#riff raff the goblin

[sl0anart]

redraw of a redraw! She needed to be more gobliny

#dnd #dnd art #dungeons and dragons #dnd5e #dnd character #riff raff the goblin #goblin girl #dnd rogue #arcane trickster #dnd goblin

[radarrider87]

The Seven Year Sleep (Chapter 2)

“Honest, mister! The password is mug punter.”

I almost tell this little scamp to wash his mouth out with bar soap, but then my days spent in the gambling dens come rushing back. If I’m remembering things correctly, a mug punter refers to a chuckle head who can’t make a good bet to save his life. Sounds about right.

Besides, the kid has been hanging out at that club for a good long while, perched on the roof in his forest green newsboy and swinging his legs over the side. If anyone knew the good word being used between the bouncers and their esteemed guests, it was him.

I unfold a wad of rupee notes and hand a red twenty to the kid, a true to life mug punter casting his ill-fated bet. The urchin bounces around like a giddy rooster and ends up losing that filthy green cap off his head. He snatches it up quick as can be, but the jig is already up.

Glaring down at the urchin, I ask for a name.

The kid turns around sheepishly, holding the newsboy tight in one hand and making a fist with the other. “It’s Mido, mister! The most dangerous bloke on the block!”

I ask for her real name.

The kid pouts and lowers her head, tangles of bright hair swaying in front of her eyes. “Saria... But don’t you go telling the other scamps! I got a reputation to uphold, ya hear?”

Yeah, I hear ya, kid. The streets are rough enough for the boys, but at least they can earn a living running errands for the bosses. Saria would probably get snatched up by some copper if they got wind of the truth, and in their eyes, the city streets didn’t have much use for a girl. They’d sell her off to the factories without so much as a good luck word.

I promise to keep Saria’s secret safe from everybody and tell her to stick around town. I may have a job worth a purple fifty next time.

She nods with that bright enthusiasm of youth, tucking her hair back under the cap and darting off to the alleys of her hard knock life.

Well, no use putting it off. Time to swallow that potion, no matter how bad it tastes. I head over to the club, its neon sign and crimson letters cutting through the smog. The Lonesome Ranch. Never thought I’d pay a visit to this joint again.

I walk up to the bouncer, an enormous creature with the mane of a lion and the jaws to match. And if that wasn’t enough to turn away the riff-raff, there’s also a couple of nasty horns twisting out of his forehead for good measure. Everyone knows you don’t mess with a Lynel.

His massive hand falls on my shoulder, and he grips the sinews tight enough to let me know that I’d best behave myself if I wanted to keep my arm in its socket.

“Weapons?”

I mutter a choice word under my breath. Of course a Lynel could sense the gun under my trench coat, plain as day. They got a way of sniffing these things out. I hand over the revolver, even though it twists my gut to do so. At least he doesn’t bother me about the knife I got tucked away, but that’s a small comfort in a place like this.

“Password?”

I give him that, as well, and he grunts with a touch of disappointment before waving me through. That’s right, fella. I’ll be keeping this arm, thank you very much.

As the velvet curtains part, a haze of broken dreams greets me and I get a strong whiff of Dodongo smoke drifting down the halls—pretty potent stuff they’re smoking tonight.

The place is crowded, that’s for sure. Gamblers and drinkers gather about the tables, shouting, swearing, laughing. There’s an empty stage at the far side of the room, surrounded by curtains and an air of mystery. The bartenders shake their cocktails and pour liquid comfort from glittering bottles, and now I’m starting to feel the dryness at the back of my throat as I watch them serve up shots of Romani.

I turn away, shaking my head. There’s business at hand. The thirst can wait.

I look around the club, taking note of several high profile members of the Blin gangs. A couple of the goblin men look away and pretend they never saw me. A few of those newsmen are also here, throwing back their martinis and smoking cigars after another slow day. Just another poor sod gunned down at the courthouse. Nobody would miss him, especially not the bosses.

And speak of the devils, it looks like some of the bosses are rubbing shoulders with the goons tonight, all for the sake of some fast cash. Granted, they were small time, but when I lock eyes with one of them, a skeleton of a man in a three piece suit, he refuses to look away. Just holds my gaze like a trueborn killer.

I ignore the bloke and push on. Walking past the gambling tables, it’s clear that most of the men have their eyes fixed on the surface, waving ticket stubs and rupee notes in their hands. I move in between a Blin and a Zora for a closer look. The outer rim looks normal enough, just a hunk of chiseled marble covered with cigar ash and glasses of bourbon. The center of the table, however, is something else entirely.

A pool of water glistens with light and motion. The gamblers lower their rupees and tickets, watching their precious bets sink out of sight, hoping for something greater in return. Wild shapes and colors flicker across the surface, and soon the image of running horses appears in the reflection, a race that looks to be taking place in far away fields.

Fairy fountains. So now they’re using sacred fairy fountains to bet on the tracks. A lot’s sure changed since the last time I was here.

The men are shouting now, shouting nonsense names as they toss their rupees into the drink. “That’s it, Parapa! C’mon! He ain’t got nothing on Stalhorse! Fifty rupees on Storm!”

As I watch the horses race and the rupees disappear, it steadily becomes clear that one steed rules the tracks, and she’s a thing of beauty. Epona, the prized mare. The horse that won Ingo enough dough to buy Ganon’s favor and take over his brother’s club. Hell, there’s even a golden statue of her sitting behind the bar. None of the others can hold a candle to Epona, no matter what the bookies might say.

And whaddaya know, there’s proof positive. As the mare sneaks up and crosses the finish line, the fountains bubble and fairy women rise from the depths, scantily clad in banknotes and twisting vines. They fling off their garb, showering a few lucky gamblers with winning rupees and blowing kisses of consolation to the losers. Those lucky few shout with joy, some curse like pirates, and the rest just weep into their glasses.

A well-dressed stick figure takes to the stage, twirling his mustache gleefully as he grabs up the microphone. “Gentlemen, gentlemen, there’s always another race and another chance to win the day. Although, it appears Epona has made fools of you once again.”

A raging boss shouts from the back. “Ah, blow it out yer ass, Ingo!”

The stick man known as Ingo laughs pleasantly and smooths back his hair, glistening with pomade. “Now, now, don’t let be said that Mister Ingo is stingy with his winnings. As your host and the purveyor of this fine establishment, I ask that you cast aside your cares and enjoy another drink of our fine vintage milk, on the house. And as you avail yourselves of our gracious hospitality, may you also find pleasure in the dulcet tones of the one, the only... Malon!”

With much fanfare, Ingo waves his hands as if casting a spell. The curtains rise and the instruments come to life. A brush shivers on the high hat. A man snaps his fingers to a smooth rhythm. A warm, golden light blossoms on the stage, revealing a solitary woman, red of hair and absolutely gorgeous.

She sways with the music and sings in a low, seductive voice.

You had plenty money, some was lent to you

You let other women make a fool of you

Why don't you do right, like some other men do?

Get out of here and get me some rupees too

You're sittin' there and wonderin' what it's all about

You ain't got no money, they will put you out

Why don't you do right, like some other men do?

The lights go up, illuminating the bandstand. I slowly turn about, my back to the fountain, unable to take my eyes off this woman and her stunning sequin dress.

As she sways and runs her gloved hands over her hips, she looks out at the audience, and wouldn’t you know it, her eyes are suddenly on me. A saxophone moans with pleasure.

If you had prepared seven years ago

You wouldn't be a-wanderin' now from door to door

Why don't you do right, like some other men do?

Get out of here and get me some rupees too

There’s a fever running through the crowd now. A waitress passes by, balancing a platter of scotch and whiskey as she navigates this raging sea of hormones. One of the goons reaches out for her, but she smacks him away without losing a drop.

But then Ingo charges through the hall, knocking the waitress and her silver platter to the floor. Liquor rains down on the woman as the greaseball looms over her, screaming his head off. “You have any idea who ya just smacked, Cremia? I’ll teach you to mind the bosses!”

So that was Ingo’s way of running this joint... yelling at the ladies, jeering at the men, and twirling that crooked mustache on a face that only a mother would tolerate.

I make a sudden move on impulse, but something holds me back from giving Ingo a taste of his own medicine. A little piece of wisdom, perhaps. Too many crooks and bosses huddled together in this room. I can’t help anyone as a corpse.

Malon holds my gaze, judging my decision, refusing to let her uncle’s outburst ruin her number. Her voice rises an octave.

Why don't you do right... like some other men... do?

She holds the last note, her voice trembling with the music. The sax warbles. The drums pound a crashing beat to match the heartbeat of every man in this club, and then it all stops.

The gamblers go wild with applause, and now the only way to cure their fever is to take the siren’s advice. They turn back to the fountains, eager to cast their bets.

Me? I just watch Malon as she steps away from the mic. Her eyes lower with the lights and the curtains come to a close, pulling her back into a prison of her uncle’s making.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39944304/

#legend of zelda #zelda #noir #crime noir #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #archive of our own #link #malon #malink #drinking #night club #mobsters #noir au #radio drama

[starwarssimmergirl]

~Underworld Street Riff-Raff~

~Talena~

~Orphan Girl~

~Space Goblin Vibes~

Backstory-

Talena grew up on the streets after losing her parents

to a Bounty Hunter who was hunting them,

So Talena basically grew up alone throughout the

Clone wars and the Jedi Purge Afterwards,

Talena grew up beneath the Empire rules even

though she still remembers the ways of Republic

The Empire did its best to make sure no one spoke of

or thought of the old ways.

Talena becomes a Riffraff and common pick pocket

and thief eventually getting her hands on old clone

pistols from her thieving ways,

But Talena soon finds herself not out for herself

anymore,

When she helps a small crew of Smugglers,

Who were themselves helping a Fugitive from the

empire....

Unknown to her this Fugitive would change the ways

she has been living her life...

Maybe it will be for the better in the long run.

#sims 4 #starwars #starwars oc #edit #republic #clonewars #empire #starwars fanfic #riff raff #street rat #pick pocket #thief oc #space goblin

[nicopony79]

It's the pelvic thrust, that really drives you in-say-ay-aiiin.

Inspired by Rocky Horror Picture Show poster, an IMDB image of Tim Curry, several stock photos from Getty. Sinister as Dr. Frank-N-Furter, Psylocke as Magenta, Goblin Queen as Columbia, Hapless Havok as Eddie, Gambit as The Creature (aka Rocky), Greycrow as Riff Raff, and of course, Cyke as Brad and Jean as Janet (fainting, naturally).

Drawn by me, NicoP

Edit: I realized I forgot to give Riff Raff his feather duster...so I fixed it and did a better scan.

#gambit #mister sinister #cyclops #jean grey #goblin queen #havok #psylocke #greycrow #rocky horror picture show

[belamourelysianlimerence]

In 2018, on my birthday, I gave gifts to all my F/Os...

Phantom- a golden version of his mask.

Hare-Golden Rose seeds.

Jack Frost- Snowflake lapel pins.

Jareth- a device that shuts the goblins up through high pitched sound and a baby navigator.

Doctor-11- a gold bow tie.

12-flavored whiskey.

13- 3 dresses 1 yellow 1 green 1 blue.

Joker- A collection of rare knives.

Joker B- a tux and a big box of explosives.

Severus- A miniature doe patronus.

Alan- Better computer and an actual house off of a door.

Beetlejuice- Actual beetle juice.

Willy Wonka JD- a purple sparkly W clip.

Willy Wonka GW-a black satin top hat.

Rumplestiltskin- Rose colored glasses and weed.

Hector Barbossa- his own ship in a bottle for emergencies.

Willy Wonka DH- A bouquet of honey Rose's and each one is a different type of honey.

Tarrant Hightoop- whispering babies breath.

Edward Scissorhands-blade sharpeners, bumpers for blades, a holographic dog that he can do hair cuts on forever.

Graf-Drew- Blood of Egyptians.

Ivan- Blood of Amazons.

Stephen- Blood of Siamese.

Durza- potions.

Jack Sparrow- a sparrow.

RK- a rat Nutcracker that crushes tiny NCs.

Balem- a green house housing various plants from earth.

Edward Hyde- a tiger engraved knife.

Hook- a gold hook.

Fegan Floop- more and multiple colored clay.

Roach- his tongue.

Loki- a tesseract mask.

Ambrose "Glitch"- modern inventing tools "muglug".

Kurt Wagner-the ability to not have to know what's on the other side before porting.

Hades-a group of beautifully colored flowers that never die.

Vorik- a device that takes the edge off of pon farr if needed.

Armand- "toys".

Lestat- jewellery in gold and silver.

Alexander- Free passage to and from his home planet.

Daniel- Actual scientific discoveries.

Nick- A suit that never gets dirty or tears.

Mr. March- a modern suit.

Tate- freedom to go anywhere any time, limited to 12 hours.

Kit- the movie grease.

Kyle- removal of scars.

Jimmy- separate fingers.

Quasimodo- disfigurement fixed.

Frank- new "toys".

Joker- gun made out of ivory.

Scarecrow- pack of anti crow crows.

Maestro- ability to at least go outside.

Riff Raff- a lovely "outfit".

Eachuin McLean- a language book.

Gabriel- permanent young look.

Sportacus- rare fruits and vegetables.

Robbie- weighed blanket.

Spock- pills to become more Vulcan or more human.

Sylar- a watch that tells him about anyone's specific schedule.

Larten-a little coffin for madame Octa.

Newt-little buds that eat marshmallows.

Pennywise- containers of meat (non children) and different kinds of seasonings and sauces.

Peter Pan- a wrist band that holds glowing marbles that inside hold entire fairy worlds.

Niles- a tie with a stripe of silver in the middle, a best butler mug and champagne glass.

Michael- a wedding experience.

[Bonus: all fathers/mothers get to spend time with their children]

Elphaba- sleeping pills that keep her from dreaming.

Xena- extra preparations for camping and fighting including clothes, food, sleeping arrangements, and weapons.

Vastra- a red gown.

Alaya- a silver gown.

Restac- a gold gown.

Constance- a massage.

Mombi- more heads.

Witch HW- glowing flowers.

Witch V- glowing flowers.

Maddie- an inky green top hat with a inky green feather.

Muriel- resistance to blessed items.

Missy- a box containing a vessel which carries a bit of her old fire.

Witch MS- glowing flowers.

Nicky- freedom.

Harley- gold and silver hair bands.

Cruella- dalmatian coat (not real dalmatians)

Edwin- a modern ascot.

Ava- a pretty dress.

Buck- beer and porn.

Lili- peace of mind.

Albert- a new suit and a dress.

Grell- red dress.

#self ship #self ship positivity #f/o community #f/o post #f/o #f/o stuff #f/o tag #self insert #f/o gush #self insert community #self ship community #self shipper #self shipping #self shipping community #selfshipping #selfshipping community

[you-moveme-kurt]

Glee «Flipping the mattress» Part II

Octubre de 2038

-¿De verdad tienes un reproductor CD?, ¿cómo es eso posible? —quiso saber Kurt cruzándose de brazos. -Pues Señor Hummel-Anderson, no es usted el único cliente del “Fleat market” de Chelsea… vamos lo tengo en el estudio… —dijo Blaine caminando hacia la puerta. -¿Cuantas más cosas tienes que yo no estoy enterado?... —añadió mirándolo ceñudo mientras lo seguía de cerca. -Un par… —contestó Blaine divertido— vamos… —repitió dándole un pequeño beso para luego llevárselo de  la mano. -Un momento… —dijo Kurt quedándose en el sitio. -Kurt… -Kurt nada, dime que cosas son esas que has comprado sin que yo me entere… —agregó zafándose para acto seguido cruzarse de brazos. -Son cosas pequeñas, un teléfono de disco… que tengo en el estudio, el reproductor de CD… —dijo enseñando la caja con el disco que había enviado Will— que como ves resultará muy útil en esta circunstancia...—Kurt seguía mirándolo ceñudo como si esperara lo peor— y... una máquina de videos juego Arcade… -¿Que?

-Pero en mi defensa debo decir que  estoy esperando que me llamen por si alguna vez esta disponible la que quiero… —respondió apretándose un par de pasos de manera inconsciente como si temiese una reacción física de parte de su esposo. -¿Donde se supone que vas a poner esa máquina?... —pregunto Kurt aguantando el enfado. -No lo se… ¿aquí?… —respondió Blaine mirando el dormitorio -¿¡QUE!? -Estoy bromeando… escucha… —dijo tomándole las manos, Kurt se resistió al principio pero luego terminó abandonándose en él como siempre— bien sabes que me gustan las cosas «vintage»… y también bien se que a ti no, o al menos no aquellas que no son de un diseñador importante o que pertenecieron a Marilyn Moroe o Elizabeth Taylor… —Kurt frunció la boca como diciendo en silencio, «si, es verdad»— pero como yo soy diferente y a  mi me gustan más las cosas estúpidas, decidí... -No digas que son cosas estúpidas… si te gustan es por algo… -¿Si? -Obvio que si… y disculpa…  disculpa… tienes derecho y dinero para comprarte lo que quieras… creo que me molesto mas descubrir que hay cosas que no me cuentas… -Las importantes te las digo todas… —se adelantó en decir Blaine mirándolo como siempre. -Espero y siempre sea así… -Lo será… te lo prometo… —dijo dándole otro pequeño beso— vamos a ver de qué se trata esto. -Vamos… ¡pero no!… —exclamó volviendo a detenerse en seco— tenemos unos cálculos que seguir y un colchón que voltear… —recordó Kurt apuntando hacia atrás por sobre su hombro. -Es verdad… ¿me permitirías  intentar algo?... -¿Algo?... -Si… toma… —dijo entregando la caja con el CD— permiso… —agrego pasando por su lado, se paró a un costado de la cama y miro todo a su alrededor, luego tomó el colchón de las manijas de tela que tenía en ambos extremos y lo levanto y volteo en un solo movimiento, Kurt sintió que le volvía aquello del calor repentino— listo… —dijo sonriendo. -Vaya… Señor Anderson-Hummel….—dijo abriéndose el cuello de la camisa— esa si que fue una demostración de fuerza— añadió mirándole los brazos— ¿me quiere impresionar o algo? -Un poco… y por supuesto no quiero desmerecer todo tus cálculos y todo pero realmente quería salir luego de esto porque me mata la curiosidad de que hay en este disco… -¡Al diablo con los cálculos!… —exclamo Kurt haciendo un gesto de desinterés con una de sus manos— lo que acabo de ver vale que me desmerezcas lo que sea.. -Nunca haré eso… —dijo Blaine riendo— pero es bueno saber que tengo cierta carta blanca al respecto, ¿vamos? ¿o prefieres hacer la cama primero? -¡Al diablo con la cama! —repitió aproximándose a él— igual en un par de horas volveremos a desarmarla… ¿o no?  —agrego moviendo sus cejas, se acerco más e hizo el ademán de besarlo. -¿Y ya vieron que era eso que venía de Lima?... ¿y aun esta la cama asi?. ¿que pasa con ustedes padres?... ¡hola!... —dijo Lizzie desde la puerta. -Hija, volviste… —dijo Kurt blanqueando sus ojos al tiempo que se apartaba de su esposo. -Si, ya le ayude al «Goblin» y ahora está escogiendo un sombrero. -¿Un sombrero Princesa?... —quiso saber Blaine caminando hacia ella. -Si, es lo que le falta a su look de granja… ¿y?, ¿que era? -¿Que cosa? -¡Ay «Papáblen»!, lo que venía de Lima, ¡hola!... -Este disco… —respondió Kurt meneando la caja— pero no sabemos que tiene dentro porque no traía ninguna etiqueta, ni rayado, ni nada… -¿Esto es un disco?... —pregunto Lizzie arrebatándoselo a su Papá—  es bien brillante para tener como mil años.... -¿Querías permiso para algo, dijiste el otro día?... —pregunto Kurt tomando vuelta el CD. -¡Ay Papá!... se bien que todo y todos envejecen menos tú… ¡uy!, ¡te super amo!... ¡hola!... —agregó queriendo hacerle unas cosquillas. -Papás, ¿aun están aquí acaso?... —preguntó Noah desde el umbral. -Aún hijo… —respondió Blaine asomándose— ¿por qué?, ¿necesitas algo? -No, Lizie Anderson-Hummel me ayudo con mi ropa de «gramja», todo esta «resultado»… —añadió con convicción. -Pues me alegro mucho… oye… —añadió bajando a su altura— con el Papá vamos a ver un disco que nos envió el que era nuestro profesor en secundaria, ¿quieres verlo con nosotros? -¿Como una película acaso? -Algo así… ¿quieres?... —añadió moviéndolo por la cintura. -Me parece «agradadedable» -Y a nosotros… -¿Están seguros que es algo que puede ver el «Goblin»?, porque si es triple X, les digo de inmediato… -¡Lizzie!... —exclamo Kurt dándole un golpe divertido en el antebrazo. -¡Ay Papá!...  estoy bromeando,  ¡hola!... ¿qué clase de profesor haría videos así de sus alumnos?, bueno uno pervertido no tendría problemas…pero  en fin… ¡oigan! se me ocurrió algo, ¿esa cosa antigua se puede ver en el televisor de la sala?... -Con los cables correctos,  por supuesto… —respondió Blaine incorporándose. -¡Genial!... —agrego la chica dando un aplauso— hagamos como una sala de cine entonces… con el «Goblin prepararemos unas palomitas… ¿te animas «Goblin»? -Me parece una muy buena idea Lizzie Anderson Hummel.. -Obvio que es una buena idea… ¡yo la inventé!... ¡hola!... ¡vamos!...  —agregó señalando hacia adelante, se abrió paso entre sus padres y salió con su hermano dando brincos como en cuento infantil. -Iré por el reproductor… —dijo Blaine señalando hacia el estudio. -Oye… -¿Que? -¿No crees eso de que ese disco tenga algo inadecuado para que lo vean nuestros hijos?... ¿o si? -Kurt, lo envío Will, ¿cuándo lo viste hacer algo inadecuado? -Bueno… —Kurt empequeñeció los ojos para concentrarse al máximo sobre el comportamiento de su ex maestro de secundaria— ¡ay!,  ¡esta bien!, al parecer nunca, pero andar de un lado a otro con adolescentes sin tener amigos de su misma edad… es bastante inapropiado si lo piensas… —añadió como para no quedar de perdedor en la discusión. -Eso es  algo que diría Sue Sylvester… no tú… —sentenció Blaine dándole un pequeño beso— voy enseguida… ¡resérvame un lugar! —exclamó mientras se retiraba.

-Ya esta todo listo… —dijo Kurt en cuanto su esposo llegó a la sala. En efecto, Lizzie y Noah habían hecho un par de fuentes de palomitas y cada quien se había quedado con una. -Así veo… —respondió Blaine parándose delante del televisor para conectar el reproductor de discos compacto— solo espero y se vea algo… —agregó mientras enchufaba todo. -¿No lo probaste antes?, ya sabes para saber… —dijo Kurt abriendo más sus ojos cuando decía lo de «saber» -No, pero estoy seguro y funciona… —dijo manipulando esta vez el televisor por el control remoto— «HDMI3»… —murmuró mientras buscaba la frecuencia— ahí esta… —dijo como con orgullo— lo único malo es que tendremos que ver sólo imágenes, el sonido tiene otra salida y no es compatible con este televisor. -¡Se ve todo azul!... ¡hola!... —reclamó Lizzie antes de comer un buen puñado de palomitas. -Es porque aun no pongo «play» Princesa— se adelantó en explicar Blaine acercándose— ¿cuál es mi lugar?... —pregunto mirando a Lizzie que estaba en uno de los sofás individuales y a Kurt, Noah y «Desmond» que compartían el sillón más grande. -Puedes sentarte aquí «Papáblen», hay lugar para todos… —contesto Noah arrimándose un poco a Kurt para quedar en medio de sus dos papás -Muchas gracias hijo… —agregó tomando ubicación— aquí vamos… —dijo presionando la tecla para echar a andar el reproductor de CD. -¡Ese eres tu Papá!... —exclamó Lizzie al ver que las primeras imágenes eran un «detrás de cámara» del musical «The Rocky Horror Picture Show» y el primero que aparecía era Kurt caracterizado en su rol de «Riff Raff» hablando algo con Finn— ¡te ves super bien! -Tomaré eso como un cumplido cariño... -¿Y ese es el Tío Finn Hudson acaso?... —preguntó Noah señalando la pantalla. -El mismo bebé… super sensacional, ¿verdad? -Si… —dijo abrazando un poco el tazón con palomitas. -¿Tu no estas «Papáblen»?... —preguntó Lizzie con la boca llena de palomitas. -No Princesa, yo aún estudiaba en Dalton en esa época. -¿Dalton no hizo una «presemtason» de Halloween? -No hijo, éramos más formales que eso… -¿Y fuiste a ese estreno del Papá supongo?, ¿o todavía ustedes no…?... —preguntó Lizzie haciendo chocar sus dedos índices uno con otro como describiendo algo sexual. -¡Lizzie!... -¡Ay Papá ya te dije que el «Goblin» no entiende nada de esto!... ¡hola!  —argumentó la chica a su favor. -Aun así… y no… con el «Papáblen» éramos solo amigos y por último, no hubo tal estreno, nos censuraron antes de que hubiera una sola función… —explicó Kurt poniendo mala cara al recordar aquel episodio de su vida. -Que mal… ¡esa es otra cosa!... —exclamó  Lizzie como si nadie más se hubiera dado cuenta de eso— ¿qué es?, están todos super elegantes… -Te ves muy bien Papá… el rojo y el negro son súper «combinazables» —agrego Noah de lo mas serio. -Gracias bebé… —dijo Kurt haciéndole un arrumaco. -Tú también «Papáblen»… están como «uniformeseados» -Gracias hijo… y para las competencias siempre había que «uniformasearse» -¿Qué competencia? —quiso saber Lizzie dejando escapar algo de lo que comía. -Traga primero Lizzie Anderson, luego hablas... —dijo Kurt mirando a  su hija con cara de reprimenda, Lizzie hizo otro par de muecas divertidas para salir del paso como lo hacía siempre— creo que es una final de algo… ¿Blaine? -Por los colores de la ropa creo y son las nacionales del 2012… —respondió este inclinándose un poco hacia adelante como para ver mejor. -¡Claro!... —exclamo Kurt haciendo lo mismo, Noah los miró a ambos y se corrió de a poco para no quedarse atrás. -¿Esa fue la única que ganaron?... —agregó Lizzie comiendo otro poco de palomitas. -¡Hija!, haces parecer a tus padres como unos perdedores… —dijo Kurt en tono ofendido— pero tienes razón son las únicas que… -¿Que?... —añadió Lizzie al ver que Kurt se quedaba en silencio observando una de las imágenes, Mister Schue estaba sobre el escenario y le hablaba a la cámara emocionado tras el triunfo obtenido, en el fondo estaba él, Mercedes y Blaine celebrando con el resto, luego de un diálogo, Kurt abría sus brazos, su ahora esposo se acercaba y él lo envolvía de vuelta en un abrazo inmediato tan perfecto, tan sincronizado que parecía obvio, como si aquel lugar en su cuerpo siempre hubiese estado  hecho para él, a su medida casi. -Nada… —agrego como volviendo en si, Lizzie hizo una mueca como diciendo «esta bien» y siguió mirando el video, esta vez era Rachel la que gritaba como loca demente con el trofeo en las manos. -Eso es bien normal en la tía Rachel… -Lo es… —agregó Kurt como si aún estuviese en las nubes. -¿Esta todo bien?... —susurró Blaine tocándole una pierna. -Todo perfecto… más que perfecto en realidad… —añadió sonriendo y guardando para sí la emoción que le había provocado notar aquel detalle.

#Klaine #escenas borradas glee #blaine y kurt #glee #klaine fanfiction

[thelastarchangelaskblog]

Session 9

This session was another dungeon crawler! We also hit level 4 by the end! A lot happened; it was also a very giggly session as we kept breaking out of character to laugh.

All of us were in attendance, and we have lots of highlights.

**

(Read more.)

We open up immediately after Tony (me) has had the dream, and DJ (doxblogsstuff) and Zira ( @heliocentricgeometric​) are first up and chatting about breakfast. DJ would like to apologize to Tony for what happened the other day.

DJ: I was gonna try to apologize by making him breakfast.

Zira: doubt.jpg

Zira is not at all certain about DJ doing anything cooking-related, even though DJ insists he knows how to cut things up.

DJ: I'll have you know my professor told me I had the best prepared, and best cut ingredients of anyone in the class. 

Zira: Of what, though?

DJ’s talents lie in alchemy, and Zira is very aware of this.

Zira: You are very good at exploding things, and I fear this talent will extend to everything you do.

DJ: I want to make breakfast, Zira! How hard can it be to make toast?

very hard

DJ does eventually do the toast thing.

Dox: DJ gets his bread out.

@the-grey-hunt​ as DM: Roll for toast.

Dox rolls pretty high, so DJ’s first attempts at making toast go well!

DM: DJ did just make toast perfectly competently in front of you. 

Helio: Yeah, but Zira's still pressing X to doubt.

Dox:  I can't believe I wasted my Nat 20 on toast.

Dox makes some more toast for everyone else but one of them is pretty charcoaled and that goes to Bob ( @thechaoticwave​) since he can’t smell or taste. 

Helio: Zira isn’t laughing in DJ’s face, but the energy is there.

Rhodey ( @rebaobsessions​) gets a rather burnt piece as well but it’s Tony who gets a good piece because DJ’s feeling apologetic.

DJ to Tony: I made toast and didn’t even burn it!

Tony’s still reeling from the dream and the leather glove Bob threw at his head this morning.

Tony: Then why does Rhodey’s bread look rather burnt?

DJ asks for privacy from Zira so he can talk to Tony.

Zira: Have fun! Don't commit any murder!

DJ and Tony have a pretty heartfelt conversation as DJ apologizes for what happened yesterday. Tony’s a little uncertain about the apology because he did deserve it but DJ’s insistent.

They tie it up with talking about their upcoming mission.

DJ: Now we're gonna go and try not to get killed by a bunch of bugbears. This is gonna suck.

DJ then rushes off to make toast for Clint but doesn’t roll very well.

DJ, handing toast to Clint: If it makes you feel better, Bob's was worse.

Clint: It doesn’t.

Tony has a talk with Rhodey about some suspicious stuff Bob did.

Tony: Hey, uh, Rhodey...have you...uh...noticed anything...odd about Bob?

Rhodey probably internally: what the fuck isn’t odd about Bob

Rhodey: Odd?

Tony: (says something buckwild about Bob seeing things that aren’t there)

Rhodey: ...huh.

Rhodey does agree to keep an eye on things with Tony.

Rhodey: What's Bob's name today?

Tony: I have no fucking idea. I'm just calling him Bob. 

Rhodey: So, you haven't asked yet. Good to know.

Tony’s a little sad since he had a good nickname for Bob the previous day.

Tony: What do you think he'd do if I call him Riff-Raff? 

Rhodey: I have no idea. 

Tony turns around. 

Tony: Hey, Riff-Raff! 

Bob doesn't respond. 

Tony: Well, that answers that. 

Reba in the lurking chat: Rhodey stares doubtfully at Tony’s back

We head to Cragmaw Castle! Clint volunteers to sneak.

Zira: That is horrifically structurally unsound. Good luck.

DM: Clint's character in a nutshell: dirty 20 followed immediately by a nat 1

We all have red cloaks from the Redbrands and we make sure we’re ready to go in.

DM to Bob: Your beak is still visible; there's not a lot you can do to hide that.

@imagine1117​: Look down.

We’re all dressed to go bluff our way through the castle!

Zira: Tony, you are very good at bullshit. I think you should go first.

thanks for putting me on the spot, helio

Tony does manage to bluff their way past the guards by saying they scrammed from Briarbane because things went south. They gain access to the castle.

We (Tony & Zira) have a chat with a goblin sentry where Zira is critiquing their structurally unsound choice of a hideout.

Zira: This is absolutely terribly unsafe.

Goblin: What - do you want to go build something?

Tony: This is absolutely awesome and has great atmosphere.

Goblin: See - this guy gets it!

Tony says goodbye by telling him to have fun guarding. We’re then left to our own ends to find the boss who won’t be pleased with us having left Briarbane.

Zira: I assume the boss is behind the trap, because they're usually cowards.

We get further into the castle and there’s an area hidden behind a curtain. Tony suggests investigating and Rhodey and Bob take him up on it.

Reba: I roll 14 for stealth.

DM: Okay! (dice clattering on table)

There’s a monster that drops from the ceiling!

imagine: Is [the grick] slimy? 

DM: Sure.

The grick goes down in no time.

DJ: Hey. Hey, you! (launches Magic Missile) Bitch. 

Bob notices some people behind the curtain. Luna and then Rhodey both go to investigate. Rhodey notices a goblin’s foot behind the altar in the room.

DM: I forgot to roll initiative for some people. 

Me: WHICH PEOPLE 

DM: Don't worry about it. 

imagine: We're worrying!

Me: Of course we're going to worry!

A goblin springs out from behind the altar and tries to attack Rhodey. It misses. DJ then attempted to whack the goblin with his quarterstaff but misses. Tony ran in and then shouted at the goblin to stop attacking because they were allies.

DM: For the record, because of how rounds work, Tony ran in and asked why they were fighting you guys simultaneously as DJ tried to hit him with his quarterstaff.

Helio: So Zira slips over to the doorway to the room, and sees Mom trying to commit murder, Dad attempting to soothe hurt feelings, and her brother doing whatever the fuck he’s doing.

Dox: Also trying to commit murder!

Bob unsuccessfully tries to set the goblin on fire.

There’s another goblin that springs out and this one looks more like a priest and notices our red cloaks and demands an explanation. Tony bullshits one about being from Briarbane.

DM (to me): Roll deception. He's going to roll competing insight - natural one. Don't even bother. He believes you instantly.

Rhodey “intimidates” the first goblin into giving up his weapon. It’s “intimidates” because he rolled a 21 and the goblin got a nat 20 so the goblin grudgingly handed over his scimitar because he was in the wrong.

Reba: I'm trying to get Rhodey to accumulate odd weapons.

We get out of the religious goblins’ way and Tony tells the first goblin to look before he attacks next time since otherwise he might get hurt. The advice is taken seriously.

Once we’re out in private we have a discussion on what to do the next time we meet some goblins. Tony is very serious about telling them that there will be no setting people on fire (to Bob) and no explosions (to DJ) since they will be talking their way through the encounters. So future encounters mean no raising weapons! He drills this into their heads.

DJ: I wanted to protect Mom!

Rhodey covers his mouth to stop laughing.

Rhodey: That’s great, but I don’t need protection.

Tony: But it’s a sweet thought, isn’t it, Hubby?

Everyone in the VC cracks up laughing.

Rhodey: Hubby?

Bob: Is that better or worse than "Rhodeo”?

Zira is confused about when we actually got married but then realizes it’s another nickname. Just a bad one that is not worse than Rhodeo.

Tony: You love all my nicknames. Don’t even lie.

We continue on this vein.

DM: Clint is still there, by the way.

thechaoticwave: I give him another arrow and bolt.

DM: Goddamn it.

Rhodey is decidedly unimpressed with Zira mentioning Rhodeo.

Rhodey: Please, I would take any nickname over “Rhodeo.”

Zira, cheerfully: Okay, Mom!

We continue onwards and don’t run into anymore issues aside from two hobgoblins. Rhodey rolls a great performance check after Tony says he has to walk in like he’s supposed to be there. The hobgoblins are easily enough fooled and direct us to where the boss is as Tony asks if he’s in the usual place.

Most of the group is really uncertain about going to where the boss is so Tony opts for majority opinion. Clint pulls them back and they do end up knocking on the boss’s door.

Bob hides behind Clint since he can’t hide his beak. He also stuffs his new glass staff into Tony’s bag of holding.

thechaoticwave: How tall is Clint? 

DM: Hang on, let me Google how tall Jeremy Renner is.

Our employer is in the room! Along with one bugbear, one pet wolf, and one drow (who is working for the Black Spider). They’re irritated to see us but we’re still in disguise and Tony tries to bluff his way through it but we reach a stalemate.

Bob really wants to set things on fire and asks Tony if he can. Tony nods; Rhodey catches the nod. The three of them get in a surprise round!

Bob heads over to our employer and heals him some.

This is the first time we’ve spoken to Ryss since session 1.

Bob: Hey, what's crackalackin? 

We’re in actual combat and Dox realizes something important about our combat order...

Dox: When did Clint go? 

DM: FUCK

The drow - badly injured - transforms into a mirror image of Rhodey! ...They’re still on fire.

Reba: I want to hit the drow.

DM: What drow? There's just Rhodey.

Mid-combat, Bob asks Tony for his glass staff. I take up an entire action to throw the staff right to him. One awesome DEX save later and Bob catches it.

Zira moves to attack the drow, who still looks like Rhodey. She switches personalities to 465.

DM: So 465 doesn’t give a shit about Rhodey?

Helio: 465 doesn’t give a shit about anyone.

We defeat the drow and the bugbear and the wolf! And there’s loot! And Ryss is okay! We have a map to the Lost Mine!

Reba about the bag of holding: It's an Armory of Holding and a Bag of Healing.

Clint heads off with Ryss (several bolts and arrows later) once we sneak out the castle the back way. The rest of the group will head off to the Lost Mine next session!

Aaaaand that’s a wrap! (And so much bullshitting but surprisingly not many lies.)

#rebaobsessions #heliocentricgeometric #thechaoticwave #doxblogsstuff #the-grey-hunt #imagine1117 #there was so much bullshitting #it was so much fun to have tony say that stuff #d&d campaign

[jahaanofmenaphos]

Art by the awesome @tommieglenn!

Of Gods and Men Summary:

When the gods returned to Gielinor, their minds were only on one thing: the Stone of Jas, a powerful elder artefact in the hands of Sliske, a devious Mahjarrat who stole it for his own ends and entertainment. He claims to want to incite another god wars, but are his ulterior motives more sinister than that? And can the World Guardian, Jahaan, escape from under Sliske’s shadow?

Read the full work here:

ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN

FANFICTION.NET

TUMBLR CHAPTER INDEX

QUEST 07: DISHONOUR AMONG THIEVES

QUEST SUMMARY:

Due to his status as the World Guardian, Jahaan wound up as part of Zamorak’s heist team. Their task? Steal the Stone of Jas from Sliske and return its power to Zamorak. Jahaan gets to learn more about a god propaganda had always skewed, but will he be on board with Zamorak’s plan in the end...

CHAPTER 1: TRAVELLER’S TALE

Jahaan had always existed as a ‘have sword’ and ‘will travel’ kind of person.

He had run across a few hapless souls in his travels, requesting his assistance in one way or another, and he’d obliged as much as he could - being an adventurer, it came with the territory. Then there were those people that weren’t as much ‘hapless’ as they were ‘helpless’, like a chef that didn’t have the right ingredients and for some reason couldn’t just walk to the farm and get some himself; Jahaan tried to help them anyway. Reward was always promised, and he ate well that night.

Then there were the outright bizarre situations Jahaan didn’t realise he was stuck in the middle of until he was playing matchmaker between a yeti and a Fremennik queen, or brewing rum for pirates to keep the alcoholic zombies at bay, or stealing footwear for a genie who requested the ‘sole’ of the Mayor of Nardah.

Life in the adventuring world was crazy sometimes.

Now that he’d become the World Guardian, things had only gotten worse. Seems like everyone thinks Guthix’s ‘chosen one’ can solve their problems, and no amount of explaining the whole ‘right place, right time’ mantra helped. Still, if he was being brutally honest with himself, Jahaan quite liked the attention, the travelling, the questing… all the reasons he’d set off from Menaphos with sword in hand in the first place.

This time, he ended up playing matchmaking for trolls, gave marriage counselling to a seagull, helped liberate the fairies from the ork invaders, invented bacon and, best of all, dealt with penguins wanting to take over Gielinor and trying to freeze the desert with a portable fridge.

Sir Tiffy was right all along.

Still, he found it quite refreshing to not be dealing with any egocentric gods, or idiot Mahjarrat trying to ascend to godhood.

That was a nice change.

“...and then, the the goblin generals needed orange slices that weren’t orange, some maggots that weren’t bland, and some bread that wasn’t crunchy!”

Jahaan had finally met up with Ozan all the way back in Varrock after he’d promised to help Queen Ellamaria decorate her palace garden - the ordeal was NOT worth Her Royal Snobbishness’ behaviour - and began recounting his tales since the two departed almost eight months ago. It had been a long time apart, yes, but life had separated them in the past. Some way, somehow, they always found one another, usually at a bar. This time it was The Blue Moon Inn, quite near the centre of the city, and therefore packed to the brim with the usual Varrockian riff-raff. Most of the attention was around the famous ex-vampyre slayer, Dr Harlow, who’d stopped by for an ale on his way east.

Chuckling, Ozan took another glug of his bitter. “So what did you do?”

“Dye and spice was involved. The pot ended up exploding anyway - shot through the roof and all! It’s a miracle there was anything edible after that.”

“Well, they are goblins.”

“Aye, that they are,” Jahaan concurred, finishing up his drink. The cup was refilled before he had time to protest. “So how’s Ariane?”

“She’s alright, but spending a lot of time in the Wizards’ Tower as of late. She had a premonition about the tower up in flames. Ariane was a seer - you gotta take visions like that seriously, y’know?”

Biting his bottom lip, Jahaan agreed, “Of course. These seer and gypsy types are frighteningly accurate sometimes…”

After Ozan finished his round, he looked out of the window into the night sky and remarked, “Damn, how long have we been in here?”

“Enough to build up quite a nice tab,” the barman sauntered over with a smug smile, wiping down the spillage underneath Ozan’s glass.

Wincing, Ozan ventured, “No chance I could reduce that tab with an enthralling tale of how I stole Sir Vyvin’s armour?”

“No chance,” the bartender asserted, his smile broadening. “And you owe me for the damage that little troll runt of yours has caused.”

Eyes wide, Ozan bulked, “Don’t call Coal a runt!”

“Whatever,” he slid across a messily written tally on papyrus. “Here’s the tab. Cough up.”

After shilling out his hefty portion of the tab, his coin pouch feeling an awful lot lighter now, Ozan and Jahaan departed to their rooms, saying they’d meet up in the morning to walk to Draynor together. Jahaan had some unfinished business with a chef in Lumbridge, so it wasn’t too far out of his way.

Jahaan entered his rented room and closed the door behind him, the sounds of the Varrockian bustle fading into the background. 

However, that didn’t last for long; the familiar sounds of a teleport spell alerted him to the intruder’s presence first, and he drew his swords in the direction of the disruption.

Soldiers had come into the war hospital in Al Kharid telling stories of a twisted, hybrid of a woman. Something inhuman, but not like any race they’d ever encountered. She was Zamorak’s right hand, a fierce general under his command. Gold-plated armour clawed around her bony form, her skin iron-like with patches of something that resembled normal flesh, but hardened and slightly scaly. Magenta energy twirled itself around her arms and wrists constantly, a low crackle becoming white noise in Jahaan’s mind. Her eyes were a striking shade of pink, too, matching the gem she had embedded in her forehead.

“Greetings, World Guardian,” her voice was harsh and brittle as she remarked, “You are not a hard man to find.”

Jahaan edged a couple of inches backwards, allowing the tall woman room to breathe. “I know you. You were at the Battle of Lumbridge.”

“Moia,” the woman introduced, simply. “Your swords. I’m not here to parry. Put them away.”

“A stranger just barged into my hostel room. Forgive me if I’m less than welcoming.”

Sighing, Moia rubbed the crystal on her forehead. “Very well. I come here on behalf of my master. He wishes to recruit you to retrieve something of his. The reward will be handsome.”

“No need to mince words - you want me to steal something,” this wasn’t the first time he’d been requested to ‘retrieve’ something. Jahaan didn’t mind - it paid for his meals, after all. “What’s the prize?”

“The Stone of Jas.”

Jahaan did a double take, his expectations shooting up. “Oh yeah? And who’s your master?”

“The rightful god of Gielinor, Lord Zamorak.”

...and his expectations were thus cut down a little bit. “Yeah, I haven’t had many dealings with Zamorakians.”

“Isn’t it time you rectify that?” Moia suggested, impatience bubbling under her desperate attempt to appear civil. “I did not see you fighting for Saradomin in Lumbridge. There is hope for you yet.”

“Yeah, but didn’t Zamorak lose at Lumbridge?” the remark wasn’t meant to sound as insulting as it did, but when Jahaan saw the mist boiling around Moia’s palms, he regretted his careless tongue.

Swallowing hard, Moia forced the mist to decapitate. “They were dark days. Zamorak is healing, and will get revenge upon those who fought against him. But right now, there are more pressing matters. I repeat: the Stone of Jas.”

Jahaan inquired, “Why does Zamorak want to hire me? I’ve never exactly seen eye-to-eye with his chaos ideology.”

“My lord believes you are instrumental, and if he does, then so do I,” Moia explained, brushing her fringe from her eyes. “We are in need of your… unique skills.”

“Because I’m the World Guardian?” Jahaan surmised. It wasn’t a hard guess.

“Precisely. Somehow, your fate is bound to the events that are unfolding. We wish for you to be on the right side of history. Zamorak requests a meeting. Agree, and you shall discover where your true loyalties should lie. Assist in our mission, and you get to strip Sliske of his power source and end his little farce once and for all.”

“Well, when you put it that way…” Jahaan began to grin. “The least I could do is hear him out.”

Moia didn’t smile. Jahaan didn’t think she was capable. Instead, she retrieved a device from her utility belt. It was a tiny little box with a dial on it. Nothing fancy. Handing it to Jahaan, she stated, “Use this to be transported to our headquarters. You will arrive promptly on Erysail at full sun.”

Sheathing his swords, Jahaan took the device, and after a brief ‘farewell’, Moia teleported herself away. Jahaan watched her form fade away, utterly baffled, fiddling with the device in his hands as a reminder that he didn’t just dream that encounter.

Slumping down on the edge of the bed, he tried to think why Moia looked so familiar, and yet so alien at the same time. She didn’t match the description of any race he’d ever heard of, let alone encountered. That gem in her forehead was rather beautiful, he thought to himself, trying to unravel the mysteries of this woman. It looked like… like the Mahjarrat gems. Was she another female Mahjarrat, like Enakhra? She wasn’t at the Ritual, and she doesn’t look completely like a Mahjarrat. A half-breed, perhaps? Is that possible?

Suddenly, it tweaked in Jahaan’s mind - It IS possible! Sliske mentioned Lucien mated with a human woman. Could Moia be the offspring?

Feeling rather chuffed at his deductions, Jahaan was tempted to ask for confirmation upon next meeting her, but realised in good time that might be a little rude.

Removing his sword belt, Jahaan let these thoughts twirl on inside his mind as he began to unwind. Erysail was three days away, so he had time to decide whether or not he was going to take the meeting.

“What a tantalising proposition!”

“Gahh!” Jahaan bolted forwards, his hand instinctively clutching into the handle of his sheathed dagger. He shot around with indignation in his eyes and saw Sliske materialise in the doorway. “Have you been here the whole time?!”

Tutting, Sliske replied, “Honestly Jahaan, what’s the use of having the ability to see into the Shadow Realm if you never use it?”

“That’s not answering my question!”

“Ah, you mean, did I hear your conversation with Moia? But of course! The girl was naive to think she could corner you without my knowing. Oh, and take your hand away from that little knife of yours. We both know you’re not going to use it.”

Jahaan didn’t budge. “Why are you here, Sliske?”

“Well, it’s like this,” Sliske began, “I know of Zamorak's plan to steal the Stone of Jas, and you know I know, but they don’t know that I know that they know.”

Jahaan shook his muddled head. “Wait... what?”

“Ha! Did I lose you? In short, I know that one of Zamorak’s agents has found the Stone, and they’ll come for it soon enough. When they do, I'll be waiting.”

“So... you want them to find it? Why?”

“My contest has slowed somewhat since Bandos's death. Sometimes a Mahjarrat must provide his own entertainment. I think it’s time to spice things up,” Sliske explained, casually making himself at home on the edge of Jahaan’s bed, his long and bony fingers exploring the floral patterns embedded in the duvet. Jahaan followed him with a calculated glare. “You know, you really aren’t a very welcoming host. You haven’t even offered me a drink.”

“You were saying?” Jahaan impatiently pressed, thinking the sooner the Mahjarrat got to the point, the sooner his hostel room would stop resembling a menagerie for the criminally insane.

“Right, yes, spicing things up - that's where you come in. If I were you, I’d lead them on, go and meet with ol’ Zammy. Then, wait until the most deliciously dramatic moment to betray the usurper! Together, we could have some real fun on this one.”

“And who says I’ll play along?” Jahaan challenged, smiling wryly. “Maybe I’ll like what Zamorak’s selling. Maybe I’ll join his cause.”

“Maybe you will... but that would be terribly boring now, wouldn’t it? You know, Zammy really is a lot of fun to deceive. Oh, how I used to play with him all those years ago…” Sliske stood up from the bed, his hunched over posture doing him a favour as Jahaan doubted he could stand up straight without hitting his head on the ceiling. “But I think you’re much more fun to play with, Janny.”

Jahaan forced himself not to flinch as Sliske approached him, half-lidded eyes and an amused smile carved into his striped face. He failed and shivered ever so slightly when Sliske cupped his chin, bony fingers digging lightly into his throat, tilting his head upwards.

The grip on his dagger tightened. Jahaan gulped, hissing sharply through gritted teeth, “Get off me.”

This only made Sliske smile more at the challenge; he leered down closer. “Or what?”

Sliske had barely gotten the last syllable out before Jahaan had his blade across the Mahjarrat’s throat, returning the challenging glare.

Sniffing a laugh, Sliske drawled, “Well, I did say to look me in the eyes as you slit my throat. So, what are you waiting for?”

He forced himself further into the blade, biting down on his grey flesh hard enough to draw a thin line of blood as his face loomed closer to Jahaan’s, his defiant eyes never leaving Jahaan’s green ones.

Matching this, Jahaan twisted the blade in such a way that it pressed tightly against the Mahjarrat’s jugular, watching with satisfaction as Sliske’s usual calm and collected expression flashed briefly with fleeting panic.

Sliske licked his lips and flashed a daring, thin smile. Seconds ticked on like years; Jahaan held his gaze steady, dancing across Sliske’s yellow iris’ which had an unmistakable glint in them.

It’d be so easy, Jahaan’s eyes narrowed into slits, steadying his breathing in order to prevent his hand from shaking, which was easier said than done. From the look in his eyes, it was almost as if Sliske was daring him to do it.

I could. I could and he couldn’t stop me. He’s pressed too hard into the blade. It’d barely take a second and I could put him out of my misery. Out of everyone’s misery.

Now his hands really were shaking; Jahaan couldn’t look Sliske in the eyes anymore and instead rested his glare upon Sliske’s jaw, which soon transformed into a cruel upturned sneer. Blood trickled down Sliske’s neck as Jahaan’s unsteady grip caused the blade to scrape against his flesh; Jahaan could feel the rhythm of Sliske’s pulse beating against the metal, but he knew his own heartbeat was going even faster. As the blade dug dangerously deeper into the flesh, Sliske inhaled a sharp breath, hissing through the pain that came with it. 

Jahaan’s grip on the handle tightened; he was properly shaking now, closing his eyes in a desperate attempt to keep some resolve.

But it didn’t work.

With a foul curse, Jahaan threw the blade to the ground, a loud metallic clang on the battered wooden floorboards reverberating around the room. He tried to gain some distance from the Mahjarrat by backing himself up against the wall. By accident he met Sliske’s gaze, and it was a mistake, for it was like Sliske’s eyes were claws that grabbed his throat, squeezing tightly and cutting off the circulation. It made Jahaan’s attempt to recover his breathing even more of a struggle.

Sliske wiped the blood from his neck with his palm, examining it amusedly.

“I knew you couldn’t do it,” he remarked, a malicious undertone layered in his voice.

Gulping, Jahaan’s eyes fell to the floor as he rubbed the back of his neck and whispered, “Leave, Sliske. Please… just go.”

Raising a curious eyebrow, Sliske examined Jahaan like he was looking at him for the very first time. “You're an interesting specimen, Jahaan,” he finally spoke up. “Very well, I shall take my leave. After all, you have to regain your composure for the big meeting with Zamorak. Until next time... ta-ta, my dear…”

Blowing him a taunting kiss, Sliske vanished. Once he'd gone, Jahaan slid down the wall and onto the floor, his hand unconsciously still at his neck while his heart remained firmly in his throat.

Jahaan didn’t wait for Ozan next morning. Instead, he slid an apologetic note under the door, lying about an emergency - vague enough to cover all bases, specific enough to be believable. From the silence inside when Jahaan rested his ear against the splintered wooden door, Ozan was still sound asleep, and would likely stay that way for the next few hours. So, huddled up in a second-hand cloak he’d acquired, Jahaan set off into the brisk chill of a Varrockian dawn.

He wasn’t ready to explain himself to Ozan, how he had the opportunity to dispatch Gielinor’s greatest adversary, but couldn’t. But at the same time, Jahaan didn’t think he could take hiding it from Ozan much longer. Thus, the easiest option was to avoid him altogether, for now at least, until he’d figured things out in his own mind.

After tossing and turning for a lot of the night, Jahaan wasn’t much clearer on anything, so why a walk in the freezing cold would help is anyone’s guess. Nevertheless, along he trudged.

Why couldn’t I do it? The question haunted his mind relentlessly. I’ve killed people for less. Why couldn’t I kill him?

Jahaan sighed to himself, hoisting his backpack further up towards his shoulders, marching onwards, going nowhere.

“Damnit Sliske…” he muttered under his breath. “How dare you get in my head…”

DISCLAIMER:

As Of Gods and Men is a reimagining, retelling and reworking of the Sixth Age, a LOT of dialogue/characters/plotlines/etc. are pulled right from the game itself, and this belongs to Jagex.

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#runescape #dishonour among thieves #sliske

[sl0anart]

Felt compelled to redraw my first ever dnd character.. I love my crime daughter Riff Raff

#arcane trickster #dnd #dnd5e #dnd rogue #goblin #original art #Riff Raff the goblin

[caelin-2020]

So, my sibling is Non-binary, and was complaining about the lack of Gender neutral ways to say "Ladies and Gentlemen". So I've made a list for them of ones that I made or found, and decided to share with the world.

Gender Neutral Ways to Say "Ladies and Gentlemen"

Ladies, Gentlemen, and Those out there that know better

Guys, Gals, and Non-binary Pals

Ladies, Gentlemen, and Friends beyond the binary

Ladies, Gentlemen, Gays and Theys

Theydies and Gentlethems

Thems and Femmes

Ladies, Gentlemen, and Beans of different varieties

Friends and Foes

Dorks and Dweebs

Allies, Enemies, and Innocents

Kings, Queens, and Royal In-Betweens

Kings, Queens, and Royal Fiends

Riff-Raffs and Street Rats

Friends and Frenemies

Ghouls and Goblins

Freaks and Geeks

Hoes I'm gonna get with, and Hoes I've already got with

Simps and Pimps

Greetings Loved Ones, let's take a journey

Those that tip, and Those that will learn to

Distinguished Guests and Enemies of the State

Baddies and Gentlehoes

Fans, Haters, and First-Timers

Heroes, Villains, and Those of us with more interesting storyarch's

Bitches, Bros, and Non-binary Hoes

Folks, Entities, and Meat-Suits

Mother's and Their respective fuckers

Mothers and Fuckers of the Jury

Friends, Foes, and Varying Hoes

Motherfuckers and Cocksuckers

Bitches, Dicks, and Whores

#lgbtqia #nonbinary #pride #queer pride #gay pride #siblings

[karanokai]

Karanokai Noykin

Karanokai Noykin

THE BASICS ––– –

Age: Early 20′s

Birthday: Unknown

Race: Xaela Au Ra

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Marital Status: Married

Server: Goblin/Crystal Data Center Wanderer

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE ––– –

Hair: Blue with a few pale streaks in her bangs, usually kept short and choppy.

Eyes: Blue with red limbal rings

Height: 4′11

Build: Slender, yet toned

Distinguishing Marks: Extra scales are dotted about her body here and there.

Common Accessories: Often wears a flower in her hair and usually carries a Morin Khuur instrument and a bow.

PERSONAL ––– –

Profession: Animal trainer and tamer.

Hobbies: Playing her instrument, trying new foods, archery/target practice, horse/chocobo riding, sparring, learning about new creatures

Languages: Eorzean, Doman, several Xaela dialects

Residence: Tends to wander. Currently based out of Tailfeather due to her poor decision making skills.

Birthplace: The Azim Steppes

Religion: Old Auri Gods

Patron Deity: Nhaama 

Fears: Excommunication from her tribe, being branded a heretic while in Ishgard, failure in general.

RELATIONSHIPS ––– -

Spouse: Tavin Deissa

Children: None, possibly in the future.

Parents: Alive. Still with her tribe on the Steppes.

Siblings: Several still living within the tribe and several more not.

Other Relatives: Many, some living in her tribe and some that moved on to join others. 

Pets: None at the moment.

TRAITS ––– -

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between /  Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION ––– –

Smoking Habit: Rarely smokes unless on a special occasion. Drugs: Only if traditions require her to partake. Alcohol: Drinks socially/culturally and enjoys it.

RP HOOKS ––– –

Karanokai is from the Azim Steppes and is a member of the Noykin Xaela tribe. She’s bound to have helped break or train horses and other animals, whether to sell in Reunion or to simply trade between other tribes. Recently she’s come to Eorzea after seeing some of the strange “horsebirds” she spotted travelers riding on a visit to Reunion and developed an interest in learning more about them, as they remind her of gentler Yol birds. If you have a character that needs a trained pet or a mount, whether it be something simple or outlandish, she’s someone who can make it happen.

Her interest in Chocobos brought her into Eorzea where she joined up with a traveling caravan that sold salt, spices, and other dry goods. Along the way she met many people and worked alongside quite a few mercenaries, some she still remains friends with although some have became enemies or even rivals. There for security, she found it tiresome chasing off riff raff rather fast and eventually found herself bored and left. For some time she stayed in the Shroud near Gridania where she worked with the Chocobo hands and hunters until she heard tell of a place called Tailfeather. Intrigued she set out to find it, and has since made a living as a chocobo hunter there. Travelers or anyone interested in animal training might have heard of her, as she tends to stand out.

Most hunters in Tailfeather have partners, and she was no exception. Your character might have been hers, or a rival to her. Most of her experience in Tailfeather was straightforward, but there were times where she had to face poachers or may have even possibly made a mistake that resulted in her needing help for various reasons. There’s many options in this area that can be used to help facilitate interaction. Passing travelers always interest her, if nothing else. More so if they have a pet or chocobo in tow.

Tailfeather has trade lines to Ishgard and she’s been into the city on business before, usually to deliver a Chocobo to some noble’s stable. This opens many interactions up with Isghardians of all flavors and ways to meet anyone else who might be there for other reasons, such as mercenaries, merchants, or even chirurgeons. Some types ignorant of Au Ra might mistake her for some form of dragon, although with the end of the dragon threat that may not be so big of a problem among most people. 

Overall Karanokai can be somewhat difficult to get along with but if her tough outer shell is broken through a sweeter core awaits. She’s very prideful of her heritage and will start trouble if she views something as insulting to her or her tribe and is not above starting a fight if she thinks that she’s being disrespected. She will tease those she views as weak, and can sometimes get carried away and become antagonistic. Usually she is apologetic after the fact... at least if she realizes that she’s done wrong, and she doesn’t necessarily follow the same logic that Eorzeans might. Integration into this new society has not been easy for her!  

CONTACT INFORMATION  ––– –

I roleplay in game, over discord, google docs, Tumblr, and I’m willing to try whatever other methods you might use within reason if I like the sound of them. Contact me on Tumblr DM’s if you’re interested in speaking through said other methods (discord, etc.) and we can discuss things. I’m also available in game, if you can catch me on this character.

I’m looking for story, so if you’re not wanting that then we wont likely have fun together nor get along. Dark themes are fine, mature themes are fine, blatant ERP is -not- fine.

#ffxiv rp #ffxiv roleplay #ffxiv oc #balmung #balmung rp #au ra female #ff14 xaela #female xaela #xaela #au ra xaela #crystal rp #character sheet

[karenhikari]

The Ones Who Wander-6. Ends and Discoveries

Hello everyone! I'm coming back after another school-induced hiatus. I can't believe it took me so long to finish. I swear it's been written for weeks, but I just couldn't finish editing it. It's ridiculous!

Also, school is terrible, man, I just want to stay at home and write, but apparently people think I should learn Physics instead. Bullshit, I tell you.

Anyways, we're finally going to be meeting more of the children. In this chapter we still don't get to see all of them, but some of my babies finally appear, and after having waited so long for you to meet them, I'm thrilled. This is such an important chapter and I know I've been saying that I just want to get the introductory chapters over with so you can actually get feels for the children, but you just can't jump this kind of things.

Um... Also, I've seen some fanfics that include a beta note within the author note, so I decided to ask beautiful geminalupus if we could do it and, being the awesome person who she is, she agreed! So... welcome to this new section of TOWW and give a warm welcome to geminalupus!

Beta note:

Hey everyone! I'm geminalupus and I'm so happy to be beta-ing this story! I guess just some general advice for this chapter is to enjoy the last bit of time in the Isle of the Lost and brace yourselves, because next chapter we're in Auradon! Also if you ever forget who any of the children are or their parents Karen is adding a handy guide at the bottom of this chapter!

So, Karen here again. I don't know what else to say, except that I'm terribly excited about this and that I really hope you like this as much as I have loved writing this. Also, I'm trying to explain who the kids are, their parentage and their ages within the story, but I understand there are many names and it can get confusing, so, at geminalupus' suggestion and like she has so graciously said, I will be adding my personal note below. Also, soon you will be seeing over and over, so do not worry.

Here we go!

Ends and Discoveries

They still had five more days before they left when Mal received another unexpected visit. Fortunately, it wasn't Hades.

Prodotes was the one who knocked on her door and notified her that, while they had repeatedly told the villains that Bargain Castle was now out of their reach, that hadn't stopped one of them from trying to surpass the barrier.

"What now?" Mal answered in annoyance.

"There's someone at the door who insists in speaking with you," Prodotes explained.

"And he is...?"

"It's a woman, actually. Anastasia Tremaine, the daughter of―"

"I know who her mother is," Mal cut him. "What does she want here?"

"She says she will only speak to you."

"Then she won't speak at all," she shrugged, turning back to the letter she had been writing before in a clear signal for Prodotes that he was dismissed.

Fifteen minutes later, Anastasia had not left the border of the Embassy and Mal was starting to feel curious as to why she had such a strong resolve when it came to seeing her.

"Let her in," Mal ordered Servus, who nodded awkwardly before doing as he'd been told.

"Don't touch me, I know my way," Mal heard Anastasia say before there was a knock on her door.

"Come in," the daughter of Maleficent ordered.

With a grunt, Servus opened the door, allowing Anastasia to enter.

"You're dismissed, close the door," Mal said, not even raising her eyes once the daughter of Tremaine stood in front of her desk. For a moment after the echo of the door shutting had turned into an expectant silence, neither of them said anything.

At the end, Mal sighed and stopped her writing so she could finally look up to meet Anastasia's eyes.

"Take a seat," she commanded with no circumlocution as she pointed to the mahogany chairs placed in front of her desk. With a stiff nod, Anastasia did as she was told, her sunken eyes staring almost blankly back at Mal. "I suppose you didn't scream at my goblins for forty-five minutes just because you wanted to welcome me back, did you?" Mal questioned sternly.

Anastasia, bony cheekbones projecting long shadows that lengthen her insipid face, shook her head. "I came here to talk to you," she let out, voice hoarse.

"Well, then? What do you have to say?" the daughter of Maleficent inquired bluntly.

"You're leaving the Isle soon," she began, fidgeting with a strand of her disregarded hair. "I... I heard that you'll take some of us with you, the ones that-"

"Excuse me?" Mal laughed, not even trying to hide the taunt of her voice.

"You'll take some of the islanders with you, at least that's what-"

"Even if it were so, what makes you think you even have the right to come and question me about it?" Mal inquired with a prideful smirk.

"You don't understand," Anastasia breathed out heavily. "I couldn't care less about me."

"Forgive me if I doubt your word," the daughter of Maleficent raised an eyebrow.

"No, you don't understand," Anastasia repeated. "I don't... I know that Auradon couldn't care less about me, trust me, I'm aware that I... that no one there can remember a single good thing I did and I've long since accepted the fact that I'll stay here and rot and die in this place."

"Well, Anastasia, if you're so cunning and already know that, explain to me why you're here making me waste my time."

"I don't care what happens to me either!" the older woman said, raising both of her hands to make a small fuss. "You don't understand, Maleficent! I don't... I don't care about me. I know what I did to be here, I earned it."

"Then what-?"

"This is not about me, Maleficent!" Anastasia let out, slamming her open palm on the desk, raising her voice for first the time. "I don't care about me, I can live here. I can, but my son..." she said, her voice barely a whisper in her shaking lips. "Anthony, you've seen him. My son doesn't deserve this place."

"You expect me to believe you?" Mal questioned, unhearing to her complete name. It was, after all, common knowledge in the Isle that her mother had named her after herself. Though, to be fair, no one had dared called her that while the real Maleficent wandered the Isle.

"I know better than to expect something from others. Nothing is free, I know that," the daughter of Tremaine claimed with a flat voice.

"Then why, may I ask, did you argue so strongly to be let in?"

"I don't care about the cost, I want him to get out of here," Anastasia said, skinny arms clinging to herself as she crossed them over her chest.

"Who even said that was even a possibility?" Mal laughed, knowing there were still a few more days to go before she could make the announcement of the evacuation public. She was tempted to do so, however, when Anastasias empty eyes looked straight back at her.

"Do you know nothing about my family, Maleficent?" the daughter of Tremaine began after a few frozen seconds. "Through the years we've been called a lot of things―liars, thieves, riff-raff, cruel. But above all of this, there's something everyone agrees on―we're determined. Everyone has a price, tell me yours and whatever you desire you shall have."

"I doubt you have anything that peaks my interest," Mal crackled. "Therefore I suggest you leave before-"

"Try me," Anastasia hurriedly answered, her voice an octave higher.

"My word is final, Anastasia, get out of here," Mal rolled her eyes, standing up so she could direct the woman to the door and make sure she didn't pocket any of her belongings.

Instead of following the implicit order, Anastasia began to frantically search for something in the folds of her discolored dress. Upon finding the small package she'd been looking for, Anastasia nearly tossed it on Mal's table.

"What is that?"

"Find out for yourself," Anastasia spat, straightening herself in the chair. When they returned to her sides, Anastasia's hands shook.

Of all the flaws Mal had, she could honestly say that the one she despised the most was her curiosity. Everything could have been easier if only she'd stuck to the plan and kicked Anastasia out.

Refraining a sigh, Mal returned to her desk and took the blue small bag in her hands. It was wrinkled, and its color, once a velvety deep blue, was nothing but a faint hue of turquoise now. Anastasia was delusional if she believed she would be impressed by such a thing.

However, the little bag was heavy, and again, showing off her fatal curiosity, Mal decided against simply throwing it back at Anastasia and opened it instead.

Cold metal met the tips of her fingers as soon as she slipped her hand into the wrapping, and the jingling of a chain, so small, suddenly became all that Mal could hear in the silent room.

It was silver, Mal was sure as soon as she'd taken it out, knowing eyes marveling at the delicacy of the work, gaping at the simple thought of something so pure surviving among the filth of the Isle. It wasn't a long chain. If Mal had worn it, the ornament would have barely reached the lapels of her jacket. It wasn't a complicated work either, only a plain, silver necklace.

What made Mal stare back at it in awe, however, was its pendant―from the fine necklace, unashamed and prideful, hung a sapphire the size of a small child's fist.

"Where did you steal this from?" Mal let out, still spellbound with the beauty of the item.

"That's none of your business," the daughter of Tremaine growled. "Get my son and my nieces out of here and the necklace is yours."

"What if I say no?" Mal inquired, her fingers wrapped around the silver chain like claws. Anastasia's lips trembled.

"Don't do that, Mal," she exhaled, sunken eyes wide with a plea.

"Give me a good reason to do as you say," she sneered.

"Listen, you've... you've been to Auradon. You've had a chance, don't take this away from them," the woman began, frantic eyes scanning Mal's features in the desperate search of the slightest nod of comprehension. "I don't want anything for me, I don't care what happens to me, but whatever that is, he doesn't deserve to pay for my mistakes. Neither do the girls. We chose this life, and we chose wrongly, but you've taken away the sole possibility of them ever electing what they want their lives to become. You're robbing these children of what they could be, what they would be if only they had been born somewhere else, somewhere that didn't force bloody knuckles and... and starvation on them."

There were few things Mal could have answered to Anastasia´s tear-rimmed eyes. She could have been honest, but this was the Isle―truth was often frowned upon. Besides, something else held her back―it was yet too early to ignite Anastasia's soul with hope. It was not the time to be honest. Not yet.

"Yeah? What if I told you some things are just the way they are?" Mal let out in a small voice, leaning down as she sat on her desk, her right arm supporting her weight on her leg so she became the only thing Anastasia was able to see.

"You'd be lying," Anastasia said, short from a whisper, reaching for the hand Mal had supported on her own knee. Anastasia was shaking so badly that Mal's own arm began to tremble with the contact.

"How are you sure of that?"

"I can see it," Anastasia pleaded. "You wouldn't have come back if you didn't believe there was something worthy waiting here."

"Get off me," Mal ordered, shaking off Anastasia's hand until she let go. The woman didn't even cling to her. "I don't know what you're talking about," Mal offered, her chest going up and down rapidly. "I don't care about what you've heard, but we all know that the only thing on this Island are leftovers, and if you think you can come and cry to get my pity you're dead wrong."

"Don't be like this, Maleficent," Anastasia whispered, her glassy eyes a black abyss. "I beg you, my son is not to blame for the mistakes I made."

"You're right, however," Mal continued, feeling her insides churn uncomfortably as she ignored Anastasia's desperation. "When you say that each of us have a price."

"What are you saying?" escaped Anastasia's dry lips.

"I don't care who you stole this from," Mal shrugged, tossing the precious necklet on her desk, where it fell unceremoniously. "I've never been greedy, and I don't care about money. On the other hand, what I really value is information."

"What does that even mean?" Anastasi whispered shakily.

"I mean that the Isle doesn't trust me. And they shouldn't, to be fair, as I'm working for the other... um... side now. But they trust you―why shouldn't they? You're on the same ship they are on."

"That's not true, I am not like them," Anastasia argued, making a small fuss with her hands. Her voice had come out with much more strength than everything she'd said during that afternoon. Interesting, Mal thought to herself.

"Oh, I can see you're different," Mal conceded. "But they think you are like them, and that's more than enough for me."

"What do you want then?" she questioned, her countenance seeming more composed.

"I want you to be my informant," Mal answered, no beat around the bush. "I want you to let me know whatever happens in the Isle. Who has been seen with who, new alliances, broken ones―anything and everything. Even what seems too small to matter, how many children attend Dragon Hall, everything."

"What for?"

"That's none of your business," Mal purred, a despiteful smile on her lips. "You want those punks out of here, don't you?"

At the mention of her family, Anastasia pursed her lips and looked down, her hands becoming fists.

"Every two days you'll write your discoveries down and put them in this little bag," Mal continued, forcing her voice to come out as a command as she snapped her fingers. On Anastasia's lap now rested a small, purple bag, its top sealed by two strings that formed a bow. In the center of the fabric, a dragon spreading its wings had been swung. "Only you and I can open that, but every two days one of my goblins will take it from you. You won't have to come and deliver it personally, don't worry. You only have to write the news down and my goblins will find it."

"What are you going to do with that information? What are you going to-?"

"Oh, if I were you I wouldn't ask so many questions," Mal replied with a nonchalant smile, jumping off her desk so she could direct Anastasia to the door again. "Do as I say and not only Anthony, but Drizella's daughters too will get out of here safe and sound."

"Don't hurt them," Anastasia whispered. "Whatever you do, don't hurt them. They are children, they don't know what they're doing, please don't hurt them."

"I assure you they will be treated like they deserve," Mal bowed, her voice a genuine pledge, even when her voice seemed threatening.

"Don't hurt them," Anastasia whispered a last time before she exited the room, both of her hands reaching for Mal's wrist, were they clung hard enough to bruise.

"Get off me," Mal repeated, voice lacking her usual harshness as she shook off Anastasia's hands once again.

"I'll give you anything you want, but don't touch a hair in their heads, I beg you."

"Don't come to my place again," Mal ordered. "I'll see that they get out of here."

"Thank you," Anastasia let out, short from a whisper, the escape of two forbidden words.

"I'm not doing this for you. And I'm not doing this for them either," Mal cut her. "Don't come here again, because I may not be so compassionate."

And with that, the youngest daughter of Lady Tremaine was out, along with her bony fingers that had gripped around Mal's wrists like claws and her trembling voice.

Long after she had left, long after the dark veil of the sky had brightened and Mal had gone down to serve breakfast for the kids, Anastasia's defeated voice was still sounding clear as a bell in Mal's head, the icy feeling of her fingers still around her wrist.

—*—*—

It was the day after Anastasia's visit that Mal had scheduled a more... pleasurable meeting.

Yen Sid, despite not having crossed her mind in the months since she'd left the Isle had become more interesting in the past few days. He was, after all, a powerful magician who had decided to stay behind in hopes of educating the islanders even when he had not earned the Isle himself.

Although his work had not been remunerated, Mal knew he was still standing on their side and had offered him a room at Bargain Castle, to show him that he was part of Auradon and to improve his living standard by taking him to a safer and cleaner environment.

Surprisingly, Yen Sid had refused, arguing that his old shack was all he needed. Yes, it was small and not very luxurious, but it served its purpose and kept him warm. Yen Sid wasn't an ambitious person, that was for sure, and instead he'd told Mal that he already had all that he needed. What they had agreed on, however, was the fact that Bargain Castle had too many empty rooms.

He'd said there were other people who needed a spare room more than he did.

At first, Mal hadn't understood what he was talking about, but upon a closer reflection she'd reached the conclusion that Yen Sid had been talking about the kids. And he wasn't wrong.

For years she'd seen Carlos spend the night at Jafar's store or even at Evie's room just to escape one of Cruella's drunken outbursts. For years as well she'd seen Jay nonchalantly brush off the fact that he'd rather pass the days stealing off at the bazar rather than go back and face his father's complaints and resentful eyes.

There was no way to know whether or not if it'd work, but perhaps it was time to prove that, while the Embassy was following Auradon's lead, it was doing so on its own accord, with a set of rules that were unheard to Auradon and a plan that could be changed if the occasion called for it.

By morning the next day, as they served breakfast in the boisterous dining room, Mal made a new announcement―from that day on, any of the children born in the Isle would be able to request a room in the embassy, be it to escape a disgruntled victim of robbery or to hide from a disappointed parent. She didn't add that, however, and settled for letting them know that the doors of Bargain Castle were now opened for them.

Of course, her new suggestion was soon met with arguments.

"What kind of joke is this?" Yzla inquired, playing with her fork.

"As I am not laughing I would assume it is not one," Mal counterattacked calmly.

"Let me guess, this is another one of Auradon's pitiful attempts to make amends with us," Desiree, Drizella's oldest daughter questioned.

You haven't seen half of Auradon's amends, Mal thought to herself.

"I wouldn't get Auradon involved in this," Mal rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, don't tell me," Doretta, Desiree's sister piped in, for once agreeing with Desiree. "First they send you and the food and now they have somehow convinced you to let us inside the castle? What for? To steal from us? Guess what, Mal, I doubt that we have anything Auradon would be interested in having."

"Well, though I must confess your deduction skills do exist, you are wrong," Mal deadpanned. "Having Bargain Castle transformed into a community dining room was a direct order from Auradon, but offering it for a shelter? They have no idea I'm doing it. They didn't order me to do it and they couldn't care less about what I do with the castle."

"Then why would you-"

"Because, Yzla, unlike Auradonians, I know this place," Mal cut her rapidly. "I'm offering a room right here, were your parents can't reach you. Take it or leave it, maybe I won't feel so generous tomorrow."

"And you expect us to believe in something like this, so out of nowhere, when you've never-"

"I'll do it," Ginny stood up, cutting off Anthony Tremaine's reply with nothing more than a glare of her green eyes.

"Pardon me?" the daughter of Maleficent questioned, turning around to face the other girl.

"It's your lucky day, Mal," Ginny snickered. "I volunteer as your guinea pig, in case your generous offer is still standing."

Mal didn't say that it wasn't her lucky day, from the look of the thin bruises around Ginny's neck, barely a hue of yellow now.

"Good," Mal nodded with a shrug. "Anyone else that wants to test my patience today?"

There were a few seconds of static silence, as her interlocutors turned to look at each other with something that was almost shyness. Finally, Ginny spoke up again.

"Claudine will stay too," she said, her hand going to the wrist of Frollo's daughter in an iron grip so she could pull the girl up.

"What?" Claudine hissed, staring back at Ginny in both rage and disbelief. Mal raised an eyebrow in query, but decided against asking why Ginny was suddenly making Claudine's decisions.

Surprisingly, the rest of the dining room did the same and stared back in silence for what had to be the first time in their lives. One could only handle so many strange things before even you started acting different, Mal supposed.

Ignoring them, Ginny gave Claudine a threatening look and, from what Mal could see, tightened her grip around the other's wrist before hissing something under her breath. Whatever Ginny said was lost in her low voice and the big hallway, but the truth was that Claudine's reaction was immediate―upon Ginny's words, Claudine turned her head down and gave a small nod, almost ashamed. Ginny huffed.

"Claudine will stay," Ginny said once more, icy eyes fixed upon Mal's.

"Good," Mal shrugged, turning on her heels to abandon the dining room. "Anyone else who wants to question me about my intentions is welcomed to do so."

Two days later, Yzla moved in with them as well.

Mal knew Ginny slept with a dagger under her pillow, and she was more than aware that Yzla still waited for the others to start eating before she so much as touched the fork she'd been given. Quite honestly, Mal hadn't been expecting anything less from them―she was still, after all, tempted to throw a blow at a petty princess from time to time and she couldn't count the times she'd refrained the urge to slam a spoon on the table when Evie tried to explain to her why there were more than one item that looked exactly the same albeit a little smaller.

She could live with it, with the distrust with which Anthony stared back at her, with the skepticism in Desiree's smirk. She could do so knowing that the day they wouldn't be able to do that anymore was coming closer.

—*—*—

When she finally announced the real reason behind her return to the Isle, Mal received all kinds of reactions―first disbelief, then confusion. Finally, the explosion.

Later, Mal would recall things thrown her way, disgruntled screams and sarcastic laughs, but at that moment, all she had focused on was the blood pulsing in her jugular, the breaths she forced to come out evenly, the words she was about to say.

"You have twenty-four hours starting right now to sort out your things," she declared with a stoic face. "I want all of you at the dock tomorrow at eleven o'clock in the morning."

"What if we're not tempted to visit Auradon?" someone hissed.

"Then I still want you at the dock because this is not a question and no one cares about your opinion," she smirked, the gesture cold and forced. "And don't worry, if you happen to forget about our departure I will personally see that you are reminded of it."

A round of growls and more screams followed, but no one dared say anything loud enough for Mal to understand, so she continued.

"Pack wisely, you're not coming back," she concluded, before turning on her heels to leave the room, the slamming of the door resounding through the walls.

It was almost done, she told herself. Almost done.

—*—*—

The next day, Mal was up so early Evie would have been proud of her, although she had little time to think about what the blue princess would have told her. It didn't matter―after all, her voluntary absence was soon to finish and Evie would be able to tell her whatever came to her mind face-to-face soon enough.

The first thing Mal made sure to put in order was her own luggage. Weirdly enough, Mal had three suitcases now, instead of the solitary one she'd arrived with. The reason was perhaps too obvious―back when she had left the Isle for the first time, she'd thought there was no need to pack more than a few jeans and an equal number of shirts. They would go back to the Isle soon, after all, once their parents owned the world and the barrier didn't exist.

Now, after realizing she didn't want her mother to hold any power, not only in Auradon, but in the Isle either, it was clear as could be that she had no desire to ever return to the Isle of the Lost.

No, this was the last time she would ever set foot in her old bedroom, the last time she'd sleep on that mattress that dripped dampness. The last time she would open the windows and then think better of it once the soiled air hit her nose.

She was going away for good.

Which meant that, this time, she had to pack all she actually wanted to keep, from clothes, old drawing notebooks and her mother's dusty magic books. Hence her multiplied number of bags.

She decided to wait for the children to eat breakfast, remembering ―much like she did every morning― the argument she'd had with Ginny during the first few days the dining room had actually worked. It all started because, until then, Mal had opted for leaving the kids to their own devices as she moved away to her bedroom, thinking ―not without reason― that they felt intimidated by her and would find themselves more at ease if she wasn't there. To Mal, it made sense.

Not so for Ginny, apparently, who thought she was enjoying a much better meal than the one she had served to them and only disappeared to try to cover it up. The truth was, Mal had been living on granola bars and canned food just as much as they had, but she couldn't do anything other than roll her eyes at a fuming Ginny.

So she had agreed to start eating with them, the dining room falling silent the first time she had appeared there, a simple, gray tray in her hand with the same frugal amount of food she was offering them placed on it.

Seriously, she was getting tired of this, she thought absently as she opened her red fruits bar, the weight of thirty pairs of eyes heavy on her shoulders.

"Look who decided to appear," Harriet said, taking a seat in front of her, blocking the perfect view Mal had of the whole dining room.

"I could say the same for yourself," she replied, and right then, she had felt it, the pressure of being watched decreased a little. Harriet's kids, she decided, after tilting her head to take a look at the ―once again― boisterous room.

Soon enough, not only Harriet's crew had decided that she meant no threat, but everyone else had gone back to their own business as well, and though she didn't speak much with Hook's daughter, she found herself relaxing in her presence.

After that, she had made a point of eating with them, even if just to prove Ginny wrong.

The morning of their departure, breakfast was tense, the air heavy with an unspoken question. As she handed out trays of magically-heated noodles, her head pounding, Mal was perfectly aware of the amount of dirty looks thrown her way.

"Allow me to remind you," she said, interrupting a good number of small conversations, but not having to actually raise her voice to be heard like she had the previous days. "The ship is leaving today. I expect all of you, with your bags, today at the dock."

"Was this what you were doing all along?" Yzla raised her voice. "Lulling us until you could order us around and make us follow you to Auradon?"

"For the record, I don't need Auradon's permission to order you around," Mal hissed. "I was doing it long before I even left the Isle in the first place, in case you've forgotten."

"We don't want to leave," Harriet shot back, standing up.

"Well, what a shame, because the decision is not up to you."

"What do they want us for?" Claudine seconded. "To work for them? Cheap manpower? That's not happening."

"They want you for the exact same thing they wanted me," she spat, forcing her eyes clean of any trace of magic. "They want to take you out of here, that's it."

"What, are there enough sweet princes out there for us too, is that it?" CJ, Harriet's younger sister, crackled a laugh. "Do you think we're that idiotic?"

"Trust me, there are things more interesting than a prince," Mal rolled her eyes. "Running water, for example. Refrigerators, signal, soap," Mal listed, her breathing becoming more labored. "Though I wouldn't count on you to know any of this because you've never heard of something like that."

There was a moment of stillness, though Mal wouldn't have called it silence or peacefulness, as she could hear shushed conversations in the edge of the room.

"Listen up, you all know Freddie, Facilier's daughter. She has a wicked character and she fitted perfectly in this place, yet she hasn't come back and she has no plans or whatsoever of doing it. She left by her own feet," Mal spoke up again.

"She did so because she's always been an idiot," someone said, and though Mal knew it had been a male, she had no way of being sure of who it had been, so she settled for sending a glare in a general direction.

"You fought against Jay, most of you did," she continued. "He isn't coming back any more than Freddie is."

"Evie hasn't come back either," a small voice said to Mal's right. Upon turning, the daughter of Maleficent recognized Dizzy, another one of Drizella's daughters.

"Evie wouldn't come back even if they paid her," she said, her eyes hardened. "I couldn't care less about whether or not you trust my word, but you know all about facts, so, by plain logic, there must be something in Auradon that makes all of them want to stay."

"I think that's called kidnapping," one of Gaston's sons said, laughing loudly. Mal was ready to tell him to fuck off.

"You came back," Ginny pointed out flatly, in low voice.

"Only because I had things to do here," she retaliated.

"Are you saying that if Auradon hadn't sent you back you would have never returned?" Ginny questioned.

"There is no way to assert that, especially not now that I'm already here," Mal shot back, the rise and fall of her chest the only movement of her impassible features. "But I seem to remember that a fair number of you wanted to leave this filthy place before I announced Auradon's willingness to receive you there. Why the sudden change of mind?"

At her question, asked to no one in particular, the murmurs shushed.

"This is all we know," Harriet finally said, her voice so low Mal was tempted to think her words had only been meant for her.

"Which is exactly my point," Mal conceded. "You do know that if you stay here your crew will never sail, don't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"What do you think I mean?" Mal rolled her eyes before raising her voice again. "This is not a petition and this is not a suggestion―it's an order. You will leave the Isle today. I suggest you start getting ready."

That was enough. With fisted hands, Harriet turned away from her. She knew what Mal meant.

And with that, she left the room, unhearing to the protests her words had provoked.

After that, the day passed in a blur. Mal emptied the kitchen, made sure that all of the windows were closed, she went through the house three more times until she was positive that she wasn't forgetting something important.

In the end, it turned out there was extra food and, unwilling to take it back to Auradon, Mal decided to divide it and give it away to the goblins. Useless, she could almost hear the voice of her mother say. Never treat these idiots like you would an ally. Never give them any reason to think that they are more than disposable goods.

Her mother's thoughts on the matter only made her want to do so more strongly.

Despotes was the one who would have to deliver the newly divided packages, as she had no time to lose now that her watch marked twenty to eleven. The goblins had been allowed to keep their dungeons. Mal supposed it was a good exchange, after all―they would have to protect Bargain Castle, as it was their only hideout left.

Mal was in the wharf ten minutes before the established time, her suitcases already inside the Pharaoh, with Despotes and Servus by her side. This was it, she told herself. This was it.

When her watch marked eleven o'clock the only one that arrived was Yen Sid, whom Mal had convinced to come with them. There would be no need for him to remain in the Isle now that there were no kids to teach to. He was only holding a small backpack. 'Not much that I want to keep from this place,' he shrugged off when Mal questioned him.

It was nearly fifteen minutes later that Anastasia arrived, her waxy countenance stoic as she was escorted by her son, her left arm entwined with his right, while she held Dulcie, the youngest daughter of Drizella, with her right hip. Behind them, more accurately, dancing weirdly around them, came Dizzy. Anastasia's black eyes were void of anything that she might have sported a few days in the past when she had appeared in Mal's office.

It took Mal a moment to realize that, trailing behind them, came a third child, another one of Drizella's kids. Darling, she thought she was called, something like that. No, it was Daryn, she was sure. And from the look in her face, she had been forced to leave the sweet comforts of the Isle to board a ship to the unknown.

"Is this why you said Evie wasn't coming back?" Dizzy questioned as soon as she had caught up with Mal, distracting her. "Because you were taking us out?"

"In part," she nodded. "I'm sure you'll like it were we're going. Say goodbye to your aunt."

Through their short dialogue, Mal felt Anastasia's strong glare on her, but decided to ignore her. It was far too early to begin an argument.

"I was under the impression that Drizella had more than three kids," Mal said instead.

"They will come," the woman echoed, and only then did Mal notice a dark bruise on her left cheekbone.

"Well, alright," Mal shrugged, fumbling with her folder. "Until then I am supposed to hand out these badges, just to be a little in control."

The identifications were a terrible idea, Mal sighed. She had argued so more than five times, but the Fairy Godmother had insisted. 'It's normal,' she'd said. 'This is just so we can recognize them more easily once they're here.'

Of course, Fayanna had no idea that, in the Isle, when you wanted to be 'recognized' you made a name for yourself. You made it so that the mere thought of you made your adversary watch over their shoulder and shiver. No one ever wore name tags around their neck, especially not ones with their forenames, age and picture.

"I have one myself, everyone will be wearing one," Mal reassured under Anastasia's critic eyes as she opened her jacket to reveal her own identification badge.

"I hate you," Daryn muttered, sending a piercing glare in her aunt's direction. As an answer, Anastasia merely closed her eyes and sighed.

"Daryn, don't talk like that," Anthony hissed.

"It's true," the girl said, stomping her right foot on the ground. "I hate her and all of you."

"Give us the identifications," Anastasia instructed then in a weak attempt to change the topic.

Silently, Mal complied, deciding that she could deal with a nine-year-old's rejection. It didn't help that the already somber atmosphere was now accompanied by Dizzy's forlorn expression and Anastasia's resignation.

Instead of continuing her thrilling conversation with the Tremaine family, Mal was soon pulled away when Ginny arrived to the dock, a single handbag with her.

"It is true, then," she said.

"I may be a lot of things, Ginny, but I am not a liar. I thought you knew that," Mal shrugged, handing her identification. Thankfully, the daughter of Gothel didn't protest.

"You did tell your mother you would get that wand for her," Ginny offered, unconvinced.

"I do believe I had no other option than telling her what she wanted to hear," Mal offered dully.

It was probably good the anchorage was still empty, Mal reflected on later. That way she had just enough time to prove herself all over again before each of the islanders boarded the ship. It would also make this whole ordeal all the more tedious.

"Get your things ready, we'll leave soon enough," she ordered.

"I'll be back there's something... something I'm missing."

"You do you. This thing sets sail at twelve," Mal replied flatly. In true, at twelve she would send for the ones who were not in the ship already, so there was a good chance they would not leave before one in the afternoon. Good thing she wasn't overly-concerned with schedules.

People started to arrive at something like eleven forty, and from that moment on, everything was madness. Behind her, Mal could hear the goblins ―of which there were now five or six― loading the ship with suitcases and directing the children to the deck, exactly like Mal had instructed.

It was almost twelve o'clock when Harriet finally arrived. Alone.

"If something happens to them, if something so much as goes wrong―"

"There'll be hell to pay, I'm aware," Mal cut her, handing Harriet not only her own identification, but also the ones for the kids she knew were part of her crew. "Keep in mind that if I screw up you won't be the only one wanting my head. Trust me, I'm working so that nothing goes wrong."

"Good," Harriet nodded, turning away from Mal to whistle. In no time, the children of Hook's old crew, along with several others were perfectly lined up in front of Harriet.

It was just past twelve when Ginny returned, her left hand tightly wrapped around Claudine's wrist. The movement of Ginny's other hand was hard to follow, her fingers becoming fists before pointing at something and fisting again as the girls whispered furiously between each other.

Deciding that was not her problem, Mal turned her attention on the things she could actually fix. Fortunately, that day it seemed there was enough work around her to busy herself with.

Morgana arrived not long after Claudine and Ginny, with Melvin and Mayra holding tightly to her hands, each with a small suitcase. Amused, Mal realized that Mayra was clutching a stuffed octopus to her chest.

"Mom said we're leaving with you!" Mayra announced, letting go of Morgana's hand to cling to Mal's arm, forcing the daughter of Maleficent to focus on her. As soon as Mal turned to her, Mayra stepped back, smiling up at her.

"That's true," Mal shrugged. "I hope you like where we're going."

"Mom said we should obey you now," Melvin seconded, gripping with more strength to his mother as he gave Mal a dirty look.

"I'd say that's up to you," Mal offered, fixing her eyes on Morgana's emaciated features instead of on her boy. "You don't have to obey me, but if you do you will be safer and your mother won't be as worried, so I suppose it's more about if you dislike me more than you care about your mother."

Eyes still piercing, Melvin clutched his mother's hand with more closely. He didn't say anything, at least, but he didn't have to. Mal didn't need him to voice his despise when he was staring at her as if she ate puppies for breakfast.

Probably without knowing, Mayra chose that exact moment to ask something to Mal, breaking down the tension.

"What was that, Mayra?" Mal asked, turning back to the girl.

"That big pole, what's its name? Does it have a name or do you just call it big stick?" she repeated, pointing back to the mast of the ship, same that Mal had honestly never cared enough about to wonder whether or not if it had a name. Before Mal could come up with an alternative name to digress Mayra's attention or confess her ignorance, Harriet answered.

"We called the big one the main mast, but there's also the foremast and the mizzen, you see?" she explained, gesturing for Melvin to near her so she could point them out for him as well. Albeit reluctantly, Melvin approached her.

"And that part, with the pretty lady, what do you call it? Does the lady have a name?" Mayra attacked again.

"That is the figurehead, but as for the lady... Mal, did you call your mermaid something?"

"Alhambra," Mal let out automatically, before she refrained a sigh at her own stupidity.

"Interesting name," Harriet snickered, turning back to the children.

"Can I... can I speak with you?" Mal heard Morgana say, barely a feeble whisper.

"I suppose so," Mal shrugged her shoulders.

"Alone," she requested, tilting her head the tiniest bit to point at the spot where Harriet was squatting with her children. As all answer, Mal nodded heavily.

"Melvin, Mayra, say goodbye to your mother, we're leaving soon," the daughter of Maleficent ordered.

"Mal, mom said we're not coming back," Mayra let out, momentarily distracted from the helm of the vessel.

"Your mom's right," Mal conceded. "That's why you must say goodbye to her."

"But... but she will come to visit, right? To Auradon?"

"Mayra," Morgana murmured, her voice too pained to be considered a hiss. "We've talked about this."

"But you said we should ask if we had any questions!" the girl protested. "I want to know if you will come to see us!"

For a moment, Mal caught her hands gripping her folder tightly, the breath frozen in her throat. Of all the comments she'd planned, of all the burning despise that weighted down her tongue, there was not a single word that she had considered to say in the odd case that one of the kids genuinely wanted to remain in contact with his parents.

"We'll... we'll see about that," she replied, the lie throbbing on her tongue like poison. "But I'm sure your mother would very much like that, wouldn't you, Morgana?"

"Certainly," Ursula's sister let out, short from a whisper.

"Harriet," Mal called after a short silence. "Why don't you show them the inside of the ship?"

There was an undeniable stillness around them as Morgana leaned down to kiss her children for the last time, an icy stiffness in Harriet's movements. And there was, as well, a questionable guilt in Mal's chest when she saw Morgana's haunted expression.

This would soon be over, Mal forced herself to think, unable to pinpoint why she suddenly felt remorseful when she was doing a favor to those kids.

A few days in the past Mal had found herself walking through the boisterous dining room, mainly in an attempt to make sure the kids were behaving and no one would be injured. Coincidently, she had found a piece of chocolate in her right pocket, part of a complete bag of treats that Carlos had somehow sneaked into her suitcase.

Mayra had called her then, asking something about the name of a fruit she had not known until then. It had been a strawberry.

Perhaps it was the stupid nostalgia that kept sending her memories back to Auradon, perhaps it was Ben's voice echoing in her head. Whichever happened, Mal found herself pulling two more chocolate pieces from her pocket and offering them to the kids.

Later that day Mayra had asked her to give her one more chocolate before leaving Bargain Castle. 'For her mother', she'd said. Mal had complied, thinking that the girl only wanted to have another candy, which Mal couldn't blame her for. Big was her surprise, however, when, as soon as she saw Morgana, Mayra ran over to her and, like she had promised, handed over the brightly wrapped sweet.

"Morgana," Harriet said then, snapping Mal out of her thoughts. "You once helped my family. Do not think we have forgotten. We intend to repay our debt."

Morgana nodded stiffly, her grayish hands wrapping around herself. And just like that, they were gone, Harriet Hook putting her vast knowledge about ships to a good use now that she had finally someone to share it with.

"They will be looked after," Mal offered to the awkward silence, not sure of what had moved her to do so.

"I hope so. Either way it will be better than being here, right?" Morgana let out in a small voice. "Listen, Mal, I... I wanted to thank you. For all of this. For returning."

"I haven't done anything. I am simply an envoy of Auradon."

"I don't believe that. Auradon hasn't raised a finger to help us in twenty years," the woman denied. "It would be very odd to think that they suddenly decided to add these modifications, unless there was someone willing to carry them out."

"I am merely carrying out with my duty," Mal shrugged once more, her eyes unwilling to meet Morgana's.

"Is it selfish, Mal, if I wish for them to forget this place, but not to forget me?"

"Pardon me?"

"It's just a question, you can answer whatever you want," Morgana let out in a thin voice.

"Why would you even care?" Mal nearly laughed.

"You know, we're not all as bad as Auradon makes us look," Ursula's sister offered. "You do not spend twenty years trapped in a place like this and remain the same. No, you must change―for worse or for better."

"That is extremely hard to believe, Morgana, I hope you are aware of that."

"You mother may be different, but I assure you that some of the inhabitants of this place have come to genuinely care about their children," Morgana explained slowly, heavy intakes of breath marking her rhythm. "I never spoke much to your mother, she thought I was too weak, too insignificant. I don't blame her. She preferred my sister, like everyone else."

"She preferred herself in the mirror. That's the only thing she ever liked," Mal snorted.

"Perhaps," the woman conceded. "I... I can show you how to tell them apart, the ones who care from the ones who don't. This is all I can give."

"I sincerely don't think any―"

"You're taking them out of here," Morgana said. "And I already owe you more than I can pay back. This is all I can give you."

"You owe me nothing because I only came here to carry on with my duty," Mal tried to stop her, before Morgana counterattacked.

"Then take my words to Auradon, to someone who can put them to a good use," the woman offered with something akin to a smile in her thin lips. "The ones who want you to get their children out, those are the ones who love them. And the ones who want to keep them here, regardless of the... of the obvious lacks of this place... those are monsters."

"Why would you tell me this?"

"Because you think no one here cares for their kids, but I do," Morgana answered without missing a beat. "I want to know what comes of them, now that I... now that I won't be able to see them anymore."

"Why would I―?"

"Take care of my kids," she cut her. "They're good children. That's all I'm asking from you."

"I'll treat them like I would anyone else aboard that ship," Mal replied sternly. For a brief moment, neither of them dared to add anything, much less to move. Finally, after a few seconds, Morgana gave a stiff nod, her lips firmly pursed.

"That's more than enough," the woman said at last, before she turned on her heels and disappeared into the crowd.

After Morgana left, Mal took a moment to steady her breathing, her head pounding like it had ever since the new barrier ordeal. She wanted to think Morgana had lost her mind. The woman had never been very stable, from what Mal had heard, and she could only guess what twenty years in the Isle had done to her reasoning abilities.

Yet, try as she might, whenever she attempted to brush away Morgana's emaciated countenance of her mind she was instantly brought back to the feeling of Anastasia's icy fingers clutching at her wrist.

"Are you supposed to be staring at nothing in particular or...?"

"You see, after having waited for you to appear for almost an hour, I grew tired, you know?" Mal quickly reacted, turning back to face Doretta, the second of Dizzy's sisters.

"You've handled sixteen years here. I'm sure that a few more minutes won't do much of a difference," she smirked, her eyebrows raised unamused-ly.

Before Mal could answer, she caught a glimpse of blue in the corner of her eye. Great. Wonderful moment for Hades to reappear.

"Get on the ship and shut up," the daughter of Maleficent growled instead, which only enlarged Doretta's cat-like sneer.

According to her list, there were at least fifteen more kids missing. And now she had to deal with Hades. They hadn't even left the Isle yet, and Mal was ready to growl out in frustration.

For a moment, Mal thought Doretta would argue with her, but the daughter of Drizella merely studied her for a second, shoulders hunched, as was easy to see given the sleeveless crop top she was wearing. At last, Doretta let out something similar to a sigh and fidgeted with the handles of her bag.

"I'll get on the ship, but I don't promise anything about shutting up," she offered cheekily, winking charmingly eye at Mal.

"Then get going," Mal grumbled, only half-listening to Doretta.

As soon as the young girl was in the wooden staircase of the ship, Mal turned her full attention to Hades and Ginny, walking over to them with a clear goal―getting rid of Hades as soon as possible.

"You're not allowed to be here," she said, clenching her fists when she was within Hades' earshot.

"Is that so? Or do you just feel a strong dislike for me in particular?" the god questioned, almost pouting at her. "Though I find that extremely hard to believe because, Maleficent, we're good friends, aren't we?"

"You and I are acquaintances, at best," Mal grumbled.

"What a terrible character you have," Hades deadpanned. "Gin here is nicer, you could afford to learn from her."

"Yeah? The pot calling the kettle black," Mal scoffed. "Get out of here."

"Not so soon, sweet pie!" Hades laughed manically. "Remember I had put a seat on layaway?"

"And I told you you weren't going anywhere, remember that?"

"Oh, don't make this personal!" the god crackled. "I'm not talking about me."

Mal wanted to say that she did not believe her eyes. Had someone approached her to tell her that the following would happen, she would have huffed in annoyance. However, it was hard not to believe oneself when she not only saw what was happening, but also felt it.

With a wicked smile, Hades snapped his fingers. For an instant, time stopped, the tingling in Mal's skin confirming he was using magic, more magic than Mal had been able to wield since rearranging the barrier. She was so caught up in her relief at the sensation that Mal didn't notice the ground had started shaking until she heard Ginny's shriek. Behind them, the waves of the sea became restless.

"What are you doing?" Mal hissed, her eyes trained on Hades'.

"You see, sweet pie, it occurred to me that a little... display would ease your worries about my honesty," he laughed. "At least now you know I can perform magic here."

Mal knew she shouldn't have done it, not after the pain her magic ―or her lack of it, thereof― had been giving her. Something was true, regardless―Mal had never been someone to shy away from a challenge.

If Hades wanted to play with magic, Mal had magic of her own to seize with his.

With a deep in-take of breath, Mal summoned her own power, raising her right hand in front of her. She started with her fingers stretched out, until she slowly began to close her hand, a wave of raw puissance burning in her chest as she did so.

By the time her hand was completely fisted, Mal's breathing was ragged, her vision turning blurry at moments. The shaking of the ground had almost stilled. The small earthquake didn't seem to be causing Hades much of an inconvenience, Mal noted. Instead, his smirk only turned a tad more sinister.

"You never know when to stop, do you, Maleficent?" he crackled.

"Stop?" Mal panted. "We're just getting started here."

"Allow me, I think we're done," the god said, before proving Mal wrong once more as he incremented the power he was stamping into his movements.

Hades' magic was raw strength. Untamed and millenary, Mal could do little to nothing against it.

The change was immediate―as soon as the words had left the god's lips, the shaking of the floor under their feet was reassumed. The magic Mal had contained until then returned to full strength now that it was backed off.

For as long as she'd been in Auradon, Mal had been trying to get used to her own magic, to a limp that she hadn't know she possessed until mere months in the past. She had read about magic, she had heard Evie rant about magic, she had breathed and manipulated magic until the foreign strength in her hands was second nature.

Yet, when Hades' force hit her, there was no way she could have battled against it. Instead, Mal felt her own magic shifting in an instinctive reflection. She couldn't compete against Hades, and now that said statement was a fact, Mal's magic reacted turning into a shield around her, deciding to protect its host rather than continuing a fruitless attack.

Hades' magic was wild, so unlike the soft sparkles of the Fairy Godmother that it was hard to believe they were the same thing. Hades' magic was vigorous, unyielding, yet playful, instead of Maleficent's angry waves of power, tentacles of dark power that wanted to destroy. Yes, Maleficent had strategy, she had never been one to braise for a fight without being sure she'd win, but she didn't have much else.

Maleficent's magic was simple when compared to Hades'―she was predictable. The only thing Maleficent wanted was to rescind, to set ablaze everything around her until the very same people who had underestimated her were begging for an inexistent mercy. With Hades, Mal didn't know what to expect.

"Like I said, Maleficent, I think we're done here," the god spoke up again, before one final wave of magic hit the ground under their feet. Mal was so tired that she let him do, planting her feet firmly on the floor so that Hades' power wouldn't make her fall instead of attempting a counterattack. Behind her, Ginny did trip.

And through it all, Mal knew that Hades was holding back. He was being mischievous, letting reckless magic play around him. Mal supposed he was only having fun, after having bottled the remnants of his Olympian magic for so long.

There was an instant of buzzing noise in her ear after Hades' magic receded. Breathing heavily, Mal let down a shaking hand to rest by her side. It took a moment for her sight to clear.

"You could have saved yourself a lot of trouble if you had accepted your defeat from the beginning," Hades offered, running a blue hand through his ablaze hair. "Enough of this already. Maleficent, Gin, allow me to introduce you to my daughter, Haidee."

Mal, who was still trying to catch her breath, raised her gaze to meet Hades. Her left hand was pinching at the bridge of her nose, and perhaps that was why it took so long for her eyes to focus.

When she finally did, Mal almost wished she had remained ignorant―standing next to Hades, with her head bowed down stood a girl. She looked young, not older than fourteen, with light-violet skin and a thin tunic that, unlike Hades', was a shiny white. Absently, Mal thought that it didn't look like hand-down clothes. In fact, Hades' tunic looked fairly new as well.

Mal presumed the girl had long hair, or at least very thick locks, as she had tied it into a complicated bun, placing a single white flower in the middle of her hair-do.

"You weren't lying," she let out, her most expressive thought.

"Really, child, you're such a fan of making things more complicated!" Hades dramatically rolled his eyes. "A simple phone call to Sephie would have earned you all of this trouble."

"Dad, there was no need to break a crack in the ground just to bring me here," the girl argued, her voice sounding like wind whistling through the branches of a tree. "You could have saved yourself a lot of energy too if you had let me walk."

"But you needed a memorable entrance, darling, we've talked about this," Hades brushed off, turning back to Ginny and Mal.

"Am I to assume your wife is this Sephie person you're talking about?" Mal questioned, too tired to even wonder about the crevasse in the ground. This was the Isle, and a split in its shore wasn't her problem. "The goddess of death?"

"Persephone is also the goddess of spring, you know? It's hard to get rid of old habits," Hades explained lazily. "Worry not, you mortals rarely get the chance to see us in your miserable lives. I am sure you won't even meet Sephie."

"I'll keep that in mind," Mal shrugged. It wouldn't be worth it arguing against Hades, she decided at last, especially not after seeing how easily he had defeated her even in his weakened state.

"Good. Now, Maleficent," Hades continued. "I am trusting you with my daughter's safe arrival to her family."

"Family is not word you hear in this place," Ginny said, staring intently at Hades now that she was standing up again.

"Well, they say there's a first time for everything, don't they?" the god counterattacked. "Besides, you are going to a place where it's widely common, so I'd suggest you get used to it."

"I'll have to say he's actually right on this one," Mal sighed.

There was a moment of silence in which Hades merely smirked at them, his left eyebrow raised as if he were expecting something from them. Finally, Mal realized he was waiting for her to say something.

With another sigh, Mal hefted her options. She could refuse to take Haidee with her and risk Hades' wrath. She could comply and do what the god was asking from her, although she didn't feel very attracted to that possibility.

On the other hand, neither did she feel like disobeying her orders and straightforwardly ignoring that girl plainly because her father had been a little indiscreet. To be fair, Hades, unlike a good number of the other villains, had never been disrespectful to her. Sure, Hades was extra and a bit overwhelming, but, until then, he hadn't lied to her or approached her with ulterior intentions.

In the end, what made her decision was a sense of duty that she was still trying to get used to―it made no sense to preach Auradon wanted to improve the children's life conditions and then reject someone based on their parentage. It would be stupid for her to refuse Haidee a place in her ship because she had argued with her father and then expect Auradonians to be welcoming towards the children, all thought of their parents forgotten.

"Get on the ship, Haidee. If nothing else happens we should be on our way soon" she rolled her eyes gesturing to the anchorage.

"Thank you, sweet pie. I knew you'd be understanding," Hades laughed, his left hand firmly placed on his daughter's shoulder. "My wife will take care of her, worry not about finding her a surrogate family."

Worry not, Mal grumbled, turning down to her watch. Worry not.

In the end, it turned out that being on Hades' good side wasn't a misguided decision after all, as he resulted unexpectedly helpful when it came to directing Mal to the children that hadn't arrived to the dock on their own. He also seemed strangely eager to withhold Hans, former prince of the Southern Isles, when Mal forced him to hand over his young son, Henry. And a little magic was certainly useful when Mal forced Desiree and Shui to leave their houses.

Mal handed her last badge a little before two thirty. They were two hours late, but she couldn't have cared less―the fifty three kids who would be her responsibility until they reached Auradon were on her ship, bags in their hands, knowing where they were going.

This was it. No more beating around the bush, no more postponing or avoiding issues. Before long, all of them would be seeing the Fairy-Tale-Land with their own eyes.

This was it, Mal sighed. The hard part of her job was done.

She couldn't have been more wrong.

Okay, so... this is it for now! Big chapter coming soon! (Please note I said 'big' and not 'long' because this shit is already longer than I thought it'd be!) And... the next chapter will definitely be the last part of the introduction before we finally get to focus on the children's stories.

If you guys want to know what the goblins' names, please comment and I'll answer. Umm... also, if you're uncomfortable with me not adding the specific warnings at the beginning of the chapter, please, please let me know and I'll start doing it. Yesterday, after having read this thing for maybe four or five times I realized I hadn't mentioned Daryn even once and I had to add her. So what I'm trying to say is that I am a forgetful person and that if I don't add those notes it's not because I don't care about it, it's because my memory sucks.

In other note, I usually don't read fanfics with OC's, because I think that you're reading fanfiction because you still want to close these characters close to you and you don't want to let them go, but... this story is different. Most stories with a similar theme I've seen focus on the kids being confused about whether or not if they want to be good. Or they want to take over Auradon, that too. So I want to apologize for my own hypocrisy, because a good number of the characters in this story will be OC's. But, to be fair, I also tried to keep all of the kids who were still at the Isle.

Also, I know I said I wouldn't take into account the characters or the situations that came up in the second and third book or in the second movie, but again, I just fell right into my trap. In my original plan, Drizella had no kids, but after watching the second movie I fell in love with Dizzy. She's such a sweet kid and she looks so excited and joyful despite the Isle that I just couldn't keep my heart to myself and I decided to adopt her into this madness. Parallel to this, I also read thatoneshippyblog's headcanons for the second movie and I realized that in the first book it was stablished that Anthony had "several cousins". So... as you know, the idea of the barrier impeding people within it from dying is not mine, but thatoneshippyblog's, so I added some of her headcanons to this story, for example, the several cousins and Dizzy's full name, Desideria.

So, this is why I kept Dizzy but Uma, Gil and Harry won't appear, and this is also why I gave Hades a daughter instead of keeping the son that appeared in the second book. I've been planning this story for over two and a half years and I wanted to keep Hades because I love him, but the "Return to the Isle of the Lost" still hadn't come out, so... yeah, I'll stand by my word that I'll only take into account the first book and the first film, with the sole exception of Dizzy.

On the other hand, and as my beautiful beta pointed out, we know so little from the canon characters that they're basically OC's too.

Without further ado, I'll add the list of kids and their ages. Oh, actually, I'd forgotten to mention that I changed some of the ages! This is mostly because it was fitting for the story, but also because it bugs me to have a sixteen-year-old to become the ruler of such a humongous kingdom. I know that, historically, there have been four-year-olds as sovereigns, but we all know they didn't really do the ruling part. Besides, it seems so stupid to me that Belle and Beast are both young, healthy and capable but they still gave up the kingdom and handed it over to their teenager son. Auradon is this bizarre place that is both modern and ancient, so, yeah, in the sixteen century no one would have batted and eyelash at such a young king, but we would certainly do so now.

So, to summarize, I changed the ages because it was convenient for me and for the story. You will learn why at some point. Now, the list!

Chad, the Gastons-19 Ben, Shun (son of Shan Yu), Yzla (daughter of Yzma)-18 Jay, Mal, Claudine (daughter of Claude Frollo), Shui (daughter of Shan Yu), Desiree (daughter of Drizella)-17 Evie, Ginny, Harriet (daughter of Captain Hook)-16 Carlos, Hilda (daughter of Helga), Doretta (daughter of Drizella)-15 Freddie, CJ (daughter of Captain Hook)-14 Jamie (son of Captain Hook), Dizzy (daughter of Drizella)-12 Melvin (son of Morgana), Dizzy-10 Dulcie (daughter of Drizella)-9 Henry (son of Hans)-7 Mayra (daughter of Morgana)-6 Sammy Smee (son of... Smee)-5 Daryn (daughter of Drizella)-3

Umm.. these are all the kids I can think of for the moment. Tell me if you want me to add the hero kids as well.

Also, apart from writing Disney fanfiction, I've also done some beta-reading of it and... I want you all to know that geminalupus has this wonderful story called "Scars Revealed". If you have enjoyed reading my story, please be sure to go and check hers out, especially because she's currently working in a sequel of this fic and I'm so excited!

This is it for now... read you soon!

#The Ones Who Wander #Descendants #Descendants 2015 #Disney Descendants #fanfiction #Forgotten characters #Isle of the Lost #Mal #Evie #Ginny Gothel #Disney

[lisakori]

The Wandering Ear is now from 4-5 MST!

Doing a little switcheroo at the station. The Wandering Ear is now from 4-5 MST. I’m sharing the time slot with DJ Pancake Breeze who will DJ on days I can’t make it! 

Here are playlists from the last couple of weeks I never got around to posting. 

June 12 Swans - Trust Me Sinéad O'Connor - Mandinka Strawberry Switchblade - Jolene Yoko Ono - What A Bastard The World Is Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds - The Witness Song Nina Hagen - Mean Old World Screamin' Jay Hawkins - Whistling Past The Graveyard Joe Henderson, Alice Coltrane - Water Sunn 0))) - It Took The Night To Believe The Velvet Underground - Venus In Furs The Fall - Totally Wired Xiu Xiu - Scisssssssors The Raincoats - No One's Little Girl

June 5 Goblin - Opening to the Sighs Spirit Girls - Comforting the Bears Siouxsie and the Banshees - Hong Kong Garden Circuit Des Yeux - Call Sign E8 The Fugs - Nothing Robbie Basho - The Falconer's Arm Nico - The Falconer Ulan Bator - La Joueuse De Tambour Enstürzende Neubaten - Der Tod Ist Ein Dandy Jarboe, Larry Seven - Volcano Holly Herndon - SWIM Teho Teardo, Blixa Bargeld - Still Smiling Rebecca Phillips - Burnt Peach (Object Blue Remix)

May 29 2019 Doc & Merle Watson - Summertime Bill Callahan - Jim Cain Chuck Berry - Memphis, Tennessee Champion Jack Dupree - Drinkin' Wine Spodie-Odie Mickey Newbury - T. Total Tommy David Crosby - Laughing The Deslondes - Fought The Blues And Won Odetta - Timber Michael Hurley - I Stole The Right To Live Rev. Gary Davis - Death Don't Have No Mercy Davie Bowie - Where Are We Now? Circuit Des Yeux - Black Fly Robby Basho - Blue Crystal Fire Buffy Sainte-Marie - Goodnight

May 22 - Substitute DJ for The End Is The Beginning Johnny Cash - Desperado Rita Coolidge, Keb' Mo' - Walking On Water Lucinda Williams - Something About What Happens When We Talk Eliza Gilkyson - Borderline Blaze Foley, Ben Dickey - Should Have Been Home With You Hurray For The Riff Raff - Ode To John And Yoko James McMurtry - Dry River Bobbie Gentry - Lazy Willie Eric Bibb - Brazos River Blues Delbert McClinton & Self-Made-Men - Pulling The Strings Marc Broussard - Cry To Me Richie Havens - Here Comes The Sun Phosphorescent, Jenny Lewis - Sugaree Lucinda Williams - Car Wheels On A Gravel Road Billy Joe Shaver - Live Forever

May 22 2019 Patti Smith - So You Want To Be Nina Simone - Suzanne Rufus, Chaka Khan - Your Smile Kelsey Lu - Foreign Car New York Dolls - Trash Holly Herndon - Alienation Daevid Allen, Euterpe - Mystic Sister Lou Reed - Vicious Jean-Michel Jarre, Laurie Anderson - Rely On Me Peter Murphy - Seesaw Sway Psychic TV - Godstar Einstürzende Neubaten - Sehnsucht - Zitternd Oval - Legendary ANBB, alva noto, Blixa Bargeld - Ret Marut Handshake Gong - Master Builder The Electric Prunes - I Had Too Much To Dream (Last Night) Meredith Monk - Environs 1

May 15 2019 B.B. King, Tracy Chapman - The Thrill Is Gone Albert King - Born Under A Bad Sign Elmore James - The Sky Is Crying Buddy Guy - Damn Right, I've Got The Blues Stevie Ray Vaughan - Pride and Joy B.B. King - Three O'clock Blues Traveling Wilburys - Tweeter And The Monkey Man Shakura S'Aida - Rain Down Rain T-Bone Walker - T-Bone Blues Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers - Louisiana Rain Zora Young - Go Ahead and Take Him Otis Rush - Working Man

May 8 2019 Buffy Sainte-Marie - You're Gonna Need Somebody On Your Bond Scott Walker - Duchess Faust - Birds of Texas Grouper - Made of Metal S.Y.P.H. - Nachbar Marie Davidson - Lara (Daniel Avery Mix) John Maus - And The Rain Grouper - Vapor Trails Yves Tumor, James K - Licking An Orchid Ellicist - Hennepin Scott Walker - My Death Ana Roxanne - Nocture Unspecified Artist, Wolof Music of Senegal - Tara (Traditional Song)

[tomishaped]

522 Things I'm not allowed to do at Hogwarts

Numbers 391-488

391. Asking the Weasley twins, "So do you do everything together?" is ill advised.

392. Telling Lucius what he could do with his staff... is not advisable.

393. I will not ask the school to sponsor a break dancing crew.

394. Voldemort, after being defeated, did not get served.

395. Getting Colin Creevey drunk and steering him toward a sleeping Harry Potter is just a bad idea all around.

396. -Then using his camera to take incriminating photos is not nice.

397. Coming up behind Harry while he and Draco are glowering at each other and saying "Oh, go on and kiss him already!" is not funny.

398. -Even if Luna Lovegood does say, "Yes, I thought so too."

399. I am not a Balrog animagus.

400. The house never did fall on Professor Umbridge's sister, nor is she suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder as a result.

401. I may not try to find out if any of the owls are David Bowie in animagus form.

402. I will not ask people what their daemons are.

403. I will not offer Professor McGonagall lasagne.

404. I will not tell the Ravenclaws that they're basically useless because Hogwart's smartest student is in another house.

405. I will not call Pizza Hut and ask them to deliver to the common room.

406. I will not poison first years. No matter how much I think they need it.

407. It is not appropriate trade first years between houses.

408. I will not tempt Ravenclaws with apples. I will also not say that the Slytherins have tempted other students with apples.

409. Frankenstein is not required reading for DADA classes.

410. -Neither is Dracula.

411. I will not try to explain the laws of physics, not even for the sake of argument.

412. If I even look like I might sing "I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves" I will be Obliviated.

413. Using the 'Petrificus Totalus' curse on Draco Malfoy and dumping him in the Gryffindor common room as a Christmas present to the House means you should watch your back until June.

414. -Especially if the Weasley twins were staying over break.

415. -If Lee Jordan was there too, you're going to need a bodyguard.

416. I will not claim to be able to see the Thestrals if I cannot.

417. -I will not tell first years that "any true wizard or witch" can see Thestrals, and that if they can't they "obviously aren't cut out for this school".

418. I am not to tell Muggleborn first-years that Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans taste better when one eats a whole handful simultaneously.

419. I will not take out a life insurance policy on any Hogwarts Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

420.I will not attempt to repel Dementors by covering myself in chocolate body paint.

421. I will not sneak up behind Draco and Harry while they are in their Staring Snarky Yelling Matches and yell, "SLASH SLASH SLASH! LET'S SEE SOME SLASH!"

422. I will not give Hagrid Pokmon cards and convince him that they are real animals

423. -Likewise, I will not tell First Year Muggle-borns that Pokmon battles are a part of the Care of Magical Creatures curriculum

424. I am not qualified to perform exorcisms on Hogwarts ghosts, and attempting to do so will merely offend them.

425. Draco Malfoy is not the secret identity of "Ferret Boy".

426. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley are not the magical equivalent of "Batman and Robin".

427. Telling Draco Malfoy to "make like a ferret and bounce" is always a bad idea.

428. The Crucible is not summer reading for History of Magic, and I should not tell First Years that it is.

429. "You might be a Pureblood if..." jokes will get me in trouble, especially in front of Slytherins.

430. I will not play the Darth Vader theme for Professor Snape.

431. - However, when Lucius Malfoy visits, I may play it.

432. The bludger is not a bowling ball, and Professor Snape is not a bowling pin. I will not attempt to prove otherwise.

433. If I insist on carrying out my plans of producing "Riddle-de-dee: The Voldemort Musical", I will do so under a nom-de-plume.

434. - I will not attempt to recruit the title character to play himself. Even if he looks good in tap shoes.

435. The Slytherin prefect is named Draco Malfoy, not "Rocky Horror.

436. -Transfiguring Draco Malfoy's uniform into a gold thong is inappropriate.

437. -Especially if he's wearing it.

438. Crabbe and Goyle should not be referred to as "Bulk and Skull". "Dumb and Dumber" is equally inappropriate.

439. -I should not refer to Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle collectively as "Team Rocket" either.

440. Comparing Draco Malfoy to Alex Krycek, Lindsay McDonald, Lex Luthor or any similar character is not an appropriate subject for a Muggle Studies essay.

441. I will not attempt to determine whether Malfoy is a natural blond.

442. Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle's first names are, respectively, Draco, Vincent and Gregory, not Larry, Darryl and Darryl.

443. The Slytherin Quidditch team should not be referred to as "Draco Malfoy and a moderate amount of cross-dressing".

444. -Even if that is an accurate description.

445. The song "Ding Dong, The Witch is Dead" is never, ever appropriate.

446. "Springtime for Voldemort" is not an acceptable suggestion for the class play.

447. I am not allowed to spank others.

448. -Even if Malfoy liked it.

449. No matter how vast the uses and entertaining the results, I will not indulge in fun with duct tape.

450. -This goes double for superglue.

451. I am not to dance naked in the great hall.

452. -Or on the grounds.

453. -Generally, dancing naked is wrong.

454. Despite the appearances of the employees and the vaults, Gringotts is not the entrance to the Labyrinth.

455. -While in the company of goblins, I must not demand that I be taken to Jareth.

456. -Nor shall I tell them "You remind me of the babe.

457. Draco Malfoy no longer requires a nanny, nor does he need tucking in and "a bit of a cuddle" at bedtime.

458. - Not even if he insists that he does. And that his father has hired me to provide said service.

459. I am not to call Hogwarts "the most covert anti-Death Eater organization on the planet.

460. The Easter Bunny is not Jesus' Animagus form.

461. I am not allowed to ask Pureblood students things like, "If your parents got divorced, would they still be brother and sister?"

462. I am not allowed to discuss my theory that Voldemort is actually the second cousin of Sauron.

463. I will not tell first years that they should build a tree house in the Whomping Willow.

464. I will not write forged letters home to the parents of Muggleborn first years detailing the Satanic rituals they are learning.

465. I will not ask Dobby why he doesn't look more like Orlando Bloom.

466. - Nor will I ask him if he works for Santa Claus in the off-season.

467. I will not invite Professor Snape to a midnight showing of "The Rocky Horror Picture Show".

468. -The same goes double for Voldemort.

469. -Likewise, I will no longer be permitted to refer to Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange as Riff Raff and Magenta.

470. -Especially to their faces.

471. I will stop pasting happy face stickers on Lupin's office door.

472. Draco Malfoy does not appreciate being called 'Ferret Boy'

473. -Or 'The Blond Boy Wonder'

474. Hagrid's skin is not green and I should stop calling him 'The Jolly Green Giant.'

475. Sending love notes to Professor Snape and signing them 'With Love, Draco Malfoy' is not appropriate.

476. -Neither is signing them with: 'I had a great time last night, Argus Filch.'.

477. Breaking into song during Potions class is not acceptable.

478. -Especially if the song is 'I feel pretty, oh so pretty'.

479. Or 'I'm too sexy'.

480. I am not a 'ninja sent here by Lord Voldemort to destroy Harry Potter' and should stop shouting this at meal times.

481. Lucius Malfoy's cane is not a 'pimp cane'.

482. I must never sneak up behind Draco Malfoy and coo "How's my Blondie-Bear?"

483. Teaching first years to chorus in unison "The amazing bouncing ferret" whenever they hear the name Draco Malfoy is just wrong, funny, but wrong.

484. It's not tasteful to approach Cho wearing a shirt that says All the good-looking ones die young with a picture of Cedric Diggory on it.

485. I am not to tell Draco that I know all about his affair with Hermione Granger.

486. -Especially if it's not true.

487. -I also cannot sell the story to Rita Skeeter.

488. -Or owl Lucius, Narcissa, or Bellatrix with the imaginary details

#harry potter #522 things im not allowed to do at hogwarts #hogwarts #list #funny #slytherin #gryffindor #hufflepuff #ravenclaw #hermione granger #ron weasley #draco malfoy #crabbe #goyle #snape #dumbledore #mcgongall #minerva mcgonagall #hagrid