For the few fanfic readers that follow me on here, I currently have 7000 words of a fic set in 1990's Canada centered around Armand post QoTD cannon Devils Minion.
He makes friends with a prostitute on Vancouver's downtown eastside and instead of eating her, decides to help her. (Hm wonder why? Definitely not because she reminds him of Daniel)
Preview under the cut!
The girl looks pale under the lights of the restaurant, her veins blue-green spider webs under her sallow skin. Though he could see her just fine in the shadowed places between street lights, it is even more clear now that she is of middle-eastern descent. The slope of her nose mirrors his own, and her eyes are startlingly similar to Arun's in color. Her hair is long and appears healthier than the rest of her mortal body underneath the layer of hairspray she has trapped it in.
He observes her hands when she takes a compact out, wiping her lipstick off with a napkin from the dispenser. She wrinkles her nose at the sensation, but carries on. Despite the rest of her being sculpted to exude sensuality and beauty, her nails are short and brittle judging by their ragged edges. Barely noticeable to a human, but speaking volumes about her nutrition to himself.
"Drink. I can tell you're dehydrated."
She snaps the compact shut and gives him a long look before downing her glass of water in one go. He sprinkles a bit of salt in his own glass and pushes it towards her. "Pace yourself."
"I'm not pacing anything until you tell me why you just salted my water."
"Electrolytes. It will hydrate you more efficiently."
"If you say so." She says, casting a dubious look at the glass before staring back at him, the wheels turning so transparently in her mind that he would not need to read her to know what she was thinking.
"What do you do for work, outside of this?" He interrupts her whirlwind of speculation, lest her curiousity get the better of her.
"I'm a hostess at one of those fancy places uptown. The pays shit but it lets me take the train back here every night."
Upon closer inspection, he can see the dark circles covered expertly by her foundation. "When do you sleep?" He asks curiously.
"Well the restaurant doesn't open 'till ten so I'm usually out 'till four, sleep 'till eight, get ready, go to work, come back here at ten, and walk 'till four again."
Four hours of rest is much too little for a mortal as busy as her. "How old are you?"
She snorts. "You want my real age or my pretend one?"
"Real."
"Twenty three."
"You should be sleeping more."
She laughs dryly. "I agree, but I gotta work. I don't have a roof over my head as is."
***
There will be an epilogue where she reunites with Armand in 2022, and meets fledgling Daniel as a fifty something year old woman who is still just as iconic.
The last couple chapters are a bit of a slog for me, but the end product should be about 10 000 words, rated explicit both for subject matter and a sex scene between her and Armand near the end (their relationship doesn't start or end sexual, or even romantic, its more something they both do as a reclamation of their bodies. It's very sweet and also HOT).
This fic ended up kind of being a love letter to Armand, 90's fast food prices, and to the downtown eastside all in one. I'm 20 so there's a lot I had to google since I didn't grow up in the 90's but I'm very proud of it regardless.
Writing a little excerpt of Armand in the 90's post devil's minion (show cannon so Daniel doesn't remember him) befriending a young prostitute in the downtown eastside of Vancouver.
Teaser after the cut.
"So, pretty boy?"
"No, not your body."
A look of genuine confusion crosses her face for a split second. "Not my body? I don't sell dope, you'll have to find someone else for that."
"You misunderstand. I want to buy your company."
"You want to buy my company to what, hang out?"
"Essentially."
She raises an eyebrow at him. "How much are you paying me?"
He retrieves five, crisp one hundred dollar bills from his wallet and hands it to her, assessing the array of emotions passing across her face in quick concession. So expressive, this girl.
"Holy shit! Put that away!" She hisses, batting at his hand as if to vanish the bills by magic.
He holds them out in front of him, patiently.
She takes them with an aggravated sigh, stuffing them into her bra with little ceremony. "Alright, where are we going?"
"When was the last time you ate?"
Ziba is a 23 year old prostitute walking the streets of downtown Vancouver, Armand is lonely and sees echoes of his former self in her. They form an unlikely friendship when Armand pays her for her company and closes off his mind, getting to know her properly.
