the hotel look bad to the public. He only wants a free place to crash. He doesn’t give a flying fuck about anyone around him, it seems. And Husk, the drinker and gambler…swears as much as me. Called me bitch when I told him to stop hoarding liquor for the umpteenth time. Niffty, that fast little bugger, always hot for men and getting into everyone’s business. And Alastor…urgh! He shoves me aside, slaps my ass, steals my girlfriend away! He’d be dead if he weren’t so powerful. If this goes on too long…”

 Vaggie turned away, angrily wiping a stray tear from her eye. “Just…men are untrustworthy. At least to me. They stole my virginity, stole my life, and now my afterlife best friend.”

 Moxxie didn’t know what to say, he just seethed softly, debating on whether to talk to her or leave her alone.

 “That’s harsh. I’m sorry. I thought I had it hard, with Blitzo stalking me every day, and him using my salary to pay for an advertisement. I live in poverty and listen to musicals…but life’s not bad not that my asshole parents aren’t around.”

Moxxie cleared his throat. “Well, I can say this, having been in Hell for a while. Keep your friends close, your enemies closer. Stick with people you trust, and when you can’t trust them…sometimes you have to roll with the punches and get through the day.”

 He brandished a small black gun and clicked it for show. “Trust your instincts. And when it’s time to fight, don’t hold back.”

 “I won’t, believe me.”

 Her demon form emerged, her white hair fanning out, with eyes forming on it like moth wings. Her pink bow turned into pink horns and her pink x glowed. Purple moth wings made of flame sprouted from her back and an extra pair of insect like limbs allowed her to carry more weapons. Small antennae formed from the front part of her head of hair.

 “I would give my life to save Charlie.”

 “As I would for Millie.”

 Vaggie reverted back to her regular form, the wings and features vanishing.

 “Thank you, Moxxie, I really needed that.”

 “Not a problem.”

 They shook hands before parting ways.

 Charlie ran over and enveloped Vaggie in a hug. “Oh that was such a great performance. It was so much fun being up there!”

 Vaggie had to smile. “You did well up there. Your voice is beautiful.”

 “Aww Vaggie,” she laughed. She planted a kiss on her friend’s forehead, a blush coming to her gray cheeks. Charlie sat next to Vaggie as they listened to Alastor’s dad jokes.

 “Two radio antennas got married. The wedding was good but the reception was awesome!”

 “Boo!” shouted Angel. Everyone else sat in boredom, save for Charlie, Millie, and Niffty who silently giggled. Lonna lifted a middle finger as she stared at her phone.

 Alastor cleared his throat.

 “Knock knock. Who’s there? Radio. Radio who?”

 He then answered his joke in a demonic voice without moving his mouth.  

 “Radio not here I come! Hahaha!”

 “Jeez, even when he’s telling jokes, he gives me the creeps,” Moxxie mentioned to Millie. Millie nodded, half dazed. “Snap out of it,” he shook her as she turned to him.

 “Calm down, Mox. Don’t worry so much.”

  Niffty had gotten a nosebleed and fainted in delight.

 Alastor glanced down. “Somebody please help the little darling?”

 Millie raced over and moved Niffty over to a couch.

   “Radio not, here I come,” Vaggie scoffed. “That’s not even a dad joke, it was a knock knock joke! So terrible.”

 “Like paper is,” Charlie added, with a smile.

 Vaggie playfully elbowed Charlie in the ribs. “Blonde dork.”

 Soon it was getting late. It was time for I.M.P. to go back to their business.

 “Thank you for coming, everyone!” said Alastor. “What a splendid night it was! You’re welcome back here anytime!”

 “Good riddance,” Loona called back, taking a breath of a cigarette and holding a stolen bottle of vodka in her hands. Husk flipped the bird at her as she did it back with both hands. Angel Dust had given her a bag of angel dust, which she hid in her shorts. It didn’t go unnoticed by Charlie but she decided to let the matter slide.

 Loona was the first one out, followed by Millie, Moxxie, and finally, Blitzo.

 “Bye everyone!” Blitzo called out. “Be sure to call us you want somebody gone!”

 “Are you sure you don’t want to redeem yourself?” Charlie asked. “You are an incredible performer and it was so much fun to spend time with you.”

 “Hmm, let me think…no thank you!” Blitzo laughed. “Business is business!”

 Blitzo did one last wave and wink before Charlie shut the door with a sigh.

 “Alright, off to your rooms everyone,” Charlie called. “We have a busy day tomorrow.”

Alastor sent his shadow to guard the perimeter outside, while the group straightened up the lobby before heading upstairs.

 She walked toward a certain red clad demon.

 “Alastor, you changed the sign of my hotel. Why?”

 Alastor looked up from the voodoo doll he was sewing and stood up. “Darling, Happy sounded too immature. It sounds like a name for an overnight rehab center where demon’s reputations are forever tarnished in group meetings and little kid activities. This is a hotel in Hell, for misfits like us. A safe place for them to stay for the night. No other name properly reflects that.”

 “That still doesn’t give you the right to change anything!”

 Alastor shrugged and spread out his arms. “Hey, no need to get so frazzled. I’m just doing my part to help. Though if you don’t want any more help…I can just find entertainment elsewhere…”

 “Nonono! Please…stay,” Charlie begged. “Just…stay out of trouble.”

 Alastor pulled her in for a brief side hug, then pat her head. “We’ll do. Goodnight, sweetheart.”

 He vanished into the shadows without another word.

[alma-berry]

Kit’s secret fire message #8

Masterlist

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

-

vjewfa  sxvjish  qk  hqw  awfvy  cjgrj

(luminous)

-

Kit was arrested mid motion, his black duffle bag hung limply on his left shoulder, half open. He didn’t even notice the three pairs of socks that fell from it, nor his favorite grey shirt which was threatening to follow.

The fire message felt odd between his trembling fingers, like a foreign object, like he never in his life held a piece of paper.

Kit looked at the neatly written letters as if they were holding the answers to every single question he ever asked.. That might as well be true, he thought, if he was right in believing the message was sent by.. Ty.

Ty, just his name sent shivers down his spine, and the memory of the silver of his eyes, crackling with the reflection of the campfire near lake lynn, made Kit’s knees buckle. He dropped his bag on the floor and sent for the wall near him, steadying his legs and his heartbeat.

It’s been over a month since Ty answered Kit’s goodbye with a single “Don’t”, and Kit didn’t know how to respond to it.

The third drawer of his desk was littered with dozens of crumpled letters, heaps of poems that never felt like the right thing to say. On his defense, he never wanted to say the right thing - he just wanted to say what he felt.

Kit went from one emotion to the next in the blink of an eye; the utmost joy of knowing Ty didn’t want him to stay away filled him for a solid week until he realized how unfair it was. He exposed every single beat of his heart, presented it to Ty in the hope he will answer his feelings, or just answer at all.. and all he had to say was “Don’t”?

Then again, Ty never used five words, let alone a full sentence, when he could use one. Kit knew that, and it wasn’t fair of him to expect Ty, who he knew didn’t feel the same about him, to give away his feelings (or the lack of them) after Kit had left him the way he did.

But still, he needed more. When he finally had enough of trying to phrase himself correctly and sent his last poem, tear stricken and drenched in sweat, he fell to his bed and knew that whatever Ty answered, if he even did, Kit had given every last drop of emotion he had in him.

That night was the coldest he could ever remember, as cold as the blinking eye of a demon.

Kit stared at the six words, if they could even be described as words, and wondered what they meant. Was it a joke? No, he thought. Ty wouldn’t do that. Perhaps it was a test. A code. Yes, Kit’s heart leaped. It must be a code. And Ty had given him the clue to decipher it. luminous.

Kit remembered that day in the Los Angeles institute’s library, when they were planning a trip to the shadow market to try and collect ingredients for the spell that was supposed to bring Livvy back. A familiar ache settled itself in Kit’s chest, the same ache that bore Livvy’s name, her mischievous smile, her deep ocean blue-green eyes.

“Ah, Watson,” said Ty. “You may not yourself be luminous, but you are an extraordinary conductor of light.”

Kit’s lips rose just a little as he remembered the words of his own Sherlock.

Not my Sherlock, he started to scolded himself, before he paused. Sherlock. That’s the key.

Kit grabbed the fire message, ran out of the room and headed towards the library, where the only computer, used mostly by him, was installed.

As he made his way through the narrow corridors he heard Jem’s soft voice calling after him.

“Kit? Are you getting ready? The portal will be opening soon”.

Right. Portal. The usual trip to the London institute.

“Yeah I’m almost ready, just need to look something up first” he called and entered the brightly lit room.

The library of the Carstairs manor in Devon was one of Kit’s favorite rooms. There was a feel to it that spoke of endless possibilities, of knowledge Kit could choose to acquire, and not forced to.

He learned, in his time with Jem and Tessa, that his knowledge of the shadow world wasn’t as basic as he thought.. but nevertheless, he wanted to know more. He wanted with all his might to understand these people, these Shadowhunters that he was now supposed to be one of. He wanted to be.

He was scared, at first, that the fact that he is not living with active shadowhunters would mean his training and education will be less than what they could have been, if he lived in a regular institute, or with a regular shadowhunters family. But he couldn’t have been more wrong. Both of his adoptive parents probably knew more about shadowhunters history than any living, active shadowhunter there is. And Jem, as it turned out, was a great warrior. You didn’t think he’d be one, being 150 years old and all, but he was.. and besides, he had Jace.

Kit grinned, thinking about his cousin always made him want to be better. After he skipped the phase in which he was terrified by every little thing Jace had asked him to do (like jump off a tree with nothing to catch him) and actually started doing it, he found that his very annoying distant relative was.. actually a solid tutor.

Kit became better at being a shadowhunter than he ever thought he could be, and he knew that it was thanks to his family.

He did have to go every once in a while to the London institute, though. There were tests he had to take if he wanted the clave to recognize him as an active shadowhunter. That was the reason they were headed there right now.

Kit clicked franticly on the computer’s power button, willing it to start faster. As soon as it did, he opened the browser and searched for the only name that made sense - Arthur Conan Doyle.

He knew the code to decipher Ty’s message must be something to do with the author of his favorite books, so he wrote down every significant and insignificant detail he could find on a stranded piece of paper that he found at the near desk, just as Jem entered the room.

Kit hastily pocketed the two pieces of paper and turned to face him.

“I know, I know. Let me just get my bag..”

Jem looked at him suspiciously but with clear fondness in his eyes. “Just hurry up, Kit.. the portal will open any minute now.. and you know how Evelyn gets when you’re late”, he smirked.

Kit loved it when Jem smirked, it was so out of character for him.

“Yeah yeah, she’ll make me eat some of Bridget’s porridge”, he mumbled, the taste of the sticky goo still fresh in his memory.

“I wonder when did she got so bad at cooking. She was pretty good when I was young” Jem mused out loud.

The truth was, Bridget always gave Kit the creeps. And the fact that she was probably the most ancient thing in that institute didn’t help to improve her image, nor her cooking, as it happened.

“Where’s Tessa and Min? I want to say goodbye before we leave..” Kit stared around him, a bit disappointed that his favorite little monster didn’t come to see him out.

“Tessa just gotten her to sleep, she was running around all morning, trying to skin Church alive”.

Kit burst out laughing “That’s my girl. Plus, he could use the exercise. He wasn’t this lumpy back in LA…”

Kit felt the air catching at his throat as the flood of unwanted memories washed over him.

The beach, Ty’s beautiful fingers against the cat’s grey fur, and Kit’s clenched heart.

Jem eyed him knowingly and patted on his back. “You’re right, son. We shall buy some low fat tuna for him before we return”.

The shimmering lines of the portal had formed in front of them, and without look back, they walked through it.

—

“It is highly rude of you, you know” Jessamine declared.

“hmm? What is?” Kit answered absentmindedly.

“You hardly come to visit me anymore, and now that you have, you pay me no attention! As if I’m not even there!”

Kit have her his most dazzling smile “Well, you are a ghost, you know…”

Jessamine exclaimed as if terribly insulted. “Exactly! I’m.. bored! There’s no one here to talk to!” Kit’s grin widened, “Jessy, even if every occupant of this institute could see you, they still wouldn’t be much of a conversationalists” Jessy eyed him with disdain “As I said - rude. What is it that you’re doing, anyway?”

Kit was sprawled on the floor of the London institute’s library, scribbling simultaneously on five pieces of paper.

“I’m trying to decipher a code” he said with a troubled look.

“A code? Shadowhunters write in codes now?” She sighed “I’m far too old for these sort of things”.

Kit’s laugh felt forced even to his own ears “Not all shadowhunters.. just this one. And I’m not sure I’m making much of a progress with it anyway. I’ve read my fair share of detective novels, mind you.. and I can’t figure out how I’m supposed to crack this..”

Jessamine leaned over him, no- through him, to examine the fire message, and Kit felt as if his insides were suddenly soaked with icy water.

“Hey! Who's the rude one now?” Jessamine gave him a pointed look that made her delicate features resemble Evelyn’s.

“It looks rather complicated. In my days we would just lock our secrets in a safe and be done with it. Why do you modern people have to complicate everything?”

She really did look like Evelyn now, Kit thought, as the meaning of Jessamine’s words dawned on him. Lock their secrets.. Lock.

Kit knew locks, he knew them very well, in fact. He could pick most locks in under thirty seconds, even the complicated ones, those with a code combination. And all of a sudden, Kit knew exactly what he should do.

“It’s like a combination lock! I just need to move the letters backwards alphabetically according to the numbers on the key!”

Kit’s heart was racing, he had it! He was sure of it.

“The key? It’s a piece of paper, Christopher, not a safe, if you hadn’t noticed”

Kit’s hands were trembling and he felt as if his heart was stuck in the middle of his throat.

“A key to crack the code, Jessy. Look, he sent me a clue. Luminous. It’s from Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock Holmes was written by Arthur Conan Doyle. Now, it has to be a number. I have his date of birth, death, when Sherlock was first published.. It can even be the birth date of Sherlock himself but that one is inconclusive. He wouldn’t have used something that is not a solid fact. Right?”

He looked up at Jessamine, who stared at him as if every word he just said was in mandarin. Kit knew a little mandarin, but not enough to make a whole speech. “Nevermind, I’ll try the date of birth”.

Jessamine gave him a long, peculiar look and said “Hurry up, Kit. Jem, Evelyn and miss Mendoza are nearly done with their meeting. If you wish to know what young mr. Blackthorn had written, you must hurry”.

Kit stared at her, completely astonished.

“How.. how do you know I was talking about Ty?” Jessamine gave him a wry smile and started towards the door, “I may not know much about locks or codes, Christopher, but I know about broken hearts,” her voice was soft, and Kit felt it like a faint whisper against his skin, “...and I know you”.

For a few moments, Kit just sat there. His head felt like a beehive of thoughts, bombarding one another with fears anger, confusion and excitement, until one thought became coherent - I can solve Ty’s message.

He slowly places the heavy parchment in front of him, the torn paper with Conan Doyle’s information already in his hand. He began with copying Ty’s message, and under each letter he wrote the numbers of Conan Doyle’s date of birth, again and again, until every letter had its own number. Then he started counting the letters backwards, according to the number underneath it.

V became T, J became H, and so he continued until the first word was completed- Theres.

Kit’s heart was pounding so hard that all sounds around him were momentarily muted. He didn’t hear the scratching noise his pen made on the paper or the soft tapping of the rain on the milky white windows.

He continued to the next word; S became an N, X - O, V - T, J - H, I - I, S - N, H - G.

Nothing. There’s nothing.

Kit’s heart sank. He feared what he would find next. There’s nothing I can say to you? There’s nothing I want from you? There’s nothing between us? But none of those options fit the number of the letters left to decipher, and he felt too anxious to guess any longer.

He took a deep breath and continued. He didn’t pause as the letters formed themselves into a full sentence, didn’t dare to read until the whole sentence was written in front of him, black on white. And if there was any doubt left in Kit’s heart that it was Ty’s message, it had vanished completely.

There’s nothing if you aren’t there

[littlestgahena1301]

Fountain of Youth Part 2

In his home, Katsuki was figuring out if he had everything that he needed. He guessed that it wouldn't be much different than staying with Izuku and Inko but with much more annoying extras and suffocating coddling. He didn't mind some of them, namely one Yaoyorozu Ponytail, an Iida Robocop and also Kirishima Shity-hair.

Not quite sure with Half and Half. Sure, the man acknowledged him, but it might be was said in spite of the moment. Izuku mentioned that there were some extras in his class that asked about his well-being. Izuku told him that people were worried about him, but he didn't pay much attention to who asked and said what.

He heard from Shinsou that he will be joining 1-A so at least Katsuki has one person who won't smoother him as much. Good thing.

For the rest of his days, Katsuki would still be stuck with 1-C and without Shinsou there, Katsuki would have to grow another pair of eyes behind his back and look out for any possible danger. He's not so sure with how they would react — seeing as he was the only person who received special treatment and get to hang out with kids from the Hero courses. Next week won't be pretty, and he wished that the weekends could drag on longer. He wants to be finished with packing and go back to Inko's for some brownies, and maybe Izuku wouldn't be too busy for a quick game with him.

Speaking of which, Izuku hadn't messaged him about anything yet. It's almost 11 a.m., and Izuku was never this late on messaging him. Weird. He did remember that Izuku has training for the day, but he slightly wonders why there was no good morning text or any text in that matter. Deciding that Izuku would come around to doing that later, he moved on to his shopping list.

He spent last night figuring out what he might need in his dorm room. He figured he would mostly end up crashing with Izuku more often than not, but one can never be too careful. It is better to keep things in hand just in case he needs them with some pocket money and savings that he had left for the month.

He gave his account a quick check. Mitsuki banked his allowance into his account every month. Most of the money remains unused since Inko had so carefully provided him with most of the food. He even helped Inko pay bills with his cash secretly, wondered how busy Inko must be busy not to notice that the electric and water bills had never arrived at her house anymore. He gave his list another quick scan.

Do I need a microwave?

Undoubtedly one of the most prestigious Hero School in the world would have enough funds to provide their students with the necessary kitchen equipment. Plus, he is going to be living in the Hero's dorms, which means it's likely to get the best stuff out of all the other dorms. Even so, Katsuki feels like he would be more comfortable using his own, and not having to share with other people who are not Izuku. With that, the microwave stays on his list. He then left his home to go shopping for his list.

 Bakugou emerges through the front auto door with plastic bags in both hands (don't worry, it's biodegradable.) feeling spent after walking down numerous aisles searching for whatever he needs. His microwave, however, was nowhere to be found and he would have to make do with the dorm's until he can get his own.

He ended up with spare bed sheets, towels, linens, a handkerchief, a warm and fluffy blanket for the cold weather, a cushion for his chair and organizing boxes (though he might not have that much to organize anyway). Getting home without all of this falling apart would be an achievement. Bakugou was making his way to the train station when he heard a wailing nearby.

"Mommy?! Mommy?!"

A boy was running around, looking frantic. Passersby just left him be, unbothered to help. He sighed. Who the heck lost their child in the middle of bright daylight?

Bakugou felt somewhat troubled when the child was walking too close to the main road. The boy stopped at a nearby crosswalk, looking at the wrong direction to see that there's no car coming his way. Bakugou heart dropped when he saw a car coming out of the junction and the boy completely missing it.

He dashed forward to yank at the boy away from the street, who fell on his rear and was in complete shock. The car driver noticed and stopped a good quarter of a meter after the crosswalk, the wheels ending just where the boy planned to step. He did not want to think of how things might have ended differently, and thank whatever higher power that exists for his fast instincts kicking into gear when he needs it. He snapped at the driver.

"Yeah yeah, you almost fucking run this kid over! The fuck why you hit a 50 at a junction? You think your fat-ass belongs in Initial-D?"

The driver who is a middle-aged man, (who happens to be not at all fat) tsked at him and drove by, revving the engine a bit too loudly as he went. Bakugou was about to flip the bird at him when he realized that the kid had gone quiet.

"Brat, you okay?"

The boy was in sobbing hiccups. Tears were falling to his cheeks as his body quake with each little squeak of his voice. The boy looks pitiful, and Katsuki felt somewhat repulsed by the amount of snot starting to pour down his nose. What the hell did he sign up for now?

"Get off your damn butt and wipe those snots off your face." He barked. Fucking disgusting.

The boy wiped his snot away but didn't get up. That's when he noticed the child's bleeding hands. Well, of course, he would be bleeding, you yanked him off like he's some animal and now the kid is hurt, of course, he won't get up. Well, this way above and beyond from what he originally planned to do. Well damn, he can't just leave him alone and let the kid kill himself could he?

He grabbed at the kids' shirt and gave it a light tug. "Hey, get up! Up!" he motioned. Avoiding to the kids snotted hands from being near him and keep a strong enough tension to get the boy back up to his feet like he's some prize in a claw machine game. The boy managed to get back up to his feet. His sobs completely disappeared but he tears are still rolling, and the boy wiped it away with his other hand.

The scene attracted quite a crowd and Bakugou resorted to glaring so hard till everybody leaves. One of the audiences gave him a disappointed look, and it makes Bakugou's blood boils. What, you think this is my fuck up?

His attention shifted back to the boy's bleeding hands. He needs to do something about those. Katsuki spotted a vending machine nearby and figured he should get the boy some water to wash the wound. He turned to the little brat. "Wait here, can you do that?"

The boy silently nodded.

And so, Katsuki went.

He returned back to his bags to get his new handkerchief and spent 150 yen on bottled water.

They found a nearby drain to wash their hands at, and the kid thankfully knows what to do without him having to instruct. "Wash your arms too.." he added, and the boy did.

And then he proceeded to use his 500-yen handkerchief on the boy. Whoever the mom is, he might have to charge her babysitting fees out of spite.

Katsuki grabbed on the plastic bags with his left hand and gave the boy his right, not wanting the kid to hold on to the bad hand.

"We'll go to the police station now, okay?'

The boy nodded quietly but midway his detour to the police station the boy starts opening his mouth, and it was fucking unbearable.

"Whats your name? Why is your hair all poofy? Hey, why are you not answering? You talk earlier, so why can't you talk now?"

Katsuki inhaled. "Kid!"

The kid looked at him, shocked.

"Just shut up will ya?" he sighed with the kindest smile that he could manage. Except to the kid, it looked absolutely off-putting.

"Okay…"

Midway trip Bakugou had to stop to exchange hands as the end of his fingertips is starting to turn blue from the cut-off circulation. His palms sweaty as the sun is beating down on them mercilessly.

"Hey, give me your other hand."

Bakugou was very careful enough to not squeeze on the boy's hand, knowing it is still delicate for rough handling. They went like that for the whole trip where he was slightly relieved that the boy's mom was already there drowning in tears while the police officer looked at her apologetically. Huh, like mom like son. Although to be honest, the two of them are reminiscent of how Izuku and Inko is.

"MOM!"

The boy ran towards the surprised woman and was immediately greeted by a warm hug. The scene almost made him miss his own mother.

"Dear heavens, Masaki! Why did I tell you about wandering around?!"

She then proceeded to scold him a good minute before noticing the handkerchief around the hand, and to that she almost shrieked.

"What happened Masaki?"

"I fell, and my hands start to hurt."

Which is half the truth? Katsuki will take that.

"Did you wash your hand afterwards? This is why I don't want you to-" The woman the precariously tried to unwrap the handkerchief but stopped mid-sentence to inspect the hand. A bewildered plastered on her face.

"Strange…" she said, completely forgetting where she was going with her sentence.

The boy looked at his hand who Katsuki noticed was pristine and unmarred like before. It looked soft and supple. He thought the same thing too.

Strange indeed.

"Well that big boy helped me washed it…" he pointed at Katsuki

The mother turned to look at him and gave him a big smile. "Thank you so much for taking care of him."

"Nothing much," he said even though his brain screamed NO YOU DAMN FUCK HE WAS TOO FUCKING MUCH.

The woman proceeded to pay him for the price of the handkerchief with a 10,000 yen, which he isn't going to think about any time soon. I mean, …she offered.

________________________________________________________

 Welp, that's about it. Dead week is two weeks away so I will be on another hiatus starting approximately from now. Thank you @abbystaffyisgeek for the awesome story and being such an awesome inspiration!

Go check out her Baku centric fic called Worse Than Quirkless! It is a very good read, and she's a major queen for updating each week!