Rosey Writes

🍷 - were you a capri sun or cool aid kid?

💋 - what’s your favorite accent?

💄 - what are the best kind of kisses?

🎈 - do you have any party tricks?

💌 - what’s your biggest regret?

🌺 - what’s your type?

🐙 - what are the best kind of hugs?

👄 - what’s something you say a lot?

🎟 - what’s your ideal date?

👅 - are there any words you can’t pronounce?

🌷 - what compliment have you received the most?

💖 - how do you show affection?

💝 - what’s the best gift you’ve received?

💗 - do you blush easily?

💘 - do you get crushes easily?

💓 - do you gesture when you talk?

💞 - are loving someone and being in love with someone different?

💕 - what fictional duo do you and your partner/best friend act like?

🎀 - what’s the most nostalgic movie/tv show/book you can think of?

🧠 - do you have any fidgets?

👛 - do you have a bucket list?

🌸 - what’s the most memorable dream you’ve had?

💒 - have you ever climbed a roof top?

🐷 - what’s your favorite pet name?

[Louis was livid. His hands shook, his heart burned. How dare that man speak to Eliot in that way? Louis knew he had to go, and slowly. He wanted to see the fire die in his eyes as he plunged a weapon into his heart. He wanted to see blood pool out of his neck, beating weaker and weaker until it was a slow trickle.]

[Louis wanted to see him dead.]

[He did not have much time to prepare for the execution, but, he supposed it really did not matter. Such a waste of space did not deserve his time, much less his most prized possessions. All he needed was some of the knifes he found in the Home Ec. room, which he found after only a short while. It was all quite satisfying, feeling the smooth glide of the handle in his palm.]

[They called for blood, these knives did. Or, perhaps it was himself. He had begun to numb his senses already, in preparation. Just as it had been with the knives, finding this human with Eliot, who he had discovered was named Jason, was quite simple. He was a thug. Something he may have to watch out for, but, he knew he would come out on top, perhaps littered with bruises and covered in blood, but holding the head of this disgusting human in his hands. Without the body attached, mind you.]

[He entered the room he was directed to, by the boy with the broken nose. Louis would have felt what little sympathy he held in his heart, but, with Jason’s still-beating heart in his mind, he merely pushed it back. It was unnecessary.]

[And, oh, the toothy smile on his face did not show the anger he felt in his black heart. Words fell on deaf ears as he approached, blue eyes colder than stone.]

Oh, shut up.

[Pulling the largest knife he could find out of his sleeve, Louis drove it towards said organ, the neck. He would get the first hit. He would see him bleed.]

Then, a knife found itself at home between his brass and Jason realized holy shit this guy was trying to kill him.

He’d learned to tell the difference by now. Kinda important as a street fighter. Knowing whether or not someone’s going for a knock out or a final blow and alright this guy was apparently fucking insane enough to challenge Jason fucking Starkweather to a fight.

Then, as he swung his own fist, it occurred to him that holy shit if he hadn’t been fighting this long he would have just fucking died. 

Well that was a nice reality check.

@gatekeepersins

“And if for the blood of past sorrows be taken, the sweat of flesh be live; if the bone of sweet ‘morrow’s be mended, in the name of Maria, of Cupid and Eros alike; in the heart of the time disturbed I call upon you, father, sister and child to raise my hollow body and restore me angels fall.”

Ah, the Tuesday rituals were such a bore. But, that’s what it takes to remain this holy, no?

The man below was still alive, vaguely. Sputtering blood. His brain was dead, spine crushed, but the heart was still pumping and that’s what mattered for this one.

A Rite of Time, his mother called it. To Call Upon Favor for the Stalling of Ages. Or, as he called it, the gross one where he had to kill some guy in a way so stupidly specific he’s sure whatever demon made it was just trying to spite the mortal who demanded it. 

At least he was at the end of it now. Dropping to his knees, he steadied his hands- and stomach- as he pulled his ritual knife, gold blade and all, and began to widdle away, one cut at a time, through bone and skin and flesh, as the dirty turned to sticky mud in the red outpour, until finally, swallowing back bile, he was able to rip the heart still beating from its cage.

Dropping it into the set box in his bag, he genuinly hoped his mother did a better job at hiding the taste this time.

So now he was there, blood splattered and exhausted in the middle of the cemetary, when he heard a twig snap. 

He had just been doing his rounds, leaving his dog in the hut he lived in on site because of this. He never liked to involved his dog in danger because of his work but if it was a bunch of teens screwing around in a graveyard for some extra laughs, a jet black doberman definitely scared preteens back onto the streets instead of in a damn graveyard.

Rituals weren’t too uncommon. Only, it was Sinnclayr who would do them. He had caught some people lighting candles and attempting to conjure old spirits which he had to put a stop to (he already had enough spirits in his head to deal with; he didn’t need more). But this… This was a new one. He couldn’t sense the entirety of the cemetery grounds from his hut, hence why he often had to make rounds to secure the property and he had somehow missed this ritual, as big as it was. He should have been able to feel the energy but he must have confused it with his own and the residual energy from the common spirits in the graveyard. A rookie mistake, honestly. 

Sinnclayr muttered a curse under his breath when he finally saw the ritual, already commenced and underway. He couldn’t stop it now while the man was literally skinning another human and ripping out his still beating heart. If he destroyed the ritual grounds, it would not only hurt the sacrifice but also the witch performing it. He moved forward, as slowly as he could to at least catch him in the act but his entire body tensed up when he heard a swift snap of a twig beneath his foot. Another rookie mistake.

He took a deep breath when he heard the man’s voice, gritting his teeth at the pet name. God, he sounded so condescending. Sinnclayr stepped out of the shadows, his all back outfit helping disguise him. He looked at the man, squinting. He hoped that his red eyes were enough to make the man think he wasn’t just some worker but someone who at least knew something about witchcraft. His red eyes definitely weren’t a common look amongst humans.

It went back further before that, of course, if one was willing to look beyond the ancestory.com listing. If one was willing to stroll through London Catacombs and Byzantine temples, troll the twisted vines of Ireland into the heart of forests still obscured in the thorny thicket of the past.

History, of course, is less certain than we’re taught. That’s the first thing you learn when your rose is inked into your skin, sewed in like a corset atop your veins.  

So, it was fair to say that confrontations under the full moon with men he’s sure must have a dusting of demon inside was something etched into his marrow.

Something mother would be very upset at him for losing.

Within an instant the bag dropped from his hand, ritual knife falling beside it, as his smile stretched wide and white. “I thought I felt something in the air around here,” he spoke, slow, lethargic and warm, dripping from his tongue and settling the ground around like a mist.”

He stepped forward, hands up, in clear view as he followed those blood red eyes. He liked that. Oh he liked that a lot. “I was hoping to get your attention, you know.” With careful, cautious movements, he let his arms fall to his side as he gave a small bow, eyes obscured by red fringe in the silver light. “My name’s Fiyero, I’m here on my family’s behalf.”

-

“Don’t scream so much, love, you’ll hurt that beautiful voice.” 

Fiyero was leaning on the wall beam holding up the curtain, rich red tapestry highlighting his hair like fire. Foot kicked up, a picture perfect model pose, as always. One couldn’t ever be so sure there wasn’t a camera around after all.

A-A gift? For me? But I…

-Unable to find even the proper words to form a coherent protest, Lily followed him, further inside, marveling at the gazebo, the marble within, the entire display, laid out before her as if she’d been welcomed home. But… home to what? She’d never been there before. Why…-

-At the top, Lily noticed the table, the bowl upon it with the spiked center, beckoning to her with a darkened embrace that left her, somehow, completely unafraid. She cast her eyes to the statue, swallowing the knot in her throat as if a thousand eyes rested upon her, waiting. The closer she became, the more the veiny carved rivulets seemed more pronounced, as if it were a heart. All it was missing… was life.-

-Fiyero’s smooth, strong hands brushing across her skin snapped Lily from her reverie, bringing her hazel eyes to his emerald ones. A soft smile and a touch of pink graced her face as he called her his flower, all before he took her face in his hands. Lily saw the darkening of his emerald eyes and swallowed again, her eyes widened slightly as her knees shook. ‘Will you follow me?’ Even his voice had darkened, causing her to gasp, but she never flinched. Biting her lip, eyes still connected, Lily nodded shakily, her hands holding his wrists.-

Y-Yes, I… Forever. 

-An honest admission, even as she trembled from it. Lily knew, deep down, that terror should have existed, but… it didn’t. All she knew at that moment, all that processed, was that she would have gone anywhere for him, followed him into hell itself, because without him would be her own hell.-

-A little closer, and he led her to the edge of the table, moving to stand behind her, his hands brushing her arms and sides so lovingly, Lily inhaled a deep, shaking breath, her eyes now locked on the bowl in front of her. Fiyero’s voice was in her ear, but at that moment, she couldn’t hear him. As if something kept drawing her closer and closer to that golden spike, Lily knew what she had to do. Somehow, she just knew.-

-Without another thought, her hand impacted with the spike, wrapping her fingers around it as blood pooled and seeped from her hand and into the rivulets of the bowl. As if the heart was finally given just what it needed, what it called for. Lily felt as if something was jolting her, much like the spike against her hand, hammering into her memory. Still gripping the spike, her head fell back on Fiyero’s shoulder, her eyes wide but unseeing, unable to utter a sound but gasping breaths as memory after memory seemed to unlock itself from her subconscious.-

-She’d been there before. It used to be her home. Then, she felt the overwhelming sense of love, but unable to see a face. Memories and flashes danced before her, one fleeting after the next. Trials. Tribulations. The Underworld. And finally… release. Then… a wedding? And a name. Psyche. Lily blacked out in Fiyero’s arms.-

-Unable to know how much time had passed, when Lily woke, she found herself cradled in his arms, his fingers running through her hair. Those eyes of emerald seemed even more vivid, sparkling as he smiled at her. Putting a hand to her head, she felt, then saw, the bandage wrapped around it. Then she remembered. Her… her past? That felt right. But she smiled at Fiyero, running her fingers through his hair and curled closer against him, sighing softly.-

I-I remember… everything. What, um… what was that? Did I… did I do something wrong?

-She bit her lip, eyebrows knitted in confusion as she stared around them, almost breathing heavily as if she’d overexerted herself. Lily felt weak, drained, and so, so tired as she held onto Fiyero, inhaling the scent that still brought her the feeling of absolute safety she’d come to love from him.-

Fiyero, I… I don’t know what that was but… I love you, and… and if what I saw was real, then I… 

-Hazel met emerald once more, fierce and determined in the love she held for only him, her next words resolute, echoing against the marble as if solidifying everything.-

The story that spawned the evil stepmother exploiting her daughter’s beauty for her own. The beauty and the beast that trapped her with the skin of gold just beneath the spiny surface. A story of passion above all else, not of true love conquering all, but pure, bloody hellfire burning even gods alive.

Stroking her cheek, laying gentle kisses against it as he smeared a stripe of his own blood across her lips like a binding, he knew, officially now, that hell would burn around them if they so pleased it.

Their blood flowed separate at first, taking different viens as it twisted through the maze of channels and hollows until they began to fuse closer and closer to the center they got, falling through a hole at the very core and flowing through two Pheonix carved peaks, into chalices he’d placed underneath. 

The world was silent around them. The wind had stopped entirely now, sun setting casting a fiery air around. The world, itself, seemed to burn, with the woman beside him- the woman he’d been made to find and bind with- the match that set the flame.

“I’m yours, my love.” When her eyes open, he watched the hazel burn and flicker in the light, as the sun hit its final bloom and fire sparked where the spike once stood, he watched the flames flicker back in the reflection below. 

His actions weren’t his own, as he laid her down on the glittering stone and brought their lips to one.

He held her close, arm around her waist, other cradling her head to bring it closer to his own. It was burning, hot, hot, scorching, hot, as the fire began to ring throughout the field, starting from the fountain and flowing out, flowers sparking into flame. 

He wasn’t letting her go. They would face the fires of hell, they would earn the fire of hell because they were the rightful heirs to passion and blood and he wasn’t letting a mortal thing like that get between it.

[He watched as the young man sat next to him. Louis leaned his face on his palm, eyes lidded, as he began to speak once more.]

[How strange.]

I suppose. Perhaps it was my upbringing that enforced my lack of excitement.

[He had never met anyone so full of energy. It was almost taxing to watch his leg bounce, his smile. It must be exhausting. Though… perhaps he was the sort to have endless supplies of the emotion.]

[Looking down at the too-sweet cupcakes, Louis began to realise why he may have so much energy. The sight of the frosting made his teeth ache, his stomach churn.]

[He decided to leave them for a little. Perhaps Axel would offer to finish them for him. Or, he hoped, at least. Louis was a little more interested in how the young man came across his birth date.]

[…And the answer was almost humiliating. He could hardly believe he’d forgotten.]

I see… you have quite a reliable memory, Axel. 

[Louis could have cringed as he chose to explain further. It seemed his brain had erased the event all together.]

[It was hardly something he should be fussing over, however, hearing the jeers and watching liquid splatter over Axel’s back.]

[Ah, humans. They disappointed him, yet interested him at the same time. Louis fixed them with a chilling gaze. His emotions towards the young man had not yet developed into what they could, however. He was a little more concerned with their stupidity, and noise. For once, could his space be free of imbeciles?]

[It seemed to have affected Axel, however. The cold liquid would not be pleasant.]

Hurry back, won’t you?

[The words seemed to slip out of his throat. He was entertaining, after all. Besides, the colour in his cheeks did endear him a little more.]

[Perhaps… he would prove himself interesting in some time.]

[While the young man was gone, Louis decided to take a bite of the cupcake, which he regretted. Sugar. He suspected he spilt a little more than necessary into the batter, though the bile rising in his throat said otherwise.]

[Still, he swallowed. He could not make a fool of himself if he wanted to stay unnoticed. Though, the eyes on him burned holes where they fell. He could tell Axel’s presence highlighted his own.]

[Someone so bright against someone so dark, filled with secrets.]

[It would provide some issues, if he were to develop an attachment. However, Louis found he did not mind. In fact, he was interested to see how the young man dealt with the ridicule. Perhaps it would provide him a chance to eliminate some of the leeches that suck the life out of his days.]

[Perhaps.]

It’s alright. He liked this shirt but, they could always be replaced. Everything could.

Brushing off a drip of red that went down from the center of his forehead, across his face and split his neck in perfectly matching halves, he smiled. 

He was in gym clothes now, bottoms baggy and too long from Bravon, shirt tight enough to suffocate him and if it was any shorter it’d be a crop top since it used to be Eliot’s. But he was clean now!

It was weird, he didn’t know why there was some sort of cloud following behind him today. Maybe it was just guilt that he left his new friend alone!

This was not acceptable. 

Sparks stared down at the message, head lolling to the side. No. This was not allowed. With the error removal protocol expected, Da Li was supposed to be free to run smoothly. 

Warning: Errors Rong and Min detected. Obstructing system functions. Remove to allow for proper installation. 

Okay. That was an easy fix then. If they were gone, Da Li would function correctly and he could go back to enjoying the upgrade. 

[Txt} Okay! I’ll be there, just text me when you leave! 

He’ll want an empty house for this.

Sparks was used to a steady heartbeat. He’d never felt it rise in his life.

But…it took all he had not to put his hand on his chest to test it.

The library felt empty, now. Endless towering aisles of books became a wind tunnel, air conditioning’s whir drowning out everything else. It was so quiet, so, so intimate, he…with Da Li here….

Suddenly, a heartbeat seemed incredibly human. 

“I’d love you to.” His voice was empty, like someone had knocked the wind from him as he looked into her eyes. He felt not like he was floating, but like there was no ground to stand on, it was tingling, shaking, new and beautiful in a way he couldn’t- he couldn’t even describe. 

“I’d love you to try it more than anything.” Heartbeat, heartbeat, it buzzed in his ear as the wind buzzed in the air. “I want to give anything I can to you, to make whatever you want come true.”

Ba-ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-ba-dump dump. 

“We’re partners, right? You do the hardware, I software, we can accomplish anything.”

Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba dump. 

You’re all red. Are you warm?

-She leaned in closer to get a better look at him. He was speaking so strangely, even by her own standards. Was he that excited to help her? He must have been. A soft breath that wasn’t quite a laugh leaked from her lips-

I didn’t realize you were so invested in this. Thank you. It’s nice to know that there’s someone else who wants to make the world better with me. You too, if there are any projects you need help with, I would like to hear about them. If I can help in any way, I will.

-Da Li reached down to attach a cable to her leg. A hand tapped commands on the keyboard, starting the download of Sparks’ program. It only took a few moments for the notification to announce the download’s completion. She flexed her leg at the knee a few times, rising to her feet to test the difference-

One project. One purpose. One idea. One thing that matters. One thing that ever mattered.

When he saw her blink, he let his eyes drift off, can’t stare too closely, he didn’t want to creep her out, right? Remember your practice? Right? Protocol.

EXECUTE COMMAND: SOCIAL

E̴r̸r̶o̷r̷.

Ȩ̵̲̮̖̾͝r̸̫͖̙͌͂ͅr̶̛͚̗͗̌̊͑͊̓ǒ̸͙͎̼̭̓̈́͐̍̽̄ŗ̸̺͕̣̒̽͌.

È̶̢̛̫̜͔͇̫͓̓̐̋̿͑̎̾̐̈́̒̊͒͗̆͊̉́́̐̒͛̐̏̓̑̈́̈́́̏̂̀̑̿̃͌͑̕͘̕͘͘̕͘͘͠͝͠R̴̢̧̛̛̤̮̬͓̠̩͖͎̱̣̟̩̩̝̝̺̯̯̜̖̺̞͙̙̣̼̹̹̜̋͑̀̌̊̍̀̀̔̑̽̋̌̽̈͐͗͋͆̿̓͗́̇̔̄̇̓̾̃̽̄͑̌̃͊̚͘̚̚͝͝͠R̷͚̟͇̥̜̝̯̪̀͑͛͆̂͆͐͒̃̂́̒̓͑̾͊͆͋̾͐̀̉͘̕͘̕͜Ơ̴̧̤̘̑̍̓͗̆͌͊̆͐̓͛̒̀̉̆̕R̵̛̛̥̽̃̇̄͆́͑̾͒͐͂̉́̑̎́̏͋̌̽͌͂͛́͒̏́̊͆̌̈̾̍̈͆̇̊͛̀̕̚̕̚͘͠͠͝͝͠͠

Ḙ̵̪̝͇̉͒͑̃ř̵̤̪͖̻̈̈́r̴̨̨̘̬̳͂̕o̸̝̱̭̿r̶̟̘̪̐́̍̃̆: SOCIAL COMMAND OVERRIDDEN

UPLOADING REPLACEMENT

....

....

....

SOCIAL COMMAND HAS BEEN OVERRIDDEN AS DA LI.

She was right there. Right there, so close, he could feel the electricity buried just under the skin. He could see the little dips and curves of her form, the small bump of her nose and wrinkle of her lips.

He didn’t know what overridden program caused him to reach out, cup her cheek and brush back a lock of hair as his heartbeat grew evermore erratic. But he knew exactly which one caused the words to spill from lips.

Fuck Illinois.

No, seriously. Fuck it. 

Fuck the entire fucking state; fuck Chicago, the New York wannabe city with all of the crime and none of the charm. Fuck the weather, the kind that took the dreary overcast of his Brighton Beach, landlocked it turned it forty degrees lower. Fuck the weird address system that’s not built on a grid like any logical city should, and air that despite not having to deal with the smog of being the center of the world, still managed to reek of skunk-weed and sadness.

But most of all; fuck Illinois because he lives here now.

Not even in the city part of it, at least if it was Chicago he’d find comfort in the overcrowded tenements and frequent gunshots he was already used to dozing off to. Here, it was quiet, eerily quiet, he hadn’t slept in days now because the dead air with nothing but the occasional cricket screaming for a fuck to break the rustle of wind. It felt like something out a silent hill horror knock-off, some Appalachian horror north of the border, complete with discount eighties music blasting from the speakers of massive, near empty malls.

Fuck, even the concept of a mall fucked him up.

So maybe he was on edge. Maybe he was wired, skittish, owl eyed and twitching. Maybe that’s why when he saw some poor kid who looked too much like Axel in his blurry exhaustion for his own good backed to a corner with a couple guys that if he tried real hard he could pretend was Jason and his possee cracking knuckles above him, he found his fist swinging without thought.

And immediately regretted it.

“Ow, ow, fuck-” the guy actually caught his punch. What the actual fuck, he caught the punch. Then came the twist, and the crack and-

Oh. 

So.

That happened.

He couldn’t even muster up the energy to scream, looking down at his twisted wrist, throbbing. Huh. Jason wouldn’t do that. People at home didn’t do that. They just punched until the other person passed out. This was some actual took-self-defense lessons as a kid bullshit.

However, they didn’t seem to take much consideration to his pontification, as his head was slammed against the wall, vision going black. Alright, wake up, Eliot, you’ve fought bigger than this, much bigger than this- fuck he fights Jason, this was nothing- lashing out his foot for the other’s ankle, he managed a solid hit, dislodging himself and crashing an elbow into one of the two’s jaw-

And found himself pinned down yet again, high pitched ringing in his ear. He was kicking, lashing out, squirming and maybe screaming because what the fuck was happening, he didn’t lose fights- he didn’t lose them anymore at least- and he heard them laughing, were they laughing at him, were you kidding me- 

Alright. That was it. That was it. He was a city boy god damn it, he was a Brooklyn Boy, he wasn’t letting some suburban bitches do what fuckin’ Bronx couldn’t. 

The next couple minutes were a blur for him, and he was pretty sure he was much more injured than either of them when they finally left him alone. But, the bloody lip at least kept him tied to reality, let him feel more at home than he’d felt since he got to this shithole.

Sliding back against the wall, he groaned, pulling up the hood of his jacket and pulling it tight. “Sorry ‘bout that.” He wasn’t quite sure what to say here, what exactly he could explain as. “I fuckin’ hate people like that, pickin’ on the weak just ‘cause they could.”

Sucking a bit of blood from his lip, he glanced over, then back. “They pick on you a lot?”

He sighed peacefully, breathing in the cool air. It was so nice getting to actually be outdoors without a jacket. Roy was careful as he walked, making sure to stick to the rarely used side streets for fear of coming across one of his usual bullies. Unfortunately, they anticipated this.

“Hey f****t, bold of you to show your face around here!” The unofficial leader of the group yelled at Roy to get his attention. Roy blanched immediately, looking over his shoulder to gauge the danger of the situation. There were five of them, too many for Roy to take on his own. He ran for his life, but it wasn’t long before they had him cornered.

Roy drew his own shaky fists, utterly terrified but not going down without a fight. Before the first punch was thrown, however, the bullies’ attention was drawn elsewhere. Roy’s eyes widened; a boy who seemed around his age but was significantly shorter had run up to them. Before Roy could even process who this was or why he was here, he had redirected the fight to himself.

Though he was tiny, Roy found himself silently hoping he would still win- a hope which was obliterated within around 2 seconds. The sickening crunch of bones being shifted unnaturally, the smack of well placed knuckles to a skull, the thud of the still throbbing head being pushed into the nearby brick wall, and the poor stranger was left fighting to maintain what consciousness they had left.

“Leave h-him a-a-alone!” Roy yelled desperately. He balled up his fists, forcing his way into the fight. Even with two of them now, they still were no match for the five bullies who decided tormenting others was their favorite pastime. As the small boy was pinned to the ground, Roy found himself pushed against the wall, arm twisted painfully behind his back.

“Aw, why didn’t you tell us you had a boyfriend? I thought we were such good friends, c***sucker. It’s a shame your little boyfriend is still too weak to protect you.” The group laughed, only inciting more rage from the two of them. Roy tried to deny any relation to the other boy, if only to save him from the impending beating. His desperate attempt failed, and the brave stranger was subjected to the relentless fists and kicks of entitled, well educated young adults.

Roy, however, was merely knocked unconscious. They were used to hurting him and, not that it wasn’t fun anymore- because it was! They loved their living punching bag- but fresh meat was so much more enticing.

When Roy came to, it was all over. He looked at the other boy curiously. So much foolish bravery for someone so tiny.

“Um… uh… th-thank y-you f-for… uhh… sticking up for m-me, but y-you didn’t need t-to d-do that. This is… unfortunately, a r-regular occurrence for m-me.”

Roy moved in next to him, tears painting his cheeks. He curled into himself, tucking his head into his knees.

Fuck this place. Fuck this place fuck it fuck it- “God damn it!” He kicked the wall, a hiss escaping him from the blinding pain when he heard a crack, dropping down to clutch the boot. “Fuck.”

He worked so hard. He worked so hard to work his way up in Brooklyn, to prove himself capable, he finally managed it, he was toe to toe with the best they had, would win against the best they had.

But that was all gone here. Now he was just the small black gay kid with a weird accent and no money. He didn’t even have his background to defend himself anymore, there was zero doubt in his mind the fact fresh, easy meat was in town would hit the street before he even made it back home.

He was shaking with anger now. No. No he wasn’t taking this sitting down. He wasn’t dealing with all of this again. Never again. 

“They won’t much longer.” His voice was quiet as he forced himself to stand, blocking out the pain in his foot. “I’ll get them next time.” He forced himself to use Axel voice. This kid was pretty obviously scared out of his fucking shit. 

“Name’s Eliot.” At least he could seem tough to this kid, maybe. And maybe he pronounced th words with a it more Brooklyn than needed. “And I’m gonna kick their asses one way or another.”

His eyes were almost glowing now, rage, yeah finally a useful emotion was rolling around since he got here. “Where I’m from we don’t just watch shit go down-” okay that was a blatant lie, you watched people get straight up murdered and keep your trap shut, but, still- “without doing something about it.”

“Hiya there, little buddy. I see it’s my special day.”

Well, wasn’t today just full of surprises.

He’d always loved petting zoos. Quiet, calm, especially ones like this a little off the beaten path so he didn’t have to fight off city folk more focused on the novelty of it all than the actual sensation. Sure, he had most of these animals back home, but, it wasn’t about that, it was about the feeling of it all, and these were special little creatures, so docile and sweet. 

The lick on his cheek, little things like that, too, brought the spice that made life grand after all.

-Dylan hesitated at the man’s outstretched hand. With tense nerves, he offered his own. It was less of a handshake and more of a brushing gesture, pulling away too quick to be entirely polite-

Uh, Dylan. Yeah, I g-guess…a few years? ‘S a good place…a-and the animals are pretty calm. Daisy here’s new, so she s-still likes to get inta trouble.

-He couldn’t make eye contact. Dylan focused on the llama, petting her more to soothe his own nerves than hers. People always made him nervous, but somehow he felt like the man watched him a little too closely. The same look he was giving the animals-

S-sorry about that…I g-guess you smelled familiar.

-Dylan shifted. Now that his hands were free, it was harder to hide the nervous fidgeting. He settled for shoving his hands in his pockets, still avoiding the man’s eyes-

Clasping his hands behind his back, he stretched his neck, before settling back to a grin. “The young ones always are, but they’re the sweetest too once they get some structure in their heads.” 

Aww, he was a curious little thing, cute.

Animals t-tend to have good judgement…whatever ya wanna c-call it. They’re s-smart…sometimes smarter than people. Easier to g-get along with, too. Uh, I mean…I think so, anyway.

-He was terrible at small talk. What was he saying?-

Y-you’ve…got your hands f-full. Ya run it all by yourself…? ‘Least I have help, usually. Though n-nothin was real scheduled today, so staff’s scarce. It’s b-better for the animals when there’s not s-so many guests.

“I like to think of them as children, really, people who need someone to protect them, but will provide everything you need, love and affection, in return.” 

Laughing again, hearty and full, he stepped off the fense, stretching his arms above his head til there was a pop. “Yeah, in harvest time I’ll hire a hand or two, but most of the time it’s me. You get used to it, nice, having the solitude, just me and my animals. No worrying about someone messin’ up their diets if it’s me.”

-Dylan paused for a moment at the unexpected offer. More work was never a bad thing, especially when he was already struggling to pay rent-

…I’m not uh, s-sure what my Summer’s g-gonna look like…but I’ve got plenty of farmin’ experience. Doin’ odd jobs and harvest, and the like. If…if you’re serious, I c-can give ya my number…s-so you can call when harvest comes ‘round.

-He ran a hand through his hair, looking a bit awkward. One of the hands in his pocket pulled out a pen, and he glanced around for something to write on-

It’s…better than nothin’. Just means I n-need ta work more. Here ‘specially is p-pretty alright. But…I appreciate it. Um, it’s alright, y-you should keep your pen.

-From the distance, a worker called out to Dylan. He jumped, fumbling to hand back the cloth and pen. In his fluster, the pen he handed over was his-

Uh, it’s been n-nice talkin’ to ya. I gotta g-get back to work…I’ll b-be seein’ ya, I guess.

He’d have to remember him. Not often you found something that soft out this far in the sandy soils. He’d have to keep an eye to make sure that softness wasn’t plucked away.

–

He came back the next day, this time in muddy brown boots, dark wide brimmed hat and a brighter smile than even before as he approached the desk. “Hi, was hopin’ to speak to…Dylan, I think his name was- he’s a great worker, I see, deserves a raise. But mind bringing him up here, wanted to ask him a couple questions.”

He flashed an all too white smile.

-Dylan stepped into the small building out front of the petting zoo and paused. Confusion jumbled his thoughts as he was greeted with the sight of the man he talked to only yesterday, wearing that same friendly smile with eyes too blue to be anything but unnerving-

Uh…J-Jonathan? What’re you…doing here?

Pushing himself off, he straightened his back, hands in his pockets, disarming as he could be. “Know this’s a bit sudden, but, my usual farmhand for the season got into some fancy school in New York, ‘es moving down there, was hoping, if you’re looking for another job, you wouldn’t mind helpin’ out? Wouldn’t be too much, grooming horses, carrying a couple hay bals, the easy stuff, I take care of the plants myself, it’s mostly the animals looking for a friend.”

- Why was she even here? Sophia, one of the girls who used to be, emphasis on used to be, a close friend of hers when she was in the dorms begged her to go with her to the frat party on campus. For some stupid reason, there was some frat boy she was trying to hook up with and who better than her to be her wing woman? Really? She felt like she was just being dragged along so she wouldn’t be there crying alone if things don’t go as planned. Why did she even agree to this? The party raged on, Cassandra just kept sipping on her water, waiting for her “friend” to show a sign that she was alive. She needed to make sure she was okay before she left. Why was she so caring again? Does she recall Sophia helping her when she needed a friend the most? She sighed loudly and relunctantly stayed. Bad things can happen anywhere and especially at a frat party where everyone was drunk as a skunk.

 This is quite enough. No more of this. The smell was repulsive, a mixture of everything you can possibly imagine. She… she didn’t even want to think what this place reeked of but she was done. She laughed to herself. She knew she was the only sober person there to make it out of that house. She groaned, feeling something slung over her shoulders and it weighed even more than her cello. She looked up to see striking blue eyes, blond hair… Okay, typical frat boy but damn… he was a looker and she had to admit it Curse the pink hue on her cheeks. It was an immediate reaction. Nonetheless, she didn’t care for it or him.She slowly tried to ease away from the man’s hold, but his grip on her was quite firm. For some reason, she wasn’t as flustered as she usually would be. Heck, she wasn’t flustered at all. The guy was drunk and he was spouting nonsense. He couldn’t even speak without being interrupted by his hiccups. She spoke to him in a polite tone and rolled her eyes. Yes, she was raised not to roll her eyes at people but in this situation, she couldn’t help it. What did she do to deserve this? - 

“Yeaaaahhhhh, I’m not your babe, Mister. In matter of fact, I am getting out of here. Alone.” 

- He was so much taller than her and she was damn grateful for that because she could smell the beer wafting from him, so strongly, she might have actually choked without noticing - 

“Why don’t you just go… run along do what always do? Or you know what? Maybe just go to sleep and not wreak havoc? You know… bad boys can be good sometimes.”

Holy. Shit. He thought she was cute before, cute with a dash pretty. Didn’t know that baby kitten was a fucking FOX. Jesus christ, she was...it took everything in his power not to let his eyes trail down at the pattern, leather, those thighs, christ where do they sell those shorts because he would personally go and offer the woman a Nobel prize. 

Well. He had a lot to live up to then. Hopefully, his guesses based off blatant stereotypes worked out.

Maybe he should have thought this through a bit more.

Hands around her waist, he hoisted her onto the back, ruffling the helmet, feeling a genuine laugh bubble when he saw the frizz rise from the static shock. “Well, you’re in for somethin’ tonight, babe.”

It also just occurred to him that maybe having a first date that involved going into the wild was not his best idea, but, eh, here’s to hope.

Letting the rev of the engine steel his nerves, he kicked off the stand and blasted into the bustling streets. 

The sun was starting to set, casting a fiery red glow over the smoggy city, somethin’ out of a cheesy Romcom, not that he watched those, as he tried to focus on weaving through the traffic and not on the soft brush of Cass’s hair on his neck, or the hands holding him tight.

It took a while to get there, out to the desert about a half an hour until the city’s buzz was behind them, and all that was left was the dark thumping of music just out of view. Finally, he pulled to a stop, in front of a makeshift stage, lights and sound cobbled together from various, probably stolen pieces, a hundred people or so million about as a DJ spun. There were instruments strewn about, a lot of people in lawn chairs and beach towels strung among the nearby dunes It was clear whatever event they were here for hadn’t started yet.

Shutting off the bike, he tossed up the keys, twisting them between his fingers before tossing it into his pocket, stepping off, and offering a hand to help his freckles down.

The sun was just teetering on the edge of the sky, casing a brilliant purple over the yellow waste. It was the middle of nowhere, but, with the lights and music pumping, a single shack serving all the beer and snacks you could ever want, he felt the least lonely he’d in years.

“Seemed like a you thing, when I heard about it.”

 His eyes were shining in the sunset, as he watched the light set the stray hairs on her helmet-mussed hair on fire. She looked like fire, set against the sun, something that if he hadn’t renounced his faith when he left that madhouse of a farm, he’d call it almost holy. 

-

“Don’t scream so much, love, you’ll hurt that beautiful voice.” 

Fiyero was leaning on the wall beam holding up the curtain, rich red tapestry highlighting his hair like fire. Foot kicked up, a picture perfect model pose, as always. One couldn’t ever be so sure there wasn’t a camera around after all.

I thought I was dreaming you the whole time. I’ve never been more glad to be awake than I am now. I’ll stay awake forever if it means knowing you’re really here.

-Upon dressing, her insecurities took over at how much skin could be seen. Shuffling nervously in front of him, Lily was taken by surprise when she turned, feeling his larger hand cover her stomach and pressed himself to her back, his words sending heat coursing through her. Blushing furiously, she covered her face with her hands and shook her head.-

M-Me? B-But I… I, um… Y-You know I won’t… I won’t go anywhere, b-baby, I… I’m only yours. D-Does that mean… Does that mean I can say the same?

-Fiyero rested his head on her shoulder again, and before Lily could see if he was all right, see if he needed anything that she could give, he took her hand. She was, however, able to at least thread her other hand through his crimson hair, leaving a small kiss on his temple before he pulled away, allowing her to take everything in.-

-He took her breath away, and he wanted her. Her. Lily’s mouth ran dry just at the sight of him, and it took everything inside her not to let her knees give out. …Perfect. Any real comprehension of speech left her as a knot grew in her throat. All she could do was nod at the mention of yet another surprise, letting him hold onto her hand as he led her past the stares of guests in the hotel, his head held high with pure confidence as he brought her to the car.-

-There was a glimmer in those emerald eyes the moment they were in the car, the door locking behind him. A small click, but one that seemed to ring with such a finality, as if telling her there was no getting out. But she wasn’t afraid. Nervous, yes, but only because she wanted to make him happy, to feel like she deserved his attention. Lily hummed softly, resting her head on his shoulder as she held his arm before he wrapped it around her.-

Holy, hm? I guess that really does make you my angel, after all. 

-Fingers in his hair all over again, Lily’s free hand traced Fiyero’s jaw and cheekbone as she smiled softly, unable to look away. She would be content to stay that way forever with him. Raising herself up ever so slightly, Lily rested her hand on the back of his neck, their eyes locking before she gave him another soft kiss, lingering, and still, he managed to leave her breathless.-

-Lily draped her legs over his lap, feeling completely at ease with him. It was all brand new, but that feeling of safety remained ever-present, even if her heart wanted to burst from her chest at their proximity. Still, she couldn’t help the small, teasing smile that spread on her face.-

Just how many surprises do you have planned for me, sweetheart? I… I’m more than happy just being with you. I… I trust you and I love you, I just… I want to make you happy, too, that’s all.

-Fiyero had her completely captivated, and she knew, somehow she knew, that would never change. Even as he held her, skimming his fingers across her form. But when he added the slightest pressure to her side, Lily jumped and giggled. Oops. Her face flushed and she tucked her head down.-

I… I’m ticklish…

-A confession that only seemed to make his emerald eyes light up, teasing. He did it again and Lily yelped, giggling even more. It continued, drawing her to laugh so hard she cried. Hearing Fiyero laugh with her, hearing him laugh at all, was absolutely beautiful to her, truly her favorite sound in the world, with a gorgeous smile to match. Once it had stopped, Lily sighed happily and cuddled close to him, wrapping her arm around his torso, her head on his shoulder.-

You really have the nicest smile and laugh I’ve ever come across. I… I mean it. H-How are you so… so perfect?

-A few hours later and the car came to a stop. Lily barely noticed, too happy and content being in Fiyero’s arms. An unlocking sound of the door and she straightened, letting him out first before taking his outstretched hand. Where…-

Wh-Where are we now, baby? What did you have in mind?

-The preparations in the limo suddenly went through her mind again. They were around a massive field of flowers, a view that left her almost stupefied. She could smell the flowers as if she were holding them in her hands. This was something strictly out of fairy tales. Or a dream… a vivid one.-

This was the moment. The moment that would define the rest of his life. Pass or fail, the moment his feet stepped foot on the emerald greens his fate, blood or body, would be sealed. 

As his feet crushed the perfectly aligned grass beneath, he offered a hand to his future- well...he couldn’t even spare the thought so soon.

“It’s a gift, darling.” He pressed a soft kiss to her cheeks, as he led her out, himself walking backward, but every step sure as if he were following marble stepping stones far beneath the earth. Twisting and circling in symbols not written in the daylight in centuries, or so he’d been told before. 

There was a marble structure in the center of the field of red and lilac, tall and doomed like a white gazebo, with a couple carved at the peak, a man with wings clutching a woman in a dress that flowered and bloomed into stone lillies along the walls of the aging columns. It was old, it seemed, old but so carefully preserved, within this field of thorns and flowers.

So, he took her hands again, leading her up the steps into the spiraling shadows casted by the dome.

In the center, there was a table, a bowl-shaped object, with divets and seeps that ran through like veins. And in the middle of the bowl, stood a single spike, a gold too bright for mortal eyes but one he’d been promised as his birthright.

Looking up, he knew. This was their birthright.

“Mo bhláth.” He ran his fingers across the marble skin, so smooth and silk and soft and godly he knew, no matter what this showed, it must be true. “I know I haven’t given you all the reason in the world to follow me, but...” Now with a hand on both her cheeks, he tilted her head up to meet his own, as his voice dipped lower, darker than it ever had.