sullivanspade

[sullivanspade]

👑 — What species have you dated?

Sullivan sputtered into his hot cocoa, taken off guard by the sudden unexpected question mid-sip. He cleared his throat as the mug was carefully lowered back down to the table with both hands. Trying to maintain some sort of poise, the Ritualist cast a semi-resentful glance at the inquisitor. He felt like she knew perfectly well the answer to this question but, upon further, albeit momentary reflection, he decided it was as fair for him to assume that as it would be for him to assume the same about her. Truth be told, they’d never discussed such things; openly or otherwise. He was a very private person on most fronts but Max knew him more intimately than most. And, until now, he hadn’t been able to contribute anything from his own experience on this sort of topic. 

By the time he was easing out of that minuscule glare, the corners of his mouth seemed to twitch, threatening to turn upwards instead of staying pressed into a firm line; where he wanted them. He couldn’t help feeling a little happy that Max had bothered to ask. That she realized there was something new aspect to his life and wanted to know more. After a telling sigh, he answered. “I don’t have much preference...or experience when it comes to other species, but so far, Elementalists seem to be nice...quite nice,” he mumbled deeply.

[sullivanspade]

December meant a lot of things but for Sullivan, the main thing that happened in December was the Spade’s Yearly Review. Like clockwork, on December 1st, Sullivan began to have trouble sleeping. No amount of soothing nighttime tea, boozy warm drinks or considerable effort from Yongsun to tire him out, aided the Spade in falling asleep easily nor kept him from tossing and turning throughout the night.

The culmination of the year, plus those last three uncomfortable weeks arrived at Sullivan Noh’s outstretched hands in the form of a familiar official document. He grunted at the deliveryman before unceremoniously slamming the door in his face. The Spade about-faced and sank down to the floor immediately, leaning against the frame before unsealing the form.

Every year, his eyes instantaneously went to the same spot as soon as the paper was in his hands. Second section; first box in the left column. And as was the usual result, he read the culmination of a year’s worth of effort and...slumped, exhaling a sigh so heavy with disappointment that it seemed to echo throughout and rattle the house.

Meets all expectations, it is recommended he remains at his current rank.

Disappointment, regret, guilt...washed over him in waves. He had not done enough. He felt like he had accomplished so much this year; so much more than other years and yet, there was still that unabashed six on his wrist. After a considerable amount of time dwelling on things he cannot change and obsessing over real and some imagined shortcomings that had undoubtedly prevented his advancement, he looked over the rest of the document.

The Ace’s recommendation caught his eye and caused his stomach to flip. Paired with his notable event from November, Sullivan’s sinking feeling continued to plummet. He had told Jihoon of his considerable progress in deciphering the tome, but for some reason he even now did not fully understand, had refrained from telling him the details of this breakthrough and most importantly, what he’d learned so far from reading the book.

The burden of this knowledge and the resulting guilt from keeping it to himself weighed on him increasingly each day. He felt that he owed Jihoon the information...because he had saved him. Sullivan had idolized him since that day and even lived with him, in his own private lodging for the last ten years until only recently. So why...why did he feel this lingering hesitation about revealing to him the secrets he’d uncovered in the tome?

The note from the Ace confirmed Sullivan’s fears. He’d read the words before, many times, in fact. The most concise, polite and impersonal message he could imagine. A message he wouldn’t be surprised to find written on every single Spade’s review, as if they were all interchangeable, none more important or special or valued, personally or otherwise, than the others. 

It gave him much needed pause to evaluate the situation, minus his own personal sentiments. He needed to remind himself of his station and remind himself he did.

You are just one card in a deck, Sullivan; a card that doesn’t even have a face.

[sullivanspade]

my life became brighter since run bts editors decided to add blush on yoongi’s cheeks

[sullivanspade]

Ignorance is Bliss

Sullivan thumbed through the aged tome once more, sharp eyes glazing over what had previously been integral illustrations, to favor words; snippets of enchantments, ingredients and directions, all of which he could now easily decipher.

“I can read...” he muttered again, half a smile lifting half his mouth as he recalled the now infamous statement. With the memory resurfacing in full, Sullivan didn’t fight the resulting sincere smile that soon graced his features. After voicing his half-asleep but fully sincere congratulations, it had taken Sunny hours to work up the nerve to ask Sullivan to elaborate on why exactly he’d been so excited about his ability to read earlier that morning. 

Yongsun knew he was an avid bibliophile, but it wasn’t until he had to sheepishly ask, that Sullivan realized how much vital information he’d omitted from his declaration in his excitement. The situation also solidified Sullivan’s undeniable and unwavering affection for the Diamond. Perhaps he’d been given a ‘gift’ by an intangible entity, but Kee Yongsun was the true blessing in his life.

With an affectionate glow about his features, Sullivan opened the grimoire cover and settled into his chair by the fireside. Instead of skipping around at random, attempting...struggling to piece bits of information together, he could now read the book and he planned to...cover to cover.

There he sat for hours upon hours, pouring over the brittle pages that had sprouted and grown out of a jar of dirt thrust upon him by a mysterious elderly woman earlier that year. At some point Yongsun brought him lunch, which Sullivan obediently ate with his eyes still glued to the pages. He read and read and learned. He learned many things; all of which he was grateful to understand, but honestly, there were things he had been happier before knowing.

By the time Yongsun returned from rehearsals much later that evening, Sullivan was hunkered over the kitchen table, head in his hands. Raven hair mussed from running his hands through it, practically wringing it countless times. There was no longer excitement and wonder on his features as there had been that morning. His expression was grave...burdened...tormented by the knowledge he had since attained. Yet despite that, he could not pull his eyes away.

Ignorance is bliss and there are several enormous revelations that Sullivan is no longer ignorant of.

You can now read the demonic tome gifted to you by the River Witch. As you make your way through it you find out new information about Demons; specifically: that they are beings comprised of Turin and that their contracts actually allow them to imbed some of their Turin within the contractee. Though this does not make contractees vessels (since the demonic consciousness is elsewhere) it does make them Turin batteries. You understand now that this is why when your demon uses his powers, you often feel weak or drained. You also learn this connection has the ability to kill you.

Near the middle of the tome you find a few diary entries dated over 2500 years ago. These entries speak of a coven of Turana Witches with the ability to wield both Turin and Mana. It is clear through the way she speaks of this accomplishment that it was something they did rather than powers they inherited that allowed them to wield the competing magiks.

The diary entry at the back of the grimoire makes one thing extraordinarily clear: The River Witch is responsible for the ranking curse plaguing the continent.

[sullivanspade]

kadeu​:

Yeon Nen; Meme

🧧 — Do you hand out tao hongbao? Receive tao hongbao?

🧨 — Describe a close-call you’ve had with another species this year.

🀄 — What is your favorite part of the holiday season? 

🔻 — What traditions do you find most odd this time of year?

🎁 — Is there anything you do yearly, without fail?

🍁 — What is your New Years Resolution? 

🥛 — What is your favorite beverage to drink in cold weather?

⚖️ — Who do you buy presents for? Who buys presents for you?

❤️ — Is there a species you tend to date?  and one you wouldn’t?

🕯️ — How do you feel about this ending year?

🥁 — What was your biggest accomplishment this year? Failure?

🔥 — Describe a mistake you made this last year.

👑 — What species have you dated?

💮 — How do you feel about the Yeon Nen decorations?

🪔 — Are there any traditions you want to start this year?

🏮 — Does your family have any holiday traditions? Your species?

🤍 — Do you want a snow white Yeon Nen?

👹 — Describe a fear you have about the upcoming year.

🥮 — What is your favorite meal to eat at this time of year?

[sullivanspade]

A Literal Nightmare

The final glorious note of the performance resonated through the packed auditorium and Sullivan, along with everyone else in the audience, launched from their seats into a standing ovation. Many had tears in their eyes from the emotional ending scene as the applause grew deafening, but Sullivan’s sentiment was much deeper than the casual theater-enthusiast. As if on cue, the gorgeous raven-haired man taking his much-deserved bows centerstage, straightened up and looked directly at him. Sullivan’s heart leapt, thankfully kept firmly in place by the considerable knot in his throat. And, being the dramatic that he is, Sunny then raised his hand to his lips, placing a kiss there before theatrically blowing it in his direction.

Heart on the verge of imploding and any and all inner thoughts reduced to keyboard smash literacy, Sullivan stopped clapping only because he needed to verify that his cheeks weren’t actually on fire. It certainly felt like they were. He couldn’t hide his beaming smile though or the adoration that made his dark eyes sparkle. He felt so special in that moment. Adored and cherished and...loved, as Sunny took a moment to appreciate him when they were literally in a room packed with a vast range of Kadeu’s ranked, who were all applauding in appreciation of Sunny.

A strange but familiar buzzing started and gradually began to rival the cacophonous applause echoing in the room. Sullivan’s euphoria began to wear off as the feeling of hundreds of eyes penetrated his happiness. Suddenly, he remembered it was not just he and Sunny in the room. He reluctantly tore his eyes away from Yongsun and instantly regretted it. He’d never seen or felt so many people looking at him. The room felt like it was beginning to spin and from the corner of his eye, Sullivan’s horror increased when he realized Sunny was gesturing for him to come down...and join him on stage.

Sullivan couldn’t even shake his head in protest before he felt himself LEVITATING out of Sunny’s box. He gasped in horror, flailing helplessly before remembering that hundreds of people were now staring at him if they weren’t already before. He went absolutely rigid, silently cursing Ara for taking it upon herself to include him in this involuntary game of ‘light as a feather, stiff as a board.’

Descending helplessly toward the stage and into Sunny’s beckoning arms, Sullivan did his best to hide behind him as soon as he was placed on his feet. He smiled widely and laughed, seeming to misinterpret Sullivan’s discomfort as his usual coyness and dislike of overwhelming attention. The stage was Sunny’s home. A place where he felt comfortable, but it was certainly not the same for Sullivan. There were so many people looking at him. Too many people. He felt exposed, almost violated now that he was trapped centerstage under the scrutinizing gaze of the audience.

Barred by Yongsun’s impossibly strong arms, Sullivan began to look around at the audience members, both incredibly curious as to who was watching him and afraid to see what they thought. He recognized certain faces immediately, his trepidation mounting as he analyzed their expressions and somehow missed glaringly obvious clues that this scenario was the working of his inner fears.

The first person he noticed was Ara in the wings, smiling beautifully and giving him two enthusiastic thumbs up with unmistakable ‘you’re doing amazing, sweetie’ energy. Gaze traveling toward the front of the crowd, he spied Prospero and more notably, Eva, who was repeatedly yanking on the poor man’s arm and shouting ‘What’s happening?! WHAT IS HAPPENING?!’ He realized belatedly that she was much younger than she should be. Eyes moving directly upwards, Sayge catching his attention.

She stood in her box, arms crossed over her chest and looked incredibly disinterested in the situation that was bordering on traumatic for Sullivan. She was unmoving except for her top hand, which was busily rolling a poker chip over and across her knuckles impressively. The lights on the stage brightened, making it increasingly harder to see, but there was no mistaking the figure beside her. Zuihuo Joui...the bloody Ace of Hearts...completely buck-ass nude, long luxurious black hair draped over his body with strategic Lady Godiva style.

Sullivan’s eyes narrowed as he continued to stare against the intensifying lights. Joui smirked impishly, clutching the journal he’d given him for his birthday as he furiously scribbled down onto paper whatever Sullivan might’ve gleaned from a more expressive expression. The deception left Sullivan distinctly annoyed but sensing from the Ace’s movement that a hair flip of scandalous proportion was underway, Sullivan rightfully averted his precious eyes.

Only to have them land in the box below, where Max was sitting on Bestram Beryl’s lap, his cheek bouncing repeatedly against her bosom as she enthusiastically clapped with her arm around his neck. At this point, the lights intensified to a blinding level. Sullivan let go of Sunny’s arm with one hand to try and block the light but it was no use. He was blind.

The light enveloped him completely, warming him from the inside out. The comfortable sensation starkly contrasted the confusing dream nightmare he’d escaped, so he tried not to question the timely rescue.

“Darling boy, you are ill-prepared for the dark times that await you.”

Sullivan can’t hear the sudden voice as much as he immediately understands the light’s intended message. The words and the light are warm, almost like this entity is smiling at him, but there is something else there too, underneath. Something jagged...wild...dangerous.

“I’ve seen your past. Though they were meddling where they had no right, it seems someone has tried to help you once already.”

Sullivan’s trepidation slowly begins to force its way into the sugar-coated scenario at the revelation that this being has ‘seen his past.’ At the mention of meddling and help he’d been given, Sullivan had an immediate influx of candidates as many, many people have offered him help, but there was only two who had aided him on a ‘magical’ level and only one had been unbidden.

“This is the last of the assistance you’ll get. Never say Shukra didn’t help you.”

Sullivan jolted awake, sitting upright in one fluid movement that pulled a mountain of blankets with him. Gradually he regained his bearings, realizing that despite waking up drenched in sweat and with a massive headache, he was in familiar surroundings. Cold morning light painted hazy squares on the floor of his study. The remnants of a fire smoldered in the hearth to his right, a sleeping Adonis at his left.

Relieved that he hadn’t woken him, Sullivan pulled off his saturated pajama top before returning to his rightful place in the crook of Sunny’s arm. He turned toward him this time, laying his cheek on Sunny’s bare chest, comforted by the warmth and the slow rise and fall of his breaths. The headache, nor the dream would leave him as he absently stared at the opposite wall. He spent much of his free time here, especially in the evenings. The room itself was a canvas for Sullivan’s studies. The walls were painted a deep charcoal gray and covered, at most times from floor to ceiling, with Sullivan’s sketches and scribbles. (I shouldn’t say that. Sullivan has never scribbled a day in his life.)

His eyes focus on one particular section of writing, one that he’d painstakingly transcribed from the grimoire the River Witch had given him. One that he was having a particularly difficult time deciphering to the point that he could translate it. One that now looked unequivocally clear from his vantage point.

Sullivan sat up abruptly, this time bumping Sunny in the process and stirring him from sleep. It was only a moment later when he clumsily scrambled over the chiseled torso in between him and the now legible wall. Sullivan put his palms alongside the text, kneeling as he stared in amazement. His eyes were wide as saucers as he looked around wildly, gasping in astonishment as one by one, the mysteries revealed themselves.

Finally, when the realization had sunken in good and well, Sullivan turned to his confused and concerned partner with all the uncontainable excitement and elation welling inside of him.

“I CAN READ!” he exclaimed, almost overcome with gratitude from this unforeseen ‘divine’ intervention.

Wednesday 11 November 2020; Midnight.

You are sleeping. The dream you’re having halts abruptly and you become aware you’re dreaming. A light appears at the edge of your vision, an impossibly bright, golden light. Even as you turn to look at it you see nothing but a light that feels both like it’s searing your eyes as well as gently warming your very soul.

It speaks to you without words, though you understand it all. “Darling boy, you are ill-prepared for the dark times that await you.” You are still blinded by the light, but you feel as though you’re being smiled at. Yet, you can’t shake the feeling the expression is somehow feral. “I’ve seen your past. Though they were meddling where they had no right, it seems someone has tried to help you once already.” The light reaches towards you until all you see, eyes closed or open, is searing golden light that penetrates your brain. As your consciousness fades you hear these departing words, “This is the last of the assistance you’ll get. Never say Shukra didn’t help you.”

You awaken abruptly, drenched in sweat with a blinding headache. Eventually, you realize something’s changed. Acting on instinct, you fetch the tome the River Witch gifted you. You can now read the ancient demonic language.

You have been blessed by Shukra, Guru of the demons, bestower of knowledge.

[sullivanspade]

Deity Aesthetics

EROS • scornful jealousy • pink • presents a certain decorum • heavy air in a nightclub • has a tattoo they regret • sex & love therapist for their friends • juvenescent • uses enchantments • aloof • wears rose-coloured glasses • velvet, latex, & lingerie • milk baths with champagne bubbles • impetuous in love • intense eye contact is a sport • kinky • soft lips • wears stacked rings • sets fashion trends • graceful movements • marble floors • heavy perfume or cologne • deeply emotional • born glamorous •  [ 5 / 23 ]

HECATE • prefers canine companions • wears symbolic jewelry • can see spirits • melting wax • uses hexes • feels most comfortable at night • smell of cinnamon • moonlight • red wine • understands poisons & herbs • collects bones or feathers • partakes in rituals • black • fog at night • is aware of their shadow self • embraces the unknown • enjoys collecting secrets • approves of necromancy • meditates • has prophetic dreams • lace • knowing too many secrets • fishnet stockings • [ 14 / 23 ]

PAN • enjoys poetry & prose • wool • smell of decaying leaves in autumn • prefers to be barefoot  • tends to overindulge  • easily excitable • thriving in social circles • loves being around campfire  • antlers • dirt paths • the sound of wind chimes • penchant for sticky fingers • pine trees • stamina for days • falls in lust • vagabond • physically stronger than given credit for • foxglove • welcomes luxury • non-confrontational • charming words • talking to animals • nature for jewelry • [ 5 / 23 ]

NEMESIS • angry • protective of their values • balance & harmony • looks like an angel but isn’t • more perceptive than people realize • snow capped mountains • grey • wears leather • silver jewelry • likes snakes • can’t stand ignorance • believes in retribution • analytical of own emotions • well read • marble columns • has very rigid morals • bruised knuckles • humorous under the sarcasm • clean workspace • everything in moderation • cold morning air • resting glare face • fluent in curse words • [ 13 / 23 ]

HYPNOS • very calm demeanor • easily overwhelmed • relaxing is their vice • transactional friendships • has a soft voice • head in the clouds • carries drugs with them • has a sibling they’re close with • drawn to winged animals • lavender • has plush furniture/blankets  • starry eyed • horrible money management  • gives amazing hugs • dreaming big as a full time job • wears comfy or loose clothes • existential questions • not good at memory based skills • fairy lights • can’t sleep somewhere unfamiliar • crystalline chandeliers • dislikes bright sun • fluttering eyelashes • [ 8 / 23 ]

IRIS • life’s a technicolor spectrum • has a lot to say • beaming smiles • always has candy with them • flirting by accident • walking to the beat of their own drum • gossamer curtains • has a surprising amount of connections • blushes very easily • confident laughter • uses a staff • fresh fruit slices • decorated handwritten letters • a social chameleon • blood made of honey • treating people with kindness • sentimental heart • vases full of wildflowers • feels fulfilled when helping others • has a healing aura • always travelling • stained glass windows • just trying to be a good person • [ 8 / 23 ]

[sullivanspade]

Sullivan does not speak of his family often and he does not speak of them easily. 

He was raised solely by his mother, who had every reason to re-experience the heartache associated with his father’s abandonment every time she looked at him, but she didn’t. Her heart ached for a different reason; it ached with love for the sensitive, intelligent boy she’d brought into the world. Every day was a life or death battle in the household they served. She promised herself that, if it came down to it...when it came down to it, she would give her life for her child.

She kept her promise.

Sullivan has never met his father and his mother stubbornly remained silent about his identity for most of his youth. In fact, she didn’t speak about any family; not even her own. Sullivan has always been an inquisitive boy, but no amount of questioning resulted in any direct information about his mother’s side of the family and very, very little about his father. Little by little, her equally stubborn child collected clues and slips of the tongue until he had a few solid leads to check into. He knew that his father was a Heart. He knew that he was high ranking. And he knew that he had two families; one that was secret and unacknowledged and one that was celebrated. His real family.

That amount of information in itself still left a daunting pool of possibilities for Sullivan to sort through, but it wasn’t going to keep him from trying. However, if it hadn’t been for a chance encounter, he might never have figured things out for sure. At the ripe old age of twelve, the sourpussed boy headed boldly into Heart territory in order to find his father. Who he found instead, were two identical sourpussed young girls. The resemblance between them (of course) and himself was enough to halt him in his tracks.

The pair stood outside a storefront, arms linked. They wore identical crimson dresses with black beading and sevens on their wrists. He approached them in a stupor, clearly stunned, but the twins regarded him with a chilling sort of amusement. Long, jet black pigtail braids, sharp cold eyes, and persed, scowling pouts slowly began to twist into something similar to a smile the more he stared at them, clearly dumbfounded.

A shrill voice from the doorway behind them stole Sullivan’s attention. A stunning, beautifully dressed woman with short black hair and bright red lips practically hissed at the girls to get away from ‘that filthy vagrant’ or something of the like. Sullivan was the one to jump back and avert his gaze, at least momentarily. He did know his place despite his ambition.

The trio entered an awaiting carriage and Sullivan leaned back against the brick building, mind still reeling from the encounter. Several clerks from the store loaded packages onto the back of the vehicle as the shop owner and another man exited the store. “As always, it’s an honor to serve your family, Mr. Jeon,” the owner said cordially, but Mr. Jeon didn’t respond. He was too busy staring at the young imposter who now stared at him; eyes bored into his, searching his face imploringly, searching for something he unknowingly revealed in the way he was the first to cast his eyes away.

Before he realized what was happening, Sullivan felt a sharp pain in his chest and the resulting blow knocked him to the ground. Henry took the chance to escape, white as a sheet as he entered the carriage. The driver shut the door but it didn’t keep him from grimacing as he witnessed the shop owner repeatedly kick the boy until he crawled away and then fled into a nearby alley.

Minah dressed his wounds when Sullivan came limping home. It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened to her boy, but usually he would tell her what happened. No matter how furious he was, no matter how hurt he was, no matter how hard he was bawling, he would tell her. His silence now, was frightening. She could see him shaking with fury, hot anguished tears brimming in his eyes, but no amount of prodding could get him to reveal what had happened.

As his mother comforted him, Sullivan did his best to reconcile what had happened. In the end, he decided that he and his father were the same. They both had two families; one that was and would continue to be unacknowledged...and one that was real.

[sullivanspade]

kadeuyongsun​:

   perhaps there’s something to be said about the way sullivan has seemingly taken sunny over. it’s not necessarily a bad thing, not in sunny’s terms — sullivan had become a nice change of pace, ever since they met. a break from the palace, a break from everything that sunny felt so used to. it was supposed to be harrowing, this sudden change, and yet he’d found himself lunging towards it. embracing it, enjoying it, wanting more ; more of sullivan in his life. that’s not such a bad thing, is it ?

   there’s something oddly familiar about the way the other’s hand fits into his own, something familiar that sunny can’t quite place. the coolness of sullivan’s skin is enough to keep sunny grounded, though makes it difficult for him — difficult to not be hyperaware of the situation, of how the other hasn’t seemed so … forward, before. without so much as a second thought, sunny finds himself giving sullivan’s hand a quick squeeze, the kind of reassurance. “ of course it’s okay, ” he replies, the hint of a smile in his tone. 

   he resumes guiding the other, walking ahead of him, yet refusing to let go of his hand. not yet, just a little longer, just a few more minutes — a few more minutes of having sullivan close like this. he turns just enough to speak over his shoulder, another squeeze of sullivan’s hand accenting his words, “ is there anything you’d wanna see first ? i promise you, i doubt it may be as exciting as you think. then again, it could just be me who thinks that. i just figured, y’know, a little change would be nice. i’m sure you’ve gotten tired of just sitting around and doing nothing with me. ” there’s more he wants to say, a million things more ; the effect of his nerves feeling so frazzled. the need to impress yet downplay, the need to keep the other close, the need to refrain from rambling, and rambling, and rambling — it should all be too much, shouldn’t it ? yet, being with sullivan brings a certain kind of ease to sunny. maybe he’s looking too far into it, thinking too long about it. 

It was only when Yongsun squeezed his hand that Sullivan really realized he’d been the one to place it there. He’d been so excited by the prospect of a backstage tour that he’d just latched onto him and now, now they were holding hands and Sullivan was having an even more difficult time functioning. He knew the warmth in his cheeks had increased and he bashfully averted his eyes but only managed to keep them off of Sunny for a moment.

Once he was speaking to him again, asking him what he’d like to see, Sullivan’s starry eyes were glued to him. Despite his innate proclivity to be or become uncomfortable in every situation, Sullivan was having a difficult time maintaining any sort of negative emotion. Yongsun’s voice soothed him. The repeatedly gentle squeezes to his hand reassured him and gradually warmed his icy little digits. He just couldn’t help enjoying himself. Sunny made it impossible for him not to feel comfortable and that was really saying something.

“I’d really love to see your dressing room,” Sullivan admitted, trying and failing to suppress an excited smile when Yongsun met his gaze.

[sullivanspade]

WEALTH  —

$  financial — wealthy / moderate / poor /  in poverty ✚  medical — fit  / moderate /  sickly  /  disabled  /  disadvantaged / non-applicable ✪  class or caste — high / low / serf  / revolutionary ✔  education — qualified  /  unqualified  / studying /  other ✖  criminal  record — yes,  for  major  crimes  /  yes,  for  minor  crimes / no / has  committed  crimes,  but  has  not  been  caught  yet

FAMILY  —

◓  marital  status — married  happily /  married  unhappily /  engaged  or  betrothed /  partnered  /  single  /  divorced  / separated  /  widowed ◒ children — has  a  child  or  children  /  has  no  children  /  wants  children  /  does not want children ◑  relationship with family — close  with  sibling ( s ) / not close with sibling(s) / has  no  siblings  /  deceased sibling ( s ) ◔  affiliation — orphaned (half) / adopted  / disowned (half) / raised by birth parents  (half) / not  applicable

TRAITS  +  TENDENCIES   —

extroverted  /  introverted  / in-between disorganized /  organized  / in-between close-minded  / open-minded  / in-between calm /  anxious  / in-between disagreeable / agreeable /   in-between cautious  /  reckless /   in-between patient /  impatient  / in-between outspoken  /  reserved  / in-between leader  /  follower /   in-between empathetic  / unempathetic /   in-between optimistic /  pessimistic  /   in-between traditional  /  modern  /  in-between hard-working  / lazy  /  in-between cultured / uncultured  / in-between /  unknown loyal  /  disloyal  / unknown faithful /  unfaithful / unknown

BELIEFS  —

★  faith — monotheist  /  polytheist  /  atheist  /  agnostic  /  it’s  complicated ☆  belief  in  ghosts  or  spirits — yes  /  no  /  don’t  know /  don’t  care ✮  belief  in  an  afterlife — yes /  no  /  don’t know  /  don’t  care ✯  belief  in  reincarnation — yes  /  no  /  don’t  know  /  don’t  care ❃  belief  in  aliens — yes  / no /  don’t  know / don’t  care ❀  philosophical — yes /  no

SEXUALITY  &  ROMANTIC  INCLINATION  —

❤  sexuality — heterosexual  /  homosexual  / bisexual /  asexual /  pansexual  / demisexual ❥  sex — asexual / sex-repulsed  /  sex-neutral  /  sex-favorable /  naive and clueless ♥  romance — aromantic / romance-repulsed  / romance-neutral  /  romance-favorable  / naive and clueless ❣  sexually — adventurous  /  experienced  /  naive /  inexperienced /  curious /  inhibited

ABILITIES   —

☠  combat  skills — excellent  /  good /  moderate /  poor / none   ≡  literacy  skills — excellent /  good  / moderate / poor  / none ✍  artistic  skills — excellent  /  good  /  moderate /  poor  /  none ✂  technical  skills — excellent /  good /  moderate  / poor  /  none

HABITS   —

☕ drinking  alcohol — never  /  sometimes / frequently / to excess ☁ smoking — trying  to  quit  / never  / sometimes  /  frequently  /  to excess ✿  other  narcotics — never  /  sometimes  /  frequently  /  to excess ✌  medicinal  drugs — never /  sometimes  / frequently /  to excess ☻ indulgent  food — never  /  sometimes  /  frequently  / to excess $ splurge spending — never  /  sometimes  /  frequently / to excess ♣  gambling — never  / sometimes  / frequently / to excess

[sullivanspade]

junganton​:

Listening attentively, Anton resisted the urge to fidget in his seat. This was going to be on ongoing problem during Chicago but it wasn’t like he had much choice in the matter. Even if he left now the Strongarm rather doubted he’d be offered a refund simply because the seats were too small. No, he would simply have to deal with it. 

“I’ve never thought of that,” the man replied truthfully, his eyes roaming over the closed curtain and the intricate proscenium with interest. “I imagine it’s a lot of blank expressions that suddenly become… whatever’s appropriate the scene? I couldn’t imagine being an actor myself, rubbish at lying.” Shade had always been the neglect-to-answer type rather than the lie-with-a-winning-smile. 

Sullivan couldn’t resist the urge and carefully stole a glance at Anton in the now dark theater. It seemed a bit of a paradoxical statement. Was this charming gentleman actually rubbish at lying? Claiming to be seemed only polite. Admitting the opposite wasn’t something the average person would do, in fact, it would undoubtedly stir suspicion and distrust. He couldn’t help being curious if Anton was being honest now, or just polite.

“Me too,” Sullivan lied softly, his tone sweet. The curtains pulled back just then and the audience took their cue to applaud in anticipation of the starting performance. The orchestra began playing the opening interlude and Sullivan began to tune out everyone and everything around him. He remained vaguely aware of Anton beside him simply because he was so close, but surprisingly, he found that he didn’t outright object to the proximity. He considered their surprise meeting a pleasant one, however, as soon as a certain tall, dark, and handsome performer strolled onto the stage, nothing short of the Palace falling down around them could’ve stolen Sullivan’s attention.

END.

[sullivanspade]

31 October 2020; 22:20. 

Merlin Gayle you have been accused by Anni Oakley @evaxsombra​ of poisoning the butler!

Please respond to this accusation!

Sullivan Merlin had found a place to sit and was busy sulking as the event drew to a close. Elbows propped up by a side table and head propped up by the backs of his hands, the servant’s lips pressed into a thin line as he shifted resentful, narrowed eyes toward his accuser. His mood had blatantly deteriorated since discovering additional non-consensual decoration on his body and he was having a difficult time hiding his disdain. Ending up accused of murder was the proverbial ‘icing on the cake’ after the evening’s turn of events.  

He dropped a hand from his chin to his chest and fished around inside his jacket before retrieving the card he’d been handed upon entering the manor. His eyes scanned down the lines of text as he looked for instruction on how he was expected to continue at this point in the game, lips beginning to move as he read. “Read this out loud if you get arrested?” he grumbled under his breath as he neared and then located what he assumed was the appropriate line he was to recite. He cleared his throat before speaking loud enough for all to hear.

“I admit, I hated the butler but I didn’t kill him.”

[sullivanspade]

Every Blue Moon Festival is like his first.

Though by this point, they numbered a few in handfuls, Sullivan still approached the scene with the same wonder and excitement as any human child beholding the glamour and magic of it all for the first time. He had spent countless days here at the Joker. Sullivan knew every turn in the road, every side street, and alleyway. Every cobblestone underfoot, to and fro, but it was only on nights like this; when every surface was coated with a thick layer of magic and fairy dust, that he could forget the monotony and mundanity of it all. Ignorance is bliss. And willful ignorance is as selfish as it is human nature.

The festival holds deeper significance to the former human this time. This time it's the Ritualist who is attending, not just a wide-eyed boy, desperate to believe in magic. And the Ritualist can't seem to take his eyes off of the massive, crystal-adorned arch that's pulsating and radiating with magic. Being absent from the preliminary festivities was a blessing in disguise. With anyone of import already passed through, Sullivan was unfettered in his examination of the portal. To think he could open something like this. He could connect time and space between two adjacent realms, open a passageway between them, allow living, breathing beings to pass from one into the other...it was astounding.

Sullivan reached up to touch one of the crystals, curiosity getting the better of him. His sleeve exposed an angry red circle with a bar over a clover now etched into the pale skin of his wrist. It caught his gaze and caused him to stop short in his reach. He retracted his arm, opposite hand clasping his wrist as if it had burned. Hadn't it? It certainly felt like his sins had been branded onto his skin for all to see. 

Perhaps that was enough investigation for the night. Yes, it was certainly enough.

Sullivan eagerly convinced himself the portal looked just as lovely from the refreshment table he found himself in front of as it did up close. He helped himself to a few pastries and several chalices of what was either purposefully or inevitably spiked punch and decided he'd be on his way. The feeling of a small hand gripping his arm was more than enough to startle the admittedly skittish young man. Eyes widened and then narrowed, he prepared himself for the displeasure of detaching whatever inebriated personage had latched onto him.

Annoyance immediately shifted to concern when he laid eyes on Sayge. Outright skepticism and an irrepressible will to believe made for a fitting tug-of-war outlook for the Piscean, but Sullivan had no doubt the sincerity of the lady's plea when it fell upon his ears, both pair of them. He was born a slave; servitude was a condition of his existence. Obedience was beaten into his bones and his head from birth. When something was asked of him, it was 'do, or die,' quite literally.

While it was in his nature to obey, agreeing to abet this or any person in need went against every self-preservation instinct that had brought him twenty-seven and a half years through life to this very day. Every cell inside of him was screaming for him to nope right out of the situation. He didn't know this...this faery princess! He didn't know her mother! Although, if she was the incredibly intimidating looking woman eerily gliding closer to them he could empathize with her desire to flee.

And with that, he grimaced, rueing the compassion that inevitably dictated his actions. 'Damnit, Sullivan! You're a coward! And this is not how cowards behave!' he scolded himself as he hastily pulled his arm from her grasp and replaced it with his hand. "Come this way," he urged, tugging the maiden through throngs of festival-goers. He is lithe and swift, adept at slipping between people rather than waiting for them to move for him. (He’d be waiting forever.) Yet, he is mindful of her; account of her attire and distress level taken and factored into the path he's chosen. A path that leads them away from the iridescent glow surrounding the portal and further from the threat and burden of Sayge's familial obligations.

𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐅𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥, 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐉𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐫. 00:06 

No place was unoccupied, and no shadow cast was there to offer shelter. The brightness of the festival made it impossible to hide. Funny though, when usually it was easier to hide from everybody in crowded places, but to Sayge, it became an odyssey, relatives were multiplying as bubbles fighting its way from pouty mouths to the surface.

Going from courtesy to courtesy only to meet looks of annoyance at the shameful color she was still wearing, no time to notice the strange behavior of everyone at the festival. The Fae finally took the grasp of a coincidence, when the path cleared, and she had a minute to breathe, to process her ideas, her excuses. A minute that didn’t live up to her expectations, as mother was finding the way to her again, moving through the sea of people. Mother came to fish.

The rush of the moment made Sayge act in despair, turning in her heels to grab from the upper arm the first living creature passing by, some unlucky or perhaps lucky soul, to use as a shield. The glittery shine of his garment was not reason enough to change her mind over the victim selection, neither was the ears. “Help me— mother might take me away. They are coming for me.” The pleading tone of voice showing more desperation than intended. She couldn’t see the painful expression of her face or how it complimented the damsel in distress appearance she was portraying, the tender looks following her that night, but she was exhausted. The perfect picture of a maiden running away from danger to the arms of a stranger. “Hide me, help me hide.”

@sullivanspade

[sullivanspade]

Sullivan couldn’t help nor hide the way his eyes went wide as saucers, when Sunny so casually informed him he was going to go mingle for a moment before things got started. He stayed right where he left him, inwardly attempting to reason with himself. ‘You’re fine. It’s fine. Everything...is fine.’ To say he was out of his element was an egregious understatement. This sort of scenario was probably child’s play to someone like Sunny or Ara. Maybe even to those who were accustomed to a deceitful lifestyle. For Sullivan, this was a challenge he’d decided to undertake purely from his desire to attend the function as Sunny’s date.

Now that he was on his own, Sullivan was seriously reconsidering things. His self doubt took over and before he knew it, he’d backed himself into a corner. Sure, he still had Yongsun in view, but a corner nonetheless. He fidgeted nervously, his heart skipping a beat when he saw Sunny greet Ara and then skipped several more beats when they both looked his way. He tried and failed to look natural, inwardly wincing each time Ara inevitably glanced back at him and caught him staring. He couldn’t help worrying about Ara’s opinion in particular. She was right up there on par with Sunny’s family when it came to how much her opinion of him mattered.

She flashed Sunny a brilliant smile that left Sullivan half-blinded from across the room. Each step closer to him increased the flush in his cheeks and the wideness of his eyes. Surely, she was going to change direction any moment now and speak to someone actually worthy of her attention. Or, perhaps she was going to address someone standing behind him, which was a small comfort until he remembered he was standing against a wall.

Not in a hundred years would he have imagined he’d end up cornered by the beautiful Ara Moon and yet, here he was. Not only was she even lovelier up close than he’d thought possible, she had only lovely things to say to him. Maybe this was a dream. When she thanked him for helping Sunny, Sullivan finally managed to find his ability to speak. Even his cheeks seemed to calm to a less vivid shade of red in his effort to sincerely convey his intentions to Sunny’s dear friend. 

“Please, Ms. Moon,” he beseeched softly, the tone and depth of his voice a stark contrast to his appearance. “There’s no need for thanks,” he insisted. “Sunny is...very dear to me,” he admitted, his cheeks regaining their previous hue and then some. “I would do anything for him,” he stated, offering a sheepish smile. “Uh,” he paused, reaching up to scratch behind his ear as he tried to retain his composure. “It really is an honor to meet you...I’m sincerely a fan,” he gushed softly, his smile widening to the point that his gums peeked out and his eye-smile appeared, a sight that had been about as rare as a Blue Moon, at least, since before meeting Yongsun.

October 31st, 8:53pm

404 Emerald Way, Murder Mystery

@sullivanspade​

While talking with Yongsun about the subject of his affections, Ara had inevitably glanced Sullivan’s way and caught his eye. She found the glances away from her each time their eyes met to be very endearing. His shyness was obvious but so was the affection in his look as he gazed at her fellow actor. He may not know it yet, but the feeling in the look that the two young men shared alone made her like him. 

Grinning, she turned to Yongsun and excused herself, wanting to speak with this spade alone.Half empty glass in hand, she kept a pleasant smile on her face as she made her way to the young spade. She took the straight path, making it very clear that he was her intended target. Reaching him, her smile widened easily. 

“I’m glad you could make it. I’ve hear a lot about you, Sullivan. While I’ll be Lavender Jenkins for the majority of this evening, for now please call me Ara.” Her smile softened as she continued. “I’ve also heard how much you’ve been helping Yongsun since.. Well, since the fires. And I wanted a chance to properly thank you. He’s a very important person to me, and I can’t begin to express how happy I am that he has someone else he can rely on.”

[sullivanspade]

☠ MURDER at 404 Emerald Way

Sullivan possesses nowhere near the wealth or status of many of the event’s participants but he’s done his best to dress up enough that he doesn’t stand out for the wrong reasons. He donned a black and shiny silver tweed suit jacket, which contrasts nicely with matte texture of his skintight black suede pants. Underneath, he chose a simple white button down shirt that he has actually never worn in public because the neckline is so low. He owns very little jewelry so a pair of simple silver hoop earrings are all he wears.

☠ A Black Cat has crossed your path...

Being the pragmatic lad he is, Sullivan has chosen a practical and portable costume for activities outside of the themed mystery event. With fuzzy black ears and tail he’s made himself, his costume is completed by a simple black choker with a tiny golden bell that jingles enticingly whenever he moves.

[sullivanspade]

Someone: “So how’s your life going?”

Me:

[sullivanspade]

sam-nittaya​:

Samael savored every moment that passed while his would-be pupil stood near those glassy windows, watching as he looked out into an unfathomable darkness in wait. He was alone, just as Sam had requested, and dressed well of his own accord, it seemed. Good boy. Hidden from view, a simple repellent spell kept the demon dry as he considered the man who was slightly older than Samirat. The black umbrella was just for show as he stood beneath a tree amidst the almost choking petrichor of falling rain. All he needed was an introduction after having what he knew thus far of the aspirant. At that moment, a close-lipped smile tugged at the corners of his lips, already imagining the addictive pull of been wanted for more.

If this went well, Samael would have a primary tether to this realm, and if he could raise a would-be ritualist to become something more, then he would prove his usefulness as a powerful ally. And eventually, leader himself. He needed to know that the man who sought power would actually be able to wield it, and do it well. Not only that, but he needed to gauge his desire and ambition. Would he panic and get himself killed if he opened a rift into the nether? The thought amused him greatly, but no. Sam didn’t wasn’t in the mood for a salty snack when he craved a sweet dessert. And what a sweet-looking face he had, too. Sam wondered just how much it would take to break someone like that. I’ll have to try it sometime.

Despite this being beneath him– all of this, this realm, this vessel, this endeavor– it was an entertaining game from which he would emerge the victor in fifty-something years if he wasn’t killed sooner. Like chess, one could simply swat the board and walk away, but where was the fun in that? To win, you had to play by the rules. And sure, his power was relatively weak at present, but Sam had only just arrived two years prior and these things took a little time, relatively speaking. It was an art. And rushing perfection was only going to lessen its effect later. A nigh-immortal, powerful demon like himself had nothing but time at his disposal.

Sam arrived at that door precisely when he meant to. Which was exactly on time, not a second over and not a second under. Punctuality was a sign of neatness, and he was no messy demon. Most of the time, anyway. He emerged  from the shadows, dressed immaculately in pressed, fitted dark slacks, a black button-down shirt, and a fitted, slate and black vest beneath a brocade jacket that had embroidered details with spades along the seam. A pocket watch was neatly tucked into his pocket with its silver chain catching the light from the glass windows as he approached the general’s home. His hair was only partially slicked back on one side, while it fell in a neat, almost coy, boyish way on the left side, partially hiding a scar on the cusp of his brow bone. Under his arm, he had a sleek, black leather portfolio tucked. His slender fingers reached for the knocker on the door, knocking twice and waiting patiently.

When the door finally opened, Sam slowly lowered his umbrella, closing it and finding the other’s eyes with his stormy gray hues. “I believe you’re expecting me, Sullivan. Allow me to introduce myself,” he said. “My name is Sam, and if you’re not mistaken, you seek my… assistance.” There was a gleam in his eyes, though his face and neutral demeanor seemed to betray no emotion. “And I believe you may assist me in return.”

                                                                    -·=»‡«=·-

A fleeting glint in the cascading darkness was the first thing, no, the only thing that caught Sullivan’s not-as-sharp-as-he-intended-it-to-be gaze. He also intended to move to the front door, to unlock the heavy bolt that secured it in preparation for his approaching guest. But he did not . He could not. He felt frozen, in that moment.

This was it. This was the moment. A pivotal change in his life was occuring. In some regards, the situation seemed mundane. Most of the life changing events he’d experienced so far had not been anything like this, which was possibly why his body had locked up like it had. After living in terror, day after agonizing day for years. After enduring constant humiliation and servitude through waking hours and still, preferring that to the dread and misery that accompanied the fall of darkness, instead this was the situation that was so alien to him, so foreign that he couldn’t move three paces to open the door.

Knock...DONG...Knock.

Sullivan flinched, chills suddenly racing down his stockstill body. The following heavy chimes from the large clock at the other side of the room fell on deaf ears. Surely, it was a coincidence that his visitor had arrived with such precision at their intended meeting. Surely, it was only that. Still, the shivering seemed to help loosen his tense body and though it felt like longer, it was mere seconds before he reached the door and hurriedly unlocked it. 

Now, it had been raining like this, like someone had taken a dagger and cruelly split open the belly of the sky, for the entire day. Even the cold, frozen earth on which it fell had been moved, emulsifying into an icy sludge that was both heavy and slippery. He was expecting the staggering roar of the relentlessly pounding rain as he unsealed the door to their abode and confronted the elements. He was expecting, well, a mess, to be honest. And that, of course, was no fault of Sam’s!

Even before he’d fully opened the door, Sullivan was trying to align the proper verbage he’d need when requesting he remove his boots so mud was not tracked into the house. It was not that their Ace so rigid that he could not overlook a bit of filth on the hardwood. On the contrary! It was Sullivan who was that rigid, and ultimately, the one who would be cleaning up that impending mess. 

He was also expecting that Sam would be on his way to drenched. He’d already seen a handful of Spades slipping, sliding, and being generally blown around umbrella-less as he’d awaited his arrival, but this was the kind of rain that plummeted so forcefully that it’d splash and ricochet off of and onto any surrounding surface. He caught sight of the umbrella before anything else as the door continued to open and he was momentarily reassured that he had at least the smallest amount of sense in utilizing one, but still, he was expecting Sam to be at least half-drenched.

He was also expecting the form that would greet him. He knew of the Nittaya’s, of course. And while he had seen Samirat several times in passing over the years, he had given much more of his attention to the beautifully tailored garments featured behind the glass of the family’s storefront. Now, as he held the door fully opened and took a step back, Sullivan was realizing quite belatedly, that none of his expectations were being met.

The rain was not deafening, as he’d anticipated. It was a mere dull roar in his ears as his eyes clearly beheld the figure in front of him. He couldn’t help that his gaze went immediately to Sam’s boots, still distracted by his eagerness to avoid spending the evening on his hands and knees scrubbing the floor. However, there was not a speck of sludge on his boots, nor a drop of rain on them...in fact, as Sullivan’s rounded orbs drifted further and further upwards, he could not find an ounce of evidence that Sam had been out in this storm.

Except for the fact that he was standing a mere two paces from him...in this storm.

Was this real? Was it really possible that he was in the presence of a being so clever that not even rain falling from the heavens could manage to hit him? He had seen ‘magic’ before. Fireballs and waterbolts; even Ara conjured wind at opportune moments during performances at The Palace. But this...the simplicity of it, the practicality of it...this was magic.

Sam lowered his umbrella as he stepped over the threshold and into Sullivan’s safe haven. Again, his expectations were incorrect. Yes, this person looked like someone he’d seen before but it was immediately evident to Sullivan that he was not the same person. The way he moved, no, more like the way he carried himself. Not so much the tone of his voice, but the words he chose. And despite a lack of what Sullivan identified as sincerity, there was an unmistakable glint of...something, in his smoke-hued eyes. 

Sullivan found himself speechless through their initial introduction, which he bitterly deduced was most likely Sam’s intention. He found his voice once he averted his gaze from Sam, instead choosing to close the door before any rain splashed in. “I have been...looking forward to making your acquaintance,” he said, politely extending his hand to retrieve Sam’s umbrella so that he could lean it against the doorframe until his departure.

His voice does not match his appearance. While in form he is light and compact, his attire prim and stately, his voice starkly contrasts. Deeper than what suits him, gravelly in comparison to gentle features and mannerisms. The husky tones carved into his voice box from years of silent screams and sobs. “What’s your drink of pleasure? I will prepare it while you make yourself comfortable,” he invited, although again, his voice echoed of formality that warned Sam should not make himself too comfortable. In fact, Sullivan gestured not to the sofa in the room where they stood, but toward the adjacent room where a rather rigid dining table and chairs sat.