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littlemisslipbalm · 4 years

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“Harry’s stylist, right?”

Summary: Harry and his personal stylist are great collaborators, on screen and off. She helps his visions come to life and in turn they’ve become close friends. As she helps him to bring his fashion dreams come to life during the Fine Line era, will some other dreams come to life as well?

Harry and his stylist go from colleagues to friends to lovers because they’ve been in love with each other from the jump

this fit is very important to this part lmaooo - I literally have no idea what to call this lol, anyway I've been sitting on this for forever and I wanted to get something out for yall and i love this story there will be a part 2 when i get to a writing mood. I love this story bc its my literal dream - anyway!! pls enjoy and reblog and lmk what you think :)

Word Count: 14k | Warnings: swearing, drinking, tame for now, should be smut eventually - aka slow burn (what else would you expect from me at this point i guess)

part 2

“Hey, H, I just had a question about one of the SNL outfits? Do you have a sec?”

Harry looked up from his phone and raised his brows at his stylist, Y/N.

Y/N had worked with Harry previously. In photoshoots for Another Man magazine and his most recent Gucci campaign. As well as some other random times, such as one-off award show looks and specific appearances. However, this past summer Harry had hired Y/N to work fulltime for him, exclusively. He had told her that he was planning on releasing his second album in the winter and he wanted someone there to help him plan his clothes for music videos, award season, interview appearances, as well as tour outfits.

Y/N stood just inside the doorway of the room, leaning her back against the wall, looking expectantly at him. Her eyes were wide and her lips were pursed. She was dressed simply in a white satin skirt and a matching cropped button-up, they both had cream flowers embroidered on, paired with horsebit slim Gucci mules. Her style was eclectic, but she had definitely noticed an increase of Gucci in her wardrobe since starting her employment with Harry.

Y/N’s passion in life was fashion and clothes and she constantly worried that one of Harry’s outfits wouldn’t deliver as much as she wanted it to. He was quick to tell her not to worry so much though, as long as they both were happy with it, how could anyone else not love it. Plus, he’d always add, it didn’t really matter what anyone else thought. But as more and more events began to crop up, Y/N’s worry over her work grew. She had only been the head stylist for Harry on projects that were still underwraps - except for Lights Up which had been released a couple weeks ago now.

The first project she ever worked on with Harry as his full-time personal stylist was the Lights Up music video. She had never worked so closely with one person for so long on just one project. Harry was insistent in vision and came in the first day filled with ideas, what he imagined for the video's concept and how he wanted to incorporate clothes. She had been happy to make his dreams become reality.

The two of them spent hours at his house for weeks, pouring over every detail of every outfit he planned to wear. They both wanted it to be perfect. And eventually, it all came together, exactly how they had planned. All of the garments for the video took up two entire garment racks. Y/N had made Harry pose in every single outfit for polaroids that she dated and then put into a lookbook she started for him. She had told him she planned to document every outfit she styled for him and Harry had been so excited. The outfits he wore in the video were received with praise when it was finally released, and Harry and Y/N were overjoyed. There was already a party for its release, but they both were especially happy that night. Throughout the evening, Harry and Y/N would gravitate to one another and fall into side conversations about the outfits and what people had been saying. Even if Harry said it didn’t matter, he and Y/N both knew, at the end of the day, they loved when people were happy with their work.

“Sure,” he bounced to his feet, but Y/N made a hand motion telling him that he could stay seated. He settled back down as she crossed over and sat beside him on his couch.

She was at his house in London today planning his next few appearances that were promotion for the upcoming album, Saturday Night Live was next. Harry had been taking a break from their work until she had come in.

It wasn’t unusual for Y/N to be at his house, they had been working together for months now. First, it had been for his outfits in his music videos that were filmed in late summer and early fall, like Lights up, but also a few other ones. Now, it was clothing for promo appearances, interviews, and listening parties. Next, it would be tour outfits, which she had already started planning, but officially, they hadn’t started discussions yet. Harry had helped her to get a flat closer to his house in London just for her to be able to head over and help with the planning or fitting of his outfits more easily. She also was constantly traveling with him to his appearances, making sure outfits were perfect right before whatever show it was or making last minute adjustments in case either of them decided something wasn’t right.

While Harry was a big guy, his waist was far trimmer than a usual man built to his size, this meant she had to take in a lot of his trousers at the waist. As well, with his shirts and coats, she’d have to take them in or out depending on how Harry wanted the fit to be - either perfectly tight or perfectly oversized. He was particular, but she appreciated his drive for fashion and how he cared for his appearance. Before performances, she often had to take things in or out based on any body fluctuation that had occurred since the initial fitting.

She was looking at her sketchpad that held all of her notes on his clothes - which was different from the lookbook of polaroids - including patches of the actual colors and little Harry figures dressed in what he was going to wear. Right now, she had the pad opened to a page titled “SNL Opener - November 16, 2019”.

“So I was thinking with your opening monologue outfit, it might look better to have a different colored blazer? A matching yellow would be great, but if you did more of a toned down - maybe light tan or beige - blazer with gold embellishments, you’d elevate it to look sophisticated and stylish, rather than just stylish. It’d be exactly like the runway look - which I know you sometimes don’t like, but I think it’s what looks best.”

She ran her finger between two swatches of what she thought would be the better blazer color and the one Harry had originally wanted. He wet his lips and gazed at the page as he thought about what she said. Normally, she liked monochrome on him, but she thought the deep blue underneath a completely yellow suit might wash him out on the stage.

“Yeah,” he pointed to the top beige swatch, “I think I do like this better.” He paused and turned his head to Y/N, looking in her eyes before asking, “Is that all?”

“Er...no,” Y/N ran a hand over her unstyled hair, slightly fluffed by her constant musing of it. She often fiddled with it while she worked, better than biting nails she always said when confronted about her tick. After a sigh Y/N continued, “I was just on the phone with Jane from Gucci and she said that for Look 57 they could only send your technical size, for some reason they can’t custom make it. Meaning, I’ll have to tailor the whole thing to you when it arrives. Is that alright? Or do you want to choose something else?”

She flipped to a page that said “SNL WS.” Harry followed her hands and nodded realizing she was talking about the Gucci suit he wanted to wear for Watermelon Sugar. It was a watermelon’s inside red. When he had found out the suit came in that color, he had danced around the dining table for what Y/N had felt like was an hour, humming the tune of Watermelon Sugar excitedly. Finally, she had coaxed him to sit back down and get back to their other work, which was still picking out clothes.

“No, that’s fine,” Harry shook his head and used his thumb to scratch under his lips absentmindedly, “It really needs to be that color.”

She nodded, she knew what his answer was going to be, but she also knew he still liked to make the final decision.

“Alright, we’ll just have to meet for longer when everything arrives, to tailor that one. Then the rest of them should just be making sure the fit is perfect.”

She rose up from her seat and patted Harry’s shoulder, leaving him to his thoughts, as she went back to finish up the calls with Jane and the designers.

He caught her hand in his before she completely walked away, “Thank you, Y/N.” He was so grateful he had hired someone who was as driven as he was and understood his fashion sense and wanted to help enhance what he was thinking, rather than someone trying to control him or just going along with whatever he said. Neither would be productive or helpful, thankfully Y/N loved her job and cared to do things right.

She grinned before exiting, “H, you’re going to be this century’s style icon if it’s the last thing I do.” He laughed as she walked out of the room, leaning back on the couch to continue his lurking on Instagram.

One week later

“I’m here, H! I come bearing Gucci and more!” Y/N said as she shuffled through Harry’s front door, she held a deconstructed rack and a garment bag filled with heavy suits and things. Inside were Harry’s four most important outfits for SNL, some other garments for SNL, and some clothes they had talked about for his upcoming listening sessions later in the month. Y/N needed to check the fit on all of them and begin tailoring the Watermelon Sugar suit. The key Harry had given to Y/N, previously, had let her in, but she assumed he was home. He said he’d be.

When Y/N rounded the corner she found another empty room. Confused, she set down her large items and went to search for Harry. Y/N literally needed him to be here for this part. It was the only real time she actually needed to see him in person - but that was beside the point.

“H?”

She wandered through the different rooms of his home. Normally, Y/N didn’t go into the other rooms, she was always mainly in his lounge area, the dining room, and a little casual office room he had - sometimes the kitchen for water, his bedroom once. Still not finding him, she decided to venture to the furthest door, Harry’s bedroom, she remembered.

Harry groaned at the sound of a knock on his door, he rolled over in his bed. After a few moments of hearing nothing else than his groan, Y/N felt like she had to go in and check on him.

“H, it’s 12:30 and we agreed we’d meet at noon. Are you feeling alright?”

Y/N moved into the room and found a shirtless Harry surrounded by rumpled sheets, clutching at a pillow. He groaned into his pillow again in response. Her legs bent at the edge of the bed and she reached out to smooth some of his chestnut hair out of his face, “What’s wrong?”

He moved his head to allow his eyes to look at her, “‘M so tired, don’t know why. My stomach kind of hurts too…” Y/N looked at him quizzically, before running her hand over his tan forehead once more, this time checking for a fever. “You don’t have a fever. When did you go to sleep? Have you eaten anything today?” With her help, Harry moved into a seated position, head tilted back against the bedpost. He sat silent for a moment before blowing air out of his mouth. “Went to sleep kind of late for me, I guess...Haven’t eaten.”

“Ok, you’re just tired from staying up late, you old man, and you might be a little dehydrated and hungry. Listen, I’ll go make you some food if you get up and prepare yourself for the day. We need to get all your clothes fitted so that I can fix anything before next week.” Y/N was always good at getting Harry back on track when he got distracted - or even out of the station, when he wasn’t in the mood to work on something. She slid from her perch on the bed and walked to almost the edge of the room before Harry called her back.

“Can you pick out my clothes for me?” His soft, tired voice whined. “So hard...and you’ve got the best eye. Pleaseeee,” he pleaded softly.

Rolling her eyes, Y/N sighed and made her way back into his room. Crossing to the door that led to his walk-in closet, she set to work. As silly as he was being, she could never pass up on a chance to pick out an outfit for Harry.

“You’re literally going to be changing the entire time, H, you could have just thrown on sweats,” she called back to him once inside the smaller room. He repeated how she always picked the right thing, even for just around the house. Again, Y/N rolled her eyes at Harry, but she also couldn’t hide the warm smile on her face that was due to his compliment.

She couldn’t believe how dramatic Harry could be sometimes. Right now, he was a lesser form of hungover and he was acting like his life was ending. Y/N had made a note a while ago to never agree to a meeting on the day after any partying. She learned the hard way one particularly terrible Sunday. She had come round his house at a similar time, noon-ish and found Harry dead asleep, backwards in his bed. When she had roused him, his only responses were grumbles and groans. She had to not only pick out his clothes, but also help dress him. Then, after providing water and aspirin, she moved all their work into his bedroom so they could work from there. Harry had proved to be a baby when it came to hangovers. But, she hadn’t realized he could get like this even without being truly hungover.

After settling on his live aid t-shirt, that Y/N was eternally jealous of, located at the front of his drawer and his favorite corduroy trousers, she walked out and threw them in the direction of his toned, but slumped body. “I will not get you boxers, that is most definitely not in my job description, Boss.” Y/N sent a pointed look in his direction, moving to finally leave the room. While he was technically her boss as her employer, their work relationship was extremely collaborative and it never felt like he was in control of her, she just liked to give him shit for being a drama queen.

“Guess I’ll be going commando. How’s that going to work with me changing in front of you a bunch of times?” He teased right back, taking the clothes you had thrown at him and giving them a onceover. His teasing signalled that he was already feeling better.

Y/N shook her head and walked out of the room, “For the love of God, Harry, please put on underwear before you come out and continuously strip in front of me!”

The words he shouted after that were muffled, but they were something along the lines of how the human body is beautiful and shouldn’t be covered up. Unbelievable. As she set to work on making both of them some lunch, she finally heard Harry begin moving around. They had a lot of work to do as it was and whenever Harry was in a mood, whether it be a good mood or a bad mood, they always seemed to have a hard time focusing.

One night, that could be seen as the poster child for Harry and Y/N’s procrastination, was during the planning for the Adore You music video. Harry was in a super good mood that day and he had brought that energy to their meeting at his house. Y/N was supposed to be fitting him for the various outfits, but Harry, in his mania, ordered an overzealous amount of Chinese food. It took her and Harry hours to even make a dent in the food. And while they passed the time with eating, Harry and Y/N got further and further from their tasks, opting for conversations that included more fun topics than work. They had gossipped about some of the other people they worked with, Harry had begged for “the tea” about some of his other staffers and Y/N was happy to oblige. As much as Y/N would hate to admit it, she loved when they got off of work subjects and talked about how their day’s had been and what has been on their nerves lately. It was a nice way to decompress, it was like hanging out with a friend, except it wasn’t, not really.

Harry shuffled into the kitchen wearing what Y/N had picked out for him. Her smile grew knowing that he hadn’t changed what she’d picked. His confidence in her and her abilities never failed to feel like the biggest compliment.

“Go sit at the dining table, I’ve made us some little sandwiches and then we can decide the order we want to go through the outfits in.”

Before following Y/N’s orders, Harry continued his shuffling around, first to the cabinet for a glass, then to the fridge for water. At the end of the table, she set the plates between the head of the table’s spot and the one to its left. Harry took the side spot, so Y/N was on the end. After a bite of his food, Harry moaned loudly in contentment. This caused an amused look on Y/N’s face, there had been nothing special in his house so she had just made what was possible. This meant that Harry’s satisfaction was a little over the top.

“You’re acting like you haven’t eaten in a week. What did you do last night that got you in such a twist?” Y/N asked as she took a sip of her own glass of water. Harry nibbled at his lower lip after swallowing, trying to understand why he was particularly tired today.

“I guess I forgot to eat properly yesterday and then I went out running. And I stayed up late on the phone with,” he paused, eyes flashing to Y/N and then away again, “someone for SNL.”

Y/N hummed at his words before going back to her own eating. She didn’t understand why he hesitated about telling her he’d been on the phone last night, it especially irked her that he wouldn’t even say with whom. Professionally, it wasn’t really her business, but Harry was never secretive with her. Plus, it seemed to be work related so why was he being so flighty about it.

Moving forward, Harry peppier from eating and simply moving around, the pair set to work. They decided on trying on everything else first and then saving the Watermelon Sugar suit to the end. The other three main pieces for the night fit perfectly, Y/N had to only do minor reworks of certain areas.

“H, I need you to hold still…” Y/N interrupted Harry’s ramblings as she was crouched beside him.

She had to take up the hem on the pant legs so right now she was trying to pin them in the place she and Harry had agreed upon, without messing with the pleats.

“Sorry,” He mumbled, straightening out his back to stand taller.

He stayed quiet for a bit until Y/N popped back up, she looked at her notebook for reference on what she still had to tailor.

“Okay, next, the pants crotch is looking pretty fitted, so I assume you want it taken down a bit,” Y/N said as she got back into her crouching position. “Look in the mirror and tell me where you think letting it out looks best, I don’t have the best vantage point when I’m up this close…” she trailed off, placing her measuring tape directly on top of Harry’s crotch and running it down his leg a ways.

Once done with her first attempt at where she thought was best to let the pants out, she turned her eyes to the mirror that showed Harry in his suit with Y/N on her knees before him. Harry cleared his throat as he looked in the mirror, seeing Y/N with her eyes wide in anticipation in the position she was in made him want to run and hide. Her hands were extremely close to his dick, but it was literally her job, he knew he had to shake the thoughts that were running through his mind.

“Maybe just a bit further up actually, as much as I like the high waist with dropped crotch, I want this suit to have that specifically tailored look,” his hands motioned for Y/N to bring the drop up a ways.

Her hands then brought the measuring tape up, once again grazing over his area. Again, Y/N looked at Harry through the mirror for approval, and this time he gave it and she placed a single pin in the place where the pants would be let out to.

Standing up, Y/N hoped Harry didn’t notice the blush gracing her face. She was a stylist and used to being around naked bodies as well as touching around a man’s crotch when working. But Harry in this suit must have been magic, because she had felt extremely vulnerable on her knees in front of him in it. She had felt flushed the minute he hadn’t liked what she had done initially and she hated that she felt that way for some reason. Beginning to work on the sleeves of the suit set her at ease, Y/N was thankful to no longer be kneeling or in such close proximity to what was under Harry’s pants.

“Anything on your mind of late?” Harry broke the silence.

Y/N hummed with a pin stuck between her lips, folding up the suit jacket’s right sleeve. Plucking it from her mouth after a few silent moments, she said, “Not really, haven’t had time to do much else lately. Always thinking about you,” Y/N flushed as she realized what she had just said. “I mean, thinking about you like about your clothes and when they’re going to arrive and what I need to do about them, not you personally, sorry that came out wrong,” her blush intensified as she rapidly fumbled through her last sentence.

“Ow!”

“Oh my god!”

While Y/N had gotten flustered with her words, she managed to stick the pin she was using straight into Harry’s flesh. She immediately removed the pin from where it had stuck him.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, H, we’ve got to get this off. I need to make sure you’re not bleeding onto the suit.”

Y/N rushed around to Harry's backside and began slipping off his suit jacket as Harry chuckled and began to unbutton the shirt as carefully as possible.

“‘S alright, Y/N, if there’s any blood on the shirt it’ll blend in, blood is practically the same color.” She glared at him through the mirror and Harry continued to laugh, “That is not funny, H, I shouldn’t have stuck you in the first place.”

“No, no,” Harry hushed Y/N as she began to slip off his shirt from one side to the other, taking off the sleeve on the side she hadn’t poked, “you’ve got so much on your plate with all the planning for the upcoming events. Then you worked yourself up over a little slip.” As Y/N carefully unbuttoned the cuff of the sleeve to try and slip off the shirt with the least amount of blood on it as possible, Harry finished with, “I wouldn’t mind if you were just thinking about me, though, an’ not the clothes.”

This time, Y/N was very in control, not willing to let herself slip up a second time today. She didn’t know how to respond to what Harry had just admitted. It wasn’t like this hasn't happened before. Both of them were guilty of making little comments that made it sound like they were interested in each other in a way that was a little different than professional or friendly. But every time the other person always had the responsibility to shut the idea down or completely blow past what their counter had just said.

“Harry…” She began, it was soft and pleading, like she was saying she couldn’t entertain that idea. Examining his forearm, after pulling the shirt completely away and resting it on a nearby chair, she saw a little spot of blood protruding from the pin prick she had caused. “Where do you keep your bandages?” Y/N decided that it was best to brush past Harry’s words this time and went off to find his first aid kit. Harry stood there, shirtless, staring at the blood on his arm. It really wasn’t a lot and it wouldn’t have done anything to the suit, but Y/N was always so careful and never wanted to ruin any of Harry’s clothes.

On her return, Y/N came upon a shirtless Harry perched on the edge of the table, with one arm crossed and his other - that was bleeding - being held slightly away from his body, as if Harry was afraid to touch it. His posture was slumped so Y/N could see his spine curving beneath his tanned honey-soft skin and his shoulder blades slightly flexed. While most of Harry’s body was covered in tattoos, she noticed how the closest tattoo to his back was the small line drawing of a guitar on the back of his left shoulder. Other than that his smooth back was bare. Y/N found it interesting that Harry had never chosen to ink his back. She jogged lightly back into the room and Harry’s head turned to watch her approach. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth as he regarded her. She noticed he was being particularly quiet, but she had no idea why. Maybe he was still tired.

Y/N set to work on finding the correct tissue, neosporin, and bandage for Harry’s small wound. As she worked on fixing up her mistake, Harry’s eyes followed her movements. Green eyes flickering between her hands on his arm and her own eyes focusing on her task.

“After this, I actually can just head home and finish the rest of the work,” Y/N said as she unpackaged the bandage, “I already know where I need to take in the suit sleeves and the shirt’s sleeves were looking fine. So, I can get out of your hair and you can get to sleep early tonight.” She placed the nude toned bandage over Harry’s arm, she was a little sad to find he didn’t own fun bandages. That was something that she expected from Harry, but she resigned that maybe she didn’t know everything about Harry.

Before Harry could speak, Y/N continued, “Don’t rehearsals for the show start tomorrow? When are you flying to New York?” She ran her hand over the bandage, smoothing it in place. Her hand lingered there as her eyes looked up and met Harry’s. Harry twitched his arm away from Y/N’s touch and scratched his nose slightly.

“Yeah, I’m flying out tomorrow morning. When are you set to fly out?”

“Friday. I’ll get in before the final dress rehearsal and then I’ll be there for the show.” Y/N stepped back and began to rehang the suit jacket and shirt that they had discarded in her haste to not get blood on them.

Then Y/N stood there staring at Harry. He looked at her slightly confused by her doing nothing when she said she was leaving. “Pants, H.” She said finally when she realized he had forgotten he was still wearing the suit pants. “Oh! Sorry,” Harry exclaimed as he began to unbutton and remove the pants he was wearing. He handed her the pants and she exchanged them with his live-aid t shirt. He took it graciously before slipping it on and disguising his toned body beneath it. Then he took his pants from earlier and fully redressed himself.

“Damn!” Y/N said and Harry’s head flipped to watch her as she began to put all of the clothing back in their garment bags and take down the rack.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just pinched myself with the rack, I’m all left feet today.”

“Here,” Harry chuckled as he walked over to help Y/N, “let me help you with all this. Just in the boot of your car, yeah?” Y/N nodded and smiled in appreciation for Harry. He grabbed her keys laying on the table and then took the rack and a garment bag. Even if things sometimes got tense between them, for whatever reason, he was always quick to move past it and be thoughtful and kind in the best ways for Y/N. After shaking her hand out, she grabbed the last garment bags and followed Harry out to her car. Harry shut the back of her car softly and turned to face Y/N, she stood beside her car door, ever so slightly leaning against it. He walked to her side and smiled.

“I’ll see you in a week,” he said before wrapping his arms around Y/N’s much smaller frame. His body was radiating heat and it felt good against Y/N in the crisp night air of London. She pressed into his hold and wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed him hard. “Less than...Can’t wait to see you make an absolute fool of yourself out there.” Harry protested her tease with a small, “Hey!” but mostly focused on his hands on her back and the way her hair felt especially soft under his chin. Finally, Y/N pulled away, “Kidding! You’ll be amazing and you’ll look killer while doing it.” She winked before opening her car door and driving off. Harry was left with the lingering scent of her perfume and shampoo mingling in his nose.

It was the Saturday night, November 16th, 2019.

Harry and Y/N were in his dressing room before the show started. His outfits for the night were lined up, except for his opener one that Y/N had just dressed him in. His first change would be for Light’s Up, then a couple skit outfits that had to be moved elsewhere for quick changes, then the Watermelon Sugar suit, and then finally his end of the show casual look. The opener looked incredible, it’s fit was impeccable and Y/N knew people were going to love it.

She stepped back from Harry to give his whole body a once over, the SNL hairstylist had just blown out his hair and given him a sort of middle part. It definitely looked good and paired with the suit - Y/N could already tell it was going to be a hit by all accounts. Harry grinned back at her, doing a little dance to show just how much he was loving his clothes and how excited he was.

Grabbing the lint roller, Y/N gave the lapels of his suit jacket a once over and then moved it slightly out of the way to roll the big collar of Harry’s shirt and the bits of the body of the shirt that were showing underneath the jacket. Basically, Y/N was lint rolling over Harry’s clothed abs. Apparently, that was a ticklish area for Harry because he began to squirm and giggle under the tool’s touch.

“Seriously, H?”

She smiled as she said it, so excited for Harry that she couldn’t be mad at his relestness.

“Can’t help it. ‘M so giddy. Plus, I’m a wee bit ticklish.”

Y/N gave him a single laugh before removing the lint roller and smoothing over the shirt against his stomach and then over the lapels when she put the jacket back in place. She adjusted the Gucci reader’s she was wearing today, that were more for decoration than anything, but she liked to pretend they made her see better.

“You look smashing, Mr. Styles. Absolutely gorgeous, if I do say so myself.”

“Are you talking to me or the suit?” Harry asked as he flipped to look in the full length mirror in the dressing room.

“Can’t it be both?”

“Sure,” Harry said, he noticed the clock and realized it was his time to get in places. He leaned down and placed a small kiss on Y/N’s cheek, “It’s my time, thank you, Y/N.” She blushed at his words and actions. As he walked out the door, she called after him, “Break a leg, H!” He sent a final air kiss in her direction before completely disappearing.

She looked at the clothes hanging on the rack in the room and palmed over the fabric. Checking the lapels and brushing the lint roller over the, she finally stepped back and was happy with how they looked. When the show was just about to start, she flitted to the part of backstage where she could watch Harry perform. She giggled along to his monologue and grinned whole-heartedly when the crowd would roar with approval. Y/N had heard all of the jokes already because of the dress rehearsal yesterday, but it didn’t matter. Harry was killing it. She also took time to appreciate how good Harry looked in his suit on stage. In front of the lights and all the people, his suit shined brightly with the pops of blue and yellow and the oversized grey-iege jacket. His soft chestnut hair billowed perfectly to frame his forehead as he sipped from the faux martini. Y/N bit her lip to stifle her laugh. The fact that Harry, her boss and friend, was up on the Saturday Night Live stage with pink and blue nails sipping from a faux martini, it was perfect.

When Harry came back for his first performance change Y/N was right there waiting for him.

“Hi, that was really good,” she smiled up at him as he began to take off his coat.

He smiled brightly back at her as he exhaled a hefty breath, “You think so?”

“Yes! C’mon, everyone loved it. You delivered it all perfectly…” she took over undoing the buttons on the shirt because Harry was moving too slowly. “I’m in a man band now…” Y/N mumbled under her breath before chuckling.

“Did you just imitate my accent?” Harry said, now pulling off his sleeves.

Y/N moved around his back to take the shirt to hang and grab his Lights Up outfit. They worked like a well-oiled machine together, constantly taking over roles to get things done more efficiently, but never stepping on each other’s toes.

“Nope,” she winked before handing him the black sequin jumpsuit and exchanging it for his yellow pants. After rehanging the pants and bringing over Harry’s different set of boots, Y/N said, “Y’know, I’d have to say that your hair is giving your suit a run for its money.” She placed the shoes on the table beside Harry and began to fix into the place different parts of the jumpsuit, moving to zip up the back and then coming to the front to smooth it.

“What do you mean?” Harry looked in the mirror and delicately touched the edges of his hair, considering Y/N’s statement.

“No one ever really sees it how it is, nicely blown out but not too much product so it falls to frame your face. What’d you tell the hair person you wanted?” Y/N stepped back to allow Harry to change his boots from one Gucci pair to another, like he did with most of his wardrobe.

“Just told them to make me look mature. You think it looks good?” He looked up at Y/N when he asked the question.

“Think it looks sexy, that’s what I’m saying, no one’s gonna be able to focus on your clothes with how good your hair looks.”

“Ah,” he deftly runs his hands down his suit as he looks in the mirror.

Y/N just stares at Harry, checking him over one more time. She wasn’t lying about his hair, it was sexy and she wanted to run her hands through it to feel how soft it was. In a complete friend way of course.

“I like it…”

“It looks like you just rolled out of bed, but the bed was made of angel feathers.”

Harry laughed at Y/N’s description. He shifted his body to face her more and moved closer to her in the process.

“Alright, you should probably get back out there,” Y/N closes the gap between them and adjusts the chain of his jade and silver crosses and brushes over his broad shoulders.

They’re professional touches, but her movements hold an undercurrent of intimacy that neither of them realize. If anyone had been looking on, they would see how Y/N’s fingers delicately caressed Harry’s skin right before she cradled the pendants to move them in place. They would also see Harry instinctively lean forward into her touch and breathe slightly deeper to take in her scent. When she brushes over his shoulders, he straightens up at the touch and shows he’s ready to get back out there. It’s as if she prepared him to go.

Harry sings Lights Up and the crowd loves it. Sarah kills her drumming and Mitch eats up lead guitar. The backup singers bring out a different tone to the song. It is all around an amazing performance.

As Y/N clapped along with the crowd from backstage, Aidy Bryant approaches her.

“You’re Harry’s stylist, right?”

Y/N turns her head at the woman next to her, “Yeah?”

Aidy smiles, eyes slightly gleaming, “Well, you’re wonderful at your job.” As Y/N is about to thank her, Aidy continues, “And Harry knows that too, he talked about you all week. We all thought you were his girlfriend at first.”

Y/N laughed lightly and had to keep herself from letting her jaw drop at Aidy’s words. She even choked a bit on her own spit and had to cough slightly before even being able to think of a response, “Well, um, yeah...no, H, Harry is just my employer and...friend. No dating, we just get along well. Which is important since we spend a lot of time together - for work of course!”

Aidy smiled sweetly at Y/N, “Yeah, Harry explained that when Beck asked him how long you’d been together. At first he had said a couple months and then said ‘wait, Y/N is just my stylist, we’ve been working together for a couple months’ and then we all felt really dumb.”

“Don’t feel dumb,” Y/N reassured her, unsure why she was actually continuing this conversation, “He loves to talk about clothes and that’s where I fit in to his life, so I’m sure my name would come up a fair bit. Was that it?”

“Yeah I guess, but-” Aidy began to say more, but Y/N cut her off.

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry, but Harry’s finished and I’ve got to go help him change for his next song.”

Aidy was left in Y/N’s wake, chuckling to herself, fully reassured about the reason that they had all thought Harry had been dating Y/N. Because they already acted like a couple. And they were both helplessly in love with one another and neither of them knew.

The rest of the show went off without a hitch. Harry continued to wow the crowd and Y/N sent him off from his dressing room always looking fabulous. Just as he was about to walk back on stage for his final farewell, Y/N noticed a tiny string on his trousers zipper. Unable to stop Harry and unable to grab at the string without looking odd, she had to let him walk on stage with it. It wasn’t actually a big deal, but Y/N sighed in annoyance because she knew that string was going to bug her for the rest of the night.

“Treat People With Kindness!” Harry finishes off his farewell.

Applause begins to sound and the cast is out front hugging and chatting, while Y/N is watching from the side still fixated on the string on Harry’s pants, now simply dangling. Finally, they begin to clear the stage because it’s time for the after party. Y/N knew there was no stealing Harry away to fix the problem that was now fixated in her mind. Every cast and crew member was trying to talk to him, congratulating him, hugging him, anything to spend time with the incredible man. Y/N couldn’t blame them, but she also wanted to be able to go some place quiet and debrief with Harry about his outfits. She wanted to look up what people were saying about his clothes and discuss the critiques with Harry. She also wanted to start discussing what was coming next with Harry. But most of all, she just wanted to hang out with Harry.

What Y/N wanted wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, which she knew, but it still only grew her annoyance with that string. If only she could get it off of him, maybe then her mind would be able to relax a little.

She meandered backstage, resigned she wouldn’t be talking to Harry for a while. There she went to find the band’s dressing room, knowing she would find Mitch or Sarah who she’d be happy to talk to. They weren’t ones for the spotlight and no one ever really seemed to want to brownnose with them at events like this. Y/N had met them a few times.

The first was when Harry had asked Y/N to meet him in the studio in mid July, Mitch and Sarah had both been there helping Harry finish up something for the album. Y/N never asked what, she liked music quite a bit, but when it came to the technical part of it, it went completely over her head. Harry had introduced them both and they seemed lovely. After that, she had seen them around for an event or two of Harry’s. It wasn’t much, but it was more than any of the other people around right now.

Just as she was about to knock on the door it swung open, revealing Harry’s entire backing band. “Hey,” Y/N said sheepishly, “Harry’s being fawned over by the masses and I don’t actually know anyone else here. Is it alright if I hang out with you all at this after party? I doubt there’s going to be anyone really dying to meet the stylist.”

She smoothed her own clothes as she spoke. Y/N wanted to look professional tonight because sometimes when she was dressed in more fun or “young” clothes she got mistaken for someone who had snuck in. The only thing that got people to not question her authority to be where she was, was a card that read ‘staff’ that she would clip onto whatever she was wearing at places like this. Tonight, she chose a pair of purple plaid pants, a sleek lilac tank underneath a cream knit shawl, and cream Gucci mules. Ever since Harry took an interest in Y/N’s pearl necklace, she had largely stopped wearing hers because she hoped never to be photographed matching with him. However, she had known the pearls would have completed the look, even putting them on in her hotel room, twisting a pearl in her hand as she looked in the mirror, and then taking the necklace off again and settling on a different silver necklace instead. The ‘staff’ card was clipped to her pants pocket tonight.

“Of course!” Sarah said as the band began to file out of the room, “You might want to take your tag off now, though, you’re done working for the night.”

Her laughter rang sweetly through Y/N’s ears and she smiled back before removing her identifying card. She hated the piece of plastic and was glad to take it off, it never went with her outfits, but she had gotten tired of taking out her business card every time someone asked what she was doing. Y/N was sure that during the tour she’d be fine without it, but as Harry’s show appearances were beginning to ramp up she knew it would be helpful to have.

“Thanks...you all were amazing out there tonight. Second time on the SNL stage right?”

The group of you began to walk in the direction of where the after party was being held. Mitch piped up, “Thanks. Yeah, I love their box stage setup, it’s pretty cool.” Y/N was happy that she had people who were easy to talk to so that she wouldn’t be alone tonight.

Arriving in the room of the party, they were all quick to grab the alcohol that was being provided at the pop up bar. Y/N wasn’t normally a fan of drinking at events like these, mainly because she was not usually invited to this part of the night and when she was she wanted to be alert. But she figured there wasn’t much else to do so she took a hearty sip of the champagne. It was a little sweet, her face scrunched.

“Too sweet?” Mitch questioned when he saw Y/N’s face.

“Just a little for my taste.”

“Harry’s not going to be drinking tonight then. So particular about his alcohol,” Mitch continued.

Y/N laughed, “Well I’m glad, then I don’t have to deal with him being a baby about his hangover tomorrow.”

Mitch quirked an eyebrow at Y/N’s statement. Sarah and the others in the band had dispersed to mingle with the SNL party goers, leaving Mitch and Y/N to their conversation.

Realizing what she said could be seen as slightly weird out of context, Y/N quickly started again, “because I’m supposed to go shopping with Harry tomorrow. He wanted to go to Gucci and a couple other stores here before flying to LA. I’m going back to London until the listening parties, so we need to figure out the finishing touches for those and..” Y/N trailed off trying to remember which looks weren’t completed yet for the next few shows, Mitch waited patiently, “a few of the suits for the Late Late Show. He’s not happy with one of them so we might switch it. But anyway, you know how he is with a hangover. Proper child.”

Mitch threw his head back in laughter at Y/N’s serious look that she gave him. “Yeah, he can be...a lot. I meant to tell you, Harry looked great tonight. All of the clothes were fantastic,” Mitch added.

He was kind and Y/N appreciated him sticking with her. The two of them had rested themselves against a wall near the bar, sipping their champagne and enjoying each other’s company.

“Thank you.”

Mitch opened his mouth to say something else, but Heidi Gardener, another SNL member interrupted.

“Y/N, right!?”

Y/N and Mitch both turn to her, equally taken aback by the sudden burst of energy from this person they didn’t really know. Y/N nodded.

“Oh my gosh! You have to tell me where you got the jacket Harry is wearing!”

Heidi even goes as far to point in Harry’s direction. Y/N knows what she’s talking about, but her eyes still wander to where she pointed. Harry stood in a clump of people, surrounded by Ben Winston, James Corden, and the Gerbers who had all come to watch. She sighed as she watched his eyes shine as he laughed with a smile on his face. She hoped that by now the string had fallen off his pants by now, if not she was going to kick herself later.

“Oh, it’s Bode,” Y/N’s eyes coming back to meet Heidi’s happy face, “but it’s custom made from a vintage blanket. There’s only two that exist.”

Y/N and Mitch watched as Heidi’s face dropped.

“And I’m pretty sure the designer owns the other one,” Y/N added, “Sorry.”

Heidi smiles and jokes, “Know any ways I could possibly get Harry to give me his?”

“He loves that coat. I have no idea what you could possibly do to convince him he didn’t need it anymore.”

“Sex, probably,” Mitch says under his breath.

Heidi doesn’t catch it as she walks back off and Y/N turns to swat him with her free hand.

“What? He always gives away his clothes to girl’s he has crushes on.” Y/N rolls her eyes at Mitch’s words.

“Probably best if you don’t inform the masses about that,” a new voice says.

Unbeknownst to Mitch and Y/N, Harry had broken away from his entourage to steal a few minutes with his two friends, his best friends if he was being honest. They laugh together as he wraps his arms around their shoulders and pulls them both into his chest. Y/N feels the warmth radiating from Harry’s body as she snuggles into his side. Her hand wraps under his jacket and around his waist to squeeze right about his hip bone. His face is gleaming with a small sheen of sweat, but his smile is so big she barely notices his perspiration as he looks down at her.

“Heard you were talkin’ shit?”

Mitch quips, “Us? Never.”

Harry scoffs, “Come off it!”

When he releases Y/N and Mitch from his grasp, Mitch straightens up while Y/N’s eyes immediately go down to Harry’s crotch. She’s not paying attention to their conversation as she tries to make out in the dim light whether the string is gone or not. The men realize she’s not listening and they both follow her gaze.

Confused, Harry asks, “Y/N, any particular reason you’re staring at my dick?”

Her head shoots up, eyes wide and cheeks flushed from embarrassment.

“I wasn’t!”

Mitch laughs and decides he wants another glass of champagne right then, mumbling something about how that was his cue. Harry smiles, knowing she wasn’t doing what he had said, but still intrigued to know what was going on in her mind.

“You had a string right on your zipper and it’s been bugging me since you went out for your outro. This is the first time I’ve seen you on your own and I couldn't exactly go up to you in a random crowd and grab at your crotch. But now I can’t see in this light…” Y/N bit at her lower lip and furrowed her brow still trying to see if the string was there.

“Have you really been thinking about it this whole time?” Harry asked, slightly concerned.

“Yes...I know it doesn’t matter, but I just want your clothes to look perfect.”

Harry takes a deep breath as he makes a small smile at Y/N. Then he brushes over the front of his pants, hoping he removes the string if it's still attached to him. “There, I’m sure it’s gone now. I’m sorry you had to worry about that. Just know everyone I’ve talked to has been raving about the clothes.” He placed his ring-clad hand on Y/N’s upper arm and squeezed it.

“You did an amazing job,” Y/N said.

Harry pulls her into his chest one more time. This time without Mitch so both of Harry’s arms go around her shoulders and both of hers go around his slender waist. Again her hands disappear under his coat and thumb over his warm white t-shirt, her face resting on his chest right next to the word ‘Sex’. His arms tighten around her back as they rest there for a while. Y/N always has to make herself pull away, knowing that Harry will stay there for as long as he can - in anyone’s embrace - and remembering they’re in a public setting, she didn’t want anyone to assume things, even if she had already been made aware that people had.

“We’ll debrief more later tonight, yeah? The champagne is terrible so I won’t be drinking,” Harry said.

Y/N laughed under her breath as she smiled at his words. Mitch and her knew Harry too well. She nodded about getting together later, “Alright. Get back to your fan club.” Harry narrowed her eyes at her words, not sure if she was trying to sound sarcastic or not.

Hey, I’m back at the hotel. Just let me know when you want to debrief :) x

Y/N texted Harry the minute she got back to the hotel, she had no idea if he had left before her or was still at the after party. All she knew was that it was late and she was starting to get tired. Still, it was important for them to talk about their plans for tomorrow and she also really wanted to just be with him alone. Whenever they would debrief after big events Harry and Y/N would laugh at all the outrageous stuff they had seen go on throughout the night.

When she was still a freelance stylist she had helped Harry to plan his Camp outfit at the Met Gala. That night, they never even went to bed and had to debrief about the clothes the next afternoon over tea at the Palace. Both her and Harry were recovering from their exhaustion and nursing equally terrible hangovers. But there they were, sitting in the center of the dining area of the hotel, being served some of the nicest tea and sandwiches Y/N had ever had. It was amazing. Y/N had never felt that rich in her life before and Harry had told her the craziest stories about the most famous people in attendance. It was almost unbelievable what these people would reveal to Harry and Y/N was happy to listen to all of it, promising to never tell anyone else. That outing was probably the first time Harry realized he really liked Y/N and wanted to work more closely with her.

While tonight wasn’t quite as wild as the Met Gala had been, Y/N was still excited to hear any funny stories Harry might have in addition to their clothing talk. They really hadn’t had much time to chat since she had gotten to New York yesterday so it would be nice to just be alone together. Even if Y/N chalked their debriefs up to ‘shop talk’, she was always very excited for them.

As she reached her hotel room door, her phone buzzed with a message from Harry.

I’m still out, but should be heading back soon. Up to you if you want to wait up or we can just debrief in the morning while we shop. x H

Y/N sighed at the message, she wanted to wait up and debrief before tomorrow, if not for alone time with Harry but professionally for being able to plan out their shopping tomorrow. Where Harry was carefree, Y/N was meticulous and planned out. She liked to have fun, but she knew when she had to get her work done, even when Harry was off in his own mind. Their work styles mostly coincided, Harry could be serious and focused, too, but often when he was surrounded by all his famous friends he had a hard time saying ‘no’ to whatever came up. So Y/N knew that Harry’s definition of ‘soon’ could range from actually soon to almost dawn. She really hoped he actually meant soon, so she shot him a text saying:

Just knock on my room and if I open it we can debrief lol x

Harry smiled down at his phone when Y/N’s text came through, slightly chuckling before double tapping and placing a heart reaction of her text. Then he was pulled into the limo that one of his friend’s had gotten them and was handed a flute of champagne.

Back at the hotel, Y/N threw her phone on the bed and decided to change and simply settle in for the night. If Harry made it back, he made it back and if he didn’t she’d wake up well rested.

Maybe thirty minutes into scrolling on her phone, Y/N heard a rough knock on her door. She was actually quite surprised that Harry had indeed been back soon. Rising from her snuggled place in the bed, she shifted around her night clothes and padded to her door. There stood, rather hung, a slightly disheveled Harry. His hair was whipped into disaster, something was smudged on his face, and she noticed a stain on his t-shirt that hadn’t been there the last time she’d been with him.

He slurred her name as he stumbled through the doorway. Y/N closed her eyes and sighed in exasperation. She was in awe that somehow Harry hadn’t gotten off his ass in the past hour and a half.

“What happened to not drinking tonight?”

She walked beside him and helped shove him into a sitting position on her bed. He flapped his arms, chaotically trying to get his plaid jacket off. Throwing her phone in the direction of her pillow, she moved to help Harry with his jacket. After quite a bit of strugglings, Y/N finally got the Bode jacket off of him successfully and threw it onto the nearby chair. Sighing, she settled beside him.

“So, Harry, care to explain?”

“Hi, Y/N…” He swayed slightly, attempting to face Y/N more. She threw out a hand to his shoulder, gripping him tightly to try and steady him.

“We went in this limousine, and they had champagne - good champagne - and I drank a bottle or so pretty quickly.”

“Or so? Oh Harry...I mean you’re free to make your own choices, but I don’t know if this was one of your best.”

“Wasn’t...wasn’t my idea. I was planning on just going back to the hotel. Then James convinced me to come out for a bit. Then the champagne was looking good so I went for it.”

“Like I said, you can make your own choices,” she patted his arm and went to the en suite bathroom to wet a washcloth to clean off his face.

“So, is it champagne on your shirt or am I going to have to go through hell to get the stain out?” She called.

Harry groaned and leaned back on the bed, fingering at the crisp white sheets. “Champagne,” he finally muttered as Y/N reappeared into the dim room, only the outside world and the light in the bathroom lighting this area.

“And on the face?”

She climbed onto the bed and kneeled beside Harry’s prone body, beginning to swipe at the smudge on his face. He tilted his head to face her, bringing the cheek with the dirt to lay facing perfectly up. His jawline showed perfectly and she felt the strength that laid beneath the skin she was washing.

His eyes flitted up to her face, trying to stop the spins he was currently experiencing. He hadn’t thought he was that drunk until he had been required to find his way up to their floor on his own.

“Lipstick?”

She sighed, running the washcloth over his cheek once more, and tried to push the image of some woman (or man who wore lipstick, she guessed) with her lips all over Harry’s face. She didn’t want to know who it was or why it was. It was too hard, especially after the day of people asking her about Harry and her relationship and insinuating things about him and his romantic life. She just liked to keep the words Harry and romance apart as much as possible, it made her life easier that way.

“It was only from-”

“It’s ok, Harry, I don’t need to know who you were…” She stopped herself, not even wanting to say ‘kissing’ or ‘snogging’ or even worse ‘shagging’. Adults were human beings and they could do a lot in an hour and a half. And again, she didn’t want to know.

“You keep doing that. Are you mad at me?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Calling me Harry, not ‘H’. Is it because you’re mad at me?”

“No,” she sighed, shifting to sit more casually, “No, I’m not mad at you. I just wasn’t expecting you to show up at my door like this. I try not to worry about you, but then when you show up like this, it kind of affirms I had reason to be concerned.”

She took a hand and smoothed over Harry’s tousled hair, he rolled his head back to face the ceiling. “Like I said, you’re an adult, capable of making his own decisions. And, I am just your stylist. I’m just glad you made it up here and knocked on my door. Probably would have given someone else a fright.”

He laughed, starting to sober up as the spinning in the room stopped. Her hands on his face and hair were soothing and sobering.

“Thank you for caring about me, love. And going beyond being just my stylist, you’re my friend Y/N.”

His eyes flickered shut and Y/N stared at his soothed features. His words were still slurred and she was sure the use of love was just his britishness slipping through his drunken state. The part about being more than a stylist, she tried to push it away, telling herself not to read more into it than her heart would like to. Even though he said she was a friend as well as a stylist and not anything more, it still sent so much joy through her body. He didn’t just see her as a work colleague and he had said it. But in his inebriated state, Y/N didn’t want to take everything he said as gospel.

She moved him up the bed with a little bit of his sleepy self’s help into a more comfortable position. It was pretty late now and she wasn’t going to kick him out. It would have been rude and unkind and that were two things Y/N rarely was. She went and grabbed the extra blanket from the cabinet and draped it over Harry’s large body for extra warmth since he refused to get under the covers. She also slipped off his boots and stained shirt per his request before getting into the other side of the bed and falling asleep.

She awoke to a shifting body beside her and she sat up confused as to who it could be. Quickly, Harry showing up drunk at her door came flooding back and she turned to look at the groaning Harry beside her. His arm was thrown over his face as he moaned, just waking up as well and experiencing the first bits of his hangover. This was going to be a long day.

“Hullo,” his voice was especially low, groggy and hoarse from the night before. He peaked over at her from behind the crook of his elbow. His eyelids barely open and his eyelashes weighing them down so much so that she could barely see his sleepy jade eyes.

“Good morning, H. Have a nice rest?” Y/N sat up and began to ready herself for the day, rummaging through her suitcase for an outfit and moving about the room.

Harry’s arms went to his sides as he worked to sit up, eyes following her figure as she moved around, seemingly not groggy very much unlike him. “Erm...I’m sorry for showing up pissed.”

“S’fine, H. Just glad you didn’t end up in a ditch or someone’s bed - someone’s that you might regret…” She barely regards him, throwing a single glance his way before shuffling to the bathroom to change. She knows they’ll be photographed today, it’s almost inevitable right now. Everyone knows Harry is in New York and people are buzzing to see him after his performance last night. She slips on the 70s inspired dress, the v-neck and long sleeves settling perfectly on her frame, it hugs her curves and lands around mid-thigh. Rolling on the bold mustard yellow tights and strapping up the brown leather mary jane heels, she looks herself over in the mirror. She then tries to tame her hair and do the rest of her routine, knowing she needed to get on with the day, shopping first and flying home second. Making sure Harry was okay was also on that list, but she couldn’t pretend like she wasn’t a little disappointed in him after last night.

When she returns, Harry is sitting with his legs hanging off the edge of the bed, head hanging as he’s hunched over himself. “C’mon, you gotta get going, kid. Lots to do today.” She’s pacing over to Harry’s deflated figure to pick him up and prompt him to get moving. When she arrives by his side his head lifts and his now more awake eyes stare up at her.

“I’m sorry for yesterday, really. I mean it.”

“I told you already. It’s fine.”

“It’s not - or it wasn’t. You called me ‘Harry’ last night. I don’t think I’ve heard you call me that to my face since we started working together. I took your answer last night because I was swimming in it, but now, thinking about it. I know you were upset.”

She huffs, taking a seat beside Harry on the bed, choosing to not look at him, slightly confused why she had been so upset and why he was pushing it. “Ok, yeah I was annoyed, but I was also genuinely worried. I didn’t know you could physically get that drunk in that small amount of time. And then you show up at my door with somebody else’s…” Y/N falters, catching her slip up and deciding to fix her gaze on her shoes and their intricate design built into the leather.

“You’re upset that I had lipstick on me?” He’s trying to meet Y/N’s gaze, but her eyes are really interested in her shoes. His tone is confused, he’s trying to understand what’s going on in her mind.

She scoffs, risking a glance to Harry but then returns quickly back to her dress this time. “Please...it was just inconvenient for me, okay? Thought we were going to debrief and stayed up late for you. Then I had to take care of you after you hung out with your famous pals and I had barely even seen you all day. Felt a bit used.”

Harry shifted in the bed, turning to face her by tucking one leg beneath him. He places a hand on hers that was placed on the end of her dress. Her eyes finally meet with his and she feels her breath slightly catch in her throat. His eyes are piercing, his gaze intense, maybe even a tinge of anger. “Y/N, I would never have come to your room if I even had an inkling that this would be how you’d interpret it . Even though I was drunk, I wanted to see you, that’s why I came up here, because I wanted to be with my friend, one of my best friends, not because I just needed some pushover to care for me.”

She sighs, feeling icky still about the whole situation. She sometimes found herself in fights that she never intended, she wished she hadn’t said anything at all. But she also knew that wasn’t healthy either. Flipping her hand, she intertwines her fingers with Harry’s and smiles for the first time that morning. His expression softens at it. “Look, I’m sorry too, H. It honestly wasn’t that big of a deal, but I appreciate that you’re such a great guy and boss to want to truly apologize and make sure I’m comfortable and happy… Oh, and I promise I’ll never call you anything but H from here on out - unless you tell me otherwise.”

He cackles unabashedly at her words, before suddenly clutching at his temple with his free hand. “Fuckin’ hangover,” he mumbles. She smiles and stands up, beginning to throw his shirt and shoes from the end of the bed at him, “You need to get ready. Go pop some advil or whatever. My flights at 5 so we haven’t got all day, H.”

“There she is,” Harry grins, beginning to put back on the stained ‘Sex’ shirt.

As he hustles out of the room, shoes in hand, she calls to him one last request, “When you’re in fresh clothes make sure you bring me that stained shirt. Gonna have to spot clean it when I’m back in London!”

“Of course! And we’ll debrief as we shop, yeah?”

“Yes!”

The two of them were shouting to each other as the door continued to close on them. Chuckling to herself, she begins to pack up her room, knowing she had to check out before they left. Her spirits already lifted, she doesn’t even notice as she throws Harry’s forgotten Bode jacket into her suitcase with some other items that had been on her chair. She wouldn’t notice it until she was back in London unpacking from the trip.

Shutting the case, she springs back up from her crouched position and walks to look in the full length mirror again. Her fingers run the length of her dress, leafing over the slightly darker brown embroidered flowers that were woven into the tan fabric. She squints as she turns sideways and pops a heel up behind her. It looks good, but something is missing. Rummaging through her carry-on she pulls out her old butterfly bandana she used as a head scarf and begins to fix it into place on her head. Placing large sunglasses on the bridge of her nose, she feels like the look is complete and gives herself some poses in the mirror; a peace sign, an air kiss, a Marilyn Monroe. She laughs at herself.

A knock on the door shakes her from her childish fun. Straightening up, Y/N saunters over to the door, swinging it open with ease. “H?”

“You ready?” Harry stands in a fresh pair of Marni trousers paired with a striped orange and mauve Marni sweater. He, like Y/N, had this thing about wearing the brand you planned to shop at. He didn’t always stick to his rule, but he usually didn’t like to wear Gucci when he shopped at Gucci.

“Yeah, just need to check out and drop my baggage at the front to be held for later.” Y/N slips through the door and notes how his outfit compliments hers. She wouldn’t mention it, but it's something to think about since he had known what she was wearing. She wasn’t sure why she noticed things like that, if asked, her answer would probably be that it was the stylist in her, just her job.

Stepping out of a black town car on the side street next to Gucci to go in the side entrance would never get old for Y/N. She had never really enjoyed the idea of fame, but from a young age she had known she wanted to be able to afford the finer things in life. Going into the Gucci store now, especially with Harry, was like going to the candy store once you’re a grown up and can buy whatever you want rather than what your parents will allow you to.

Today, Harry and Y/N didn’t have as much time as they would usually like to spend in the store, but they were just happy to be doing what they loved. Y/N had been ecstatic to find out Harry found shopping to be an essential part of his life and that he liked to do his outfit shopping in person rather than online. Trying on clothes and picking out things you liked just was so much more fulfilling when you were in the physical store. Then make that all happen with Harry Styles as the buyer, then it was a real party. The stores liked to pull out their Champagne and clear the store to allow him privacy, specifically when it was for clothes for projects under wraps. In the beginning of her employment, it was only ever Harry who would do the trying on of clothes, but as the two of them got acquainted and comfortable with each other, she found herself trying things Harry would pick out for her. At first, she would veto some items saying they were too expensive for her, but eventually she learned that her new salary covered whatever it was. She had always enjoyed designer labels and choosing to be a stylist meant she had nice clothes, but only working for Harry had caused her closet to double in size and triple in value.

“So we are looking for some trousers today,” she tells the worker at the store, reminding them of what she had already called ahead about. The employee nods and proceeds to lead them into the room where they had laid out an assortment of pants for Harry to pick from.

“What do you think of these?” Harry walks out and strikes a pose, popping one of his hips to the side and his hands on his hips. The pants strain around his thighs, but fit practically perfectly everywhere else. His slim waist is perfectly encircled by the fabric and he’s decided the sweater he was wearing didn’t match them and he’d rather go shirtless. This choice technically should allow her to solely focus on the pants, but it actually makes her focus that much more diverted. She makes a spinning motion with her pointer finger as she purses her lips. He takes a quick spin and the boot cut slightly flares with his movement. The pants are a dark brown with a single plaid crossing in a lighter brown. They are only lightly flared, which she prefered to the extreme flare that some of Harry’s suits had. She narrows her eyes at the pants to keep her gaze from shifting to the taut muscles of Harry’s arms and torso or the dark ink that licked over his skin in the beautiful designs of his choice.

“They’re nice,” she pulls up a picture of the top part of the outfit he was planning on wearing, “Do you think they match with this though?” Harry walks over to her seated position and bends to look at her phone. His skin radiates heat and the smell of his cologne and she sniffles slightly with her sensitive nose. His eyes flicker to her face when he notices her little noise, but returns to looking at the phone when she doesn’t spare him a glance. She felt his gaze on her, but couldn’t bring herself to look from the phone. She knew his proximity would make it even harder for her to keep her eyes off his naked torso. The expensive smell of Harry mixed with the expensive smell of the store was a lot to handle.

“Yeah...no. You think they’re not right,” she widens her eyes at Harry’s words when he pulls away. He turns to the mirror in the open dressing room and fiddles with the waistline of the pants. “I agree,” he finishes before stalking back into the room and shutting the heavy velvet curtain that worked as the door to it.

He tries on five more pairs of trousers and finally settles on two pairs for the two different listening parties. A heavier, wool-tweed pair that was dark brown and then a lighter brown tweed pair. He was still in the lighter pants as he stared into the mirror. He beckoned to Y/N, and she quickly set down the flute of Champagne she had been sipping at lazily as he admired himself.

“Is it possible for you to take it in a bit more,” he says in a hushed tone to her, not wanting the workers to overhear. They were helpful but if they overheard they would wait for the store to tailor the trousers and he preferred for Y/N to do it. He rubs at the waistline again and she moves closer, her hands going to his sides. Her fingertips graze the naked skin above the trousers and Harry shivers at the coldness of the new touch. She ghosts softly over the waistline herself and smooths the fabric until she’s pinching a small amount on each side. She hums, pulling back from Harry and looking at the fit of them now, examining whether that makes them look better.

Then she nods and smiles up at Harry, “Ever the slender waist,” he grins right back as she admires him. She knew how much he liked praise and she was happy to give it to him, especially when he was so deserving. “I’d say size down, but then your thighs and bum might strain the fabric too much.” His face turns to a smirk as she blushes at her words. She releases the fabric and takes a hand to pat Harry’s smooth chest before walking back to her seat on the lovely couch.

“You sure you don’t want to try anything on, Y/N? Saw some killer boots when we walked in that screamed you.” Harry calls from behind the curtain, presumably getting redressed. Her laugh comes through the curtain slightly muffled, yet still a sweet melody in Harry’s ears.

“Definitely not now, we’re leaving any minute. Plus, I’ve got plenty of Gucci boots, don’t even show me them or I’ll be tempted.”

His laughter rings through the curtains, loud and unrestrained. She smiles to herself, unable to discourage the pleasure that weaves through her at the sound. His presence in all the different ways she experienced it was instantly comforting.

When she arrives back to her London flat, she practically flops on her couch once she’s inside the door. Her luggage forgotten at the door, as she shrugs off her coat. It was around 7 am because she had chosen to take the red eye for some reason. She groaned as she thought about the day ahead of her. Even though Harry was halfway across the globe, she still had plenty of work to do. She had to finalize the outfits for the listening parties now that they had the pants to complete the looks. Then she had to start thinking about Harry’s December appearances. She had sent ahead his Late Late outfits that he had needed in Los Angeles for the pre-filming, but she still had to deal with the outfits for the live part of the show.

Today, she was set to go pick up the other pieces needed for the listening parties as well as items for the Graham Norton Show and Jingle Ball. She was most excited for her travels because that meant looking at brand new clothes that were perfect and gorgeous. She also knew she needed to spot clean Harry’s shirt, which didn’t spark as much joy in her tired mind.

The idea of the shirt staining with alcohol was what brought her out of her snuggling with her comfy couch. Sure, it couldn’t get that bad, but still she was a worrier and it would pain her if the iconic shirt got ruined. She padded back over to her luggage, now without her jacket or shoes. Her major suitcase got flipped on its side and she began to unzip it. It came open easily seeing as it was stuffed with her clothes and various items. She had to rummage a minute for Harry’s shirt that seemed to have run away inside the bag. Finally, the large white shirt made itself known and she grasped it happily.

As she looked over the stain near the collar of the shirt, her eyes traveled to a piece of fabric peeking out of her suitcase. It was a familiar blue, cream and white. A specific fabric she would never misplace, would never not recognize. Harry’s plaid Bode jacket. It was iconic and she loved it, but why did she have it in her suitcase. She definitely didn’t mean to have it, it’s genuinely just one of Harry’s jackets so it wouldn’t make sense for her to bring it back with the show's wardrobe. She tries to think back to yesterday, when she was still in New York. Thinking about why she would have it, she places the memories of Harry coming to her room, taking off his coat, and accidentally leaving it in her room all fit together. She must have just absentmindedly placed it in her suitcase without even realizing. She’s sure Harry wouldn’t mind, she’d shoot him a text, though, to tell him she had it. So he wouldn’t worry about whether he’d lost it or not.

When she gets ready for the day, she finds herself being drawn to blue and cream. Her outfit is understated and she just knows the jacket would finish the look. She loved that jacket and now that she had it, would it be a big deal if she wore it out. She figured it was fine. After she grabbed her purse, keys, and other essentials, she slipped on the coat. Harry was very broad shouldered and it hung oversized on her. She loved the look and snapped a selfie in the mirror before she headed out. While it felt a little narcissistic to constantly take photos of herself, she felt like as a stylist it was important to document her looks just as much as she documented her clients.

What she didn’t think about is just how much the rest of the world liked to document her client and those who were seen with her client. She didn’t think about how she had just been seen with Harry yesterday. That thought didn’t even cross her mind as she walked around the streets of London picking up her work. As she saw some photographers out and about (whom she assumed were for famous celebrities, not her). How it might seem with her wearing the Bode jacket Harry had worn on SNL two nights ago. The Bode jacket that there were only two of.

None of it crossed her mind. Not until it was the end of the day and she had a whole slew of texts from Harry’s manager. A few from Harry, and others but the other fifteen were solely from Jeff. She was a bad texter so as she walked into her flat and finally looked at her phone after putting down all of her garment bags her eyes went wide.

Please tell me you’re not out in London right now!

What are you wearing??

That cannot be Harry’s jacket Y/N

Seriously?

Please call me.

CALL ME. NOW.

- All from Jeff.

She grimaced. The others from her friends including Harry would have to be ignored right now. Even if Harry was her boss, Jeff was who she had to deal with when it came to public appearances and it didn’t seem like she could get around this one. Normally, she never had to deal with him, but it seems today wasn’t normal.

part 2

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mydisenchantedeulogy · 2 years

Text

Live a Little [Part Seven] Promises [Billy Hargrove]

A/n: this is the final chapter before I start the sequel which delves into season 3. I plan to start the sequel before the summer of 1985, however.

Also, in chapter four I made an error. I said the dance was in September but the Snow Ball is in December. It has been corrected. And because Billy and the reader are technically minors in book one - he's 17 in season 2 - there is no explicit sexual content, only mentions of it. Season 3 however is a whole other ball game, so get ready.

Thank you for supporting the story and I hope you continue to read on through the sequel.

Tag list: @boomhauer

If you want to join the tag list for the sequel please let me know.

December 15th

You take one last curious look at your image in the mirror, pleased with the ending results, despite looking worn out. It's been a long week.

To keep busy, you volunteered to decorate the middle school gymnasium for the dance. It occupied a lot of your time, but you were grateful for it. And the results had been worth the effort.

At least you hope.

A sudden knock on your door yanks you from your thoughts as your brother pokes in his head. It's a good thing you are dressed already. He's ready to go, and once he sees you sitting in front of your mirror with a brush in your hand, he narrows his eyes.

"Are you not done yet?" He asks in disbelief. "We're already late."

You turn up your eyes. Whose fault is that? Your brother takes longer to get dressed than you do. Not to mention, you had chores to do; his chores too.

"Don't forget that I have to drive you there. I can easily lose track of time, or take a scenic route to the next town."

He groans and shuts the door in annoyance. He's a handful sometimes.

You snort and adjust your clothing; an outfit Robin let you borrow. Normally you don't go out of your way to impress, but tonight you are chaperoning and you want to look good. For no one in particular; just you for once. You are mostly eager to see your hard work in action; the balloons were a pain and the Snow Ball sign nearly fell on you once.

Leaving your room, you walk into the living room where your family is waiting.

Your mom, who is under oath not to bring out the camera, smiles as she sees you.

"You look gorgeous, hon."

"I thought I might as well try anyway," you mention, thanking her.

Your brother scoffs.

"It's not even your night. And Michelle is going to dance with someone else because you had to make us late."

"Behave," your father warns.

You ignore the little brat. It's understandable; he's eager to profess his feelings to the girl he likes.

"Come on then. Best not keep Michelle waiting," you tease.

Your brother hops up from the couch and races towards the door, not even bothered by your jab. In the meantime, you say goodbye to your parents and retrieve the keys from the hook in the kitchen. Leaving the house, you get into the truck and start the engine. Your brother turns on the radio as you pull onto the main road heading towards town.

Shout plays quietly in the background.

"So, Michelle. What is she like?" You ask, attempting to start a conversation.

"She's nice," your brother merely answers.

You hum.

"Are you going to kiss her tonight? There is still time to drive home and pick up the camera if you want a keepsake."

He tosses a heated look at you.

"That's none of your business."

"Relax kiddo. It was only a joke," you retort with a laugh.

There is nothing wrong with wanting to kiss someone and at his age it's understandable. Besides, it serves him right for rushing you. He's too fun to tease.

"Are you and Camaro Guy going to get back together?" He asks in a mocking tone. "He might have even let me drive his car, but no, you broke up with the only cool guy you've ever dated."

OK, low blow. You roll your eyes. There is no way Billy would ever let him drive the Camaro. The fact he let you was a miracle, and you still don't understand why.

"It's been a month," you mention. "I'm sure he's moved on."

Besides, it's not like there was anything lasting between the two of you; not like you had thought. Billy made it clear by taking no action to save the relationship when you had broken it off. And why? Because he didn't want to admit there was an actual reason he wanted to date you; the I don't have to have a reason was utter bull. And perhaps it was dumb on your part to hang the balance of your relationship with him on one little question, but you didn't want to be just a one-time thing with him; that's what it felt like when he didn't give you a straight answer. But it's expected because you never considered the fact you might want to be his.

All those thoughts had come crashing down on you after the breakup.

The afternoon he had driven you home was the last time you had spoken to him. At school Tommy and Carol had begun to ignore you – no big loss there – and Billy acted as if you had never existed. Though, it wasn't like you had gone out of your way to talk to him either.

It hurt, but it was to be expected. For a while, it even felt like a mistake.

So, you had spent a month leading up to the dance focusing on yourself and your grades. And whenever you passed him in the hall, you simply averted your eyes and moved on.

Easy peasy.

Except it isn't; not all of the time. Thinking about him now makes your eyes tear up.

"I've moved on," you lie, attempting to assure yourself.

It's something you have to do now. Robin had made you see that turning him into an evil villain only buried your true thoughts about him. There is no Billy is at fault anymore; there is only we.

We are at fault. We broke up because neither of us was real with one another.

And no, you don't mean cancer; you mean the fact you cared for him more than you should in such a short time. And that you had wanted to help him get better; a pipe dream in your opinion. Seeing him every day is not easy, but you try to ignore the urge to confront him, perhaps in fear that you might cave and tell him.

You even went as far as asking Robin to teach you the trumpet, but honestly, you have no talent.

Turning up the radio, you groan as I Want to Know What Love Is comes on. The universe is making a joke at your expense; how thoughtful.

Once you pull into the lot at the school, you shut down the engine in relief. Your brother unbuckles and hops down from the truck leaving the door open. In annoyance, you get out and slam it shut. At least he made it at all. You take a moment to compose yourself and adjust your clothing, then you walk into the side door leading to the gym to sign in with Mr. Clarke.

Walking through the main entrance and beneath the balloon arch, you had helped put together, your eyes widen. There are so many students here; you can't believe it. And the decorations look gorgeous; it's magical; a sea of silver, white, and blue. The colors of winter.

But what now? You walk over to the bleachers nearly hidden behind a curtain of tinsel and see Nancy Wheeler sitting alone. She looks crestfallen, but once she notices you, her eyes widen and she motions you over.

"I thought I was the only high schooler here who volunteered to chaperone," she mentions.

It's strange talking to her, given that you aren't close, but she chats plenty enough in class for this situation not to feel so awkward.

"For a minute, so did I," you retort in relief.

Sitting down beside her, you look around in awe.

"It's unbelievable."

You don't remember anyone putting so much effort into the décor for the Snow Ball when you were in middle school.

"The decorating committee did an amazing job. Jonathan has so many pictures," Nancy brings up.

"Jonathan is here?" You ask with a knowing grin.

She smiles and nods.

It's a shame what became of her and Steve, but she and Jonathan are a cute match. You are a bit envious of them.

For a moment, you sit in silence listening to Time After Time play through the speakers across the gym, swaying to the music. Until Nancy clears her throat.

"So, can I ask you something personal?" She asks.

You hum, curious as to what she wants to ask.

"You were there with Steve that night at Jonathan's house, right? Did he protect my brother and his friends?"

"He did; it was sweet," you retort. "And I was supposed to be on a date with Billy Hargrove. Unfortunately, Steve got caught up in his drama."

Nancy merely smiles.

"Mike said you stood in front of him and his friends even though you didn't know them. Thank you for that."

"It was nothing. And if you get the chance, Steve deserves the thank you more than me," you suggest.

Whether it be her brother or yours, or Max and the others, you will always stand to protect them.

Speaking of your brother, you see him dancing with who you assume is Michelle. You are thankful that he got his dance, even if he is a brat.

A few people over from him are Max and Lucas, dancing close; she looks happy. You are glad the two got a chance to be with one another.

That night she swore that she would tell what she was doing at the Byer's residence – not that it was any of your business – but since you broke up with Billy, you had seen less and less of her. The reason behind her actions still confuses you. It's a shame, but you are glad she can smile without fearing that her brother will torment her for it. Perhaps one day you will get a chance to talk with her again and find out what she meant.

And maybe how Billy is doing.

Warm tears fill your eyes as thoughts of him come to mind. You miss his grin and even the lewd innuendoes he often threw at you. A smile pulls at your lips, but your chin quivers as memories invade your mind, causing more damage than good. Did seeing Max remind you of him? You hope he is doing better than you at least; you doubt that thoughts of you randomly enter his mind.

"Are you OK?" Nancy asks suddenly.

You realize that she can see you. Heat rushes across your face from embarrassment and you blink away the tears.

"Tonight has me feeling rather nostalgic. I think I just need some air," you reply.

"I'm here if you want to talk," she mentions.

Standing up, you excuse yourself and walk outside to the truck, leaning against the driver's side door. For a moment or two, you remind yourself that you are OK. Witnessing so many love-sick teenagers dancing with one another with no care in the world has you feeling a little envious. Why is your love life so complicated.

You take a deep breath, opting to go back inside or sit outside a little longer, but across the parking lot, a familiar Camaro catches your attention. You widen your eyes.

Why is Billy here?

Max had made him swear not to bother her or her friends, so it made no sense for him to be at the school. Unless of course, he had to drive her. How vindictive.

You can't see him because of how the car is parked – with its trunk to you – but his arm hangs from the window, holding a cigarette whose end burns like a beacon. Should you walk over and say hello? A knot forms in your stomach at that idea. Perhaps it's for the best that you leave him alone.

But you want bad to see him.

Giving in, you take an uneasy breath, walking across the parking lot to the driver's side window. You knock on the roof to announce that you are there and lean down to see him better. He doesn't look at all surprised; his eyes are dark like the sea during a storm.

"What do you want?" He asks above a whisper.

You can hear the faint sound of music playing on the radio.

"I saw you sitting here and thought I'd come over and see how you are doing," you answer.

Billy snorts.

"I'm fine."

You have no doubts. He's the type to bounce back no matter what.

"Can we maybe talk?" You ask.

"There's nothing to talk about," Billy retorts, flicking ashes onto the ground near your feet.

You frown and lean up.

"No, I guess there isn't."

Billy tightens his jaw and then reluctantly motions at the seat beside him. At least he isn't chasing you away; not yet anyway. You had expected much worse. Walking over to the passenger door, you get in and shut it, resting your back against it to see him better.

The blond takes a drag of his cigarette, eyeing you for a moment. You wonder if he likes your outfit.

"I thought this was a middle school dance. Do you have a date or something? I thought I saw Harrington here earlier."

Is he jealous?

"I'm a chaperone," you answer. "As far as Steve goes, he probably came here to see Nancy."

You tilt your head in question.

"But what are you doing here?"

He rotates the spark wheel on his lighter; a flame shoots from the hood, illuminating the car, then he releases the fork and tosses the lighter onto the dash.

"Max," he utters. "Won't you believe it? I had to drive her to this stupid dance even though I'm supposed to leave her alone."

You frown. A month isn't enough time to change his opinion of her you remind yourself. Not to mention no one knows he's hurting; how bad, you aren't even sure. And perhaps he isn't hurting at all. He might just be an asshole.

"But you're doing better it seems. I'm happy for––"

"Is that what it seems like? Did you come over here to see whether I'm treating Max better?" Billy asks with a snap, interrupting you.

You take a deep breath. He's mad; you understand. Bringing up Max first is not the best topic starter; noted.

"I missed talking to you."

He snorts.

"Sure. An entire month of averting your eyes every time I came into the room proves that."

"Because I wanted to let you have your space. I was unfair to you, but there is so much hate in you and at the time I didn't think you'd ever forgive me," you admit.

Billy leans forward; his blue eyes shine with tears.

"Nothing has changed, babe."

Babe? Not your name or an insult. It's promising.

"And maybe it won't," you utter. "But I do miss you; a lot actually."

You take a deep breath and continue.

"I want you to know that I would have stuck by your side through whatever dark road you went down."

It's the truth. You want him to get better, but with little time, that isn't possible.

"And yet you broke up with me," Billy points out, sharp as a whip.

"A week wasn't enough," you mention. "And at the time it didn't feel real."

Billy scoffs.

"If you wanted more time, then you should have asked."

Tears burn your eyes.

"You don't understand a damn thing. It's not about that."

"I don't understand?" Billy asks in disbelief. He tosses his cigarette out the window. "That's the pot calling the kettle black. And after what you promised me."

What does he mean?

"All I wanted to know was why you picked me. A simple I chose your name out of a damn hat would have sufficed. But you danced around the question when I asked."

"Because you already know why," Billy merely states.

No, you don't. You feel so frustrated.

"What are you talking about? When? And what damn promise?"

"Don't you remember what you said to me that night at Tina's party?" He asks in annoyance.

You shake your head no. That night is one big blur. All you remember are little things here and there; Steve losing at his own game; Billy shirtless.

"You told me that I looked like the loneliest person in the room," Billy states.

Did you? You remember running into him on your way to get another drink – right before you kissed him. But you don't remember insulting him. That makes no sense. Why did he take you home then?

"And when I said that everyone in the room was my friend, you laughed and told me that none of them truly cared; that without popularity no one would bat an eye in my direction," he reminds you.

Oh shit! That sounds familiar. How much did you have to drink that night? You couldn't keep your mouth shut.

"I'm not like that," you utter.

"Alcohol is like a truth serum, babe. You told me what you thought about me," Billy insists. "But that's not all."

What else?

"You leaned in and whispered: if given the chance, I promise I'd never let you be alone. And I accepted."

Your eyes widen.

"I had forgotten."

Billy didn't ask you to date him because he thought you were cute or because you gave him your body; he asked you because you promised to help him. He went out of the way to impress your parents and even let you drive the Camaro because, for a week, you were supposed to make him feel cared for. But you had interpreted the relationship wrong, thinking he thought less of you and broke up with him.

Tears blur your eyes.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"It's not my place to remind you of your promises," Billy answers.

He's right.

"I'm sorry, Billy. I'm so sorry."

You rest your head against the seat as tears run down your face. Did you see the darkness in him before you even met him? Drunk you has issues.

Feeling his hand cover yours, a spark of hope ignites in you. Does he forgive you? Probably not, but it's worth a shot.

"For once you were right," you utter in a broken tone.

Billy snorts.

"I'm always right."

You turn up your eyes and grin.

"Don't get too ahead of yourself."

You turn your hand and slide your fingers between his.

"I want to keep my promises."

"The week is up, babe." Billy mentions.

You hum and glance at him.

"I want more time. Please."

"How much?" Billy asks, grinning.

Now he's just messing with you.

"As much as it takes," you answer.

The blond releases your hand and rests it on your knee.

"You may be with me for a long time then."

"I'm fine with that," you admit. "I want to be yours."

He bites his lip and motions his head towards the backseat of the car.

"You said you missed me. Do you want to show me how much?"

"We're in the parking lot," you argue. "I swear, you're turned on like 90% of the time."

Your face heats up.

Billy snorts and rolls the window up.

"Hearing you say your mine is a turn-on."

He's a horndog. But what does it matter? You like him this way.

Leaning down, you turn up the radio a bit louder. Sussudio plays through the speakers as you motion for him to come closer. His lips press against yours as he leans forward, running a hand up your thigh. It feels so good to be in his arms again. You feel his tongue sweep against your lips and eagerly you open your mouth, running your tongue along with his; a shiver runs up your spine.

You have no idea how long you have until the dance is over, but you don't plan to waste a second worrying about the world; not with Billy at your side.

The promise you had made Robin holds true in your heart; you are going to enjoy your life a little more. Because tomorrow never knows.

#stranger things fanfiction #billy hargrove #stranger things #billy hargrove x reader

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lmelodie · 2 years

Photo

OMG ITS FINALLY DONE NOW I MAY REST THESE WEERY HANDS

A continuation of drawing Dani’s characters from Crystal Springs The Season Sisters are HERE!!

This took so incredibly long because unlike The Frosts, i didn't have the clearest picture in my head of what the seasons looked like and there was A LOT of ironing out to do on these designs but they're here!!!

And because i spent so long on the design process under the cut is gonna be a lot of random details and things i did while making them (Cause i am a character design nerd)

WARNING: It is LONG under the cut. I gots a lot to say

Summer:

I did some preliminary sketches before reading too far into CS and i SCREAMED when i accurately guessed that summer was both black and buff. The only correct call tbh

I was really caught between giving her natural hair (to match Autumn) or the spiky Christmas tree hair i had originally envisioned for her. But i like the shape of the spiky hair too much to let it go

The design to add blue and green motifs were very last minute because she needed something to break up the yellow.

Originally her arm details started out as mesh sleeves in the preliminaries, then turned into vague markings, then i decided to make them landscape tattoos

Summer doesn't technically have a crown, because i forgot/didn't want to make one lol

Summer i had the least ideas for her outfit so it went through a lot of versions

Spring:

Spring i probably got the most wrong from the canon tbh lol

Her vibes ended up being more Riverfront/freshwater inspired, especially when it came to the hair. long and flowy baby

The HARDEST design i had to make with spring is to decide what dress silhouette i would do. Because I originally wanted her and autumns dresses to both be open slits but mirrored, but the fluffy skirt ended up really selling me. So i took the shape from dress 3, the top half from dress 1, and the flower accents on the sleeves from dress 2

Other than the outfit, spring has also probably changed the least in terms of looks

She gives me Isabella energy from Encanto

Autumn:

AUTUMN WAS SO FUN TO DO. She's what kept me going throughout this process and she's the one who’s final design i like the best.

I had such a clear image of her in my head, the shortest and chubbiest. Unintentionally very pumpkin like

SPEAKING of pumpkins, her pumpkin sleeves were a total ACCIDENT. COMPLETELY UNPLANNED. i accidentally made them on the final dress option and i fell in love, so for the final design i added little green ribbons to highlight this detail.

I wanted to also give her the leaved collar from dress 2 but i absolutely forgot about until just now when i’m typing this out lol

She has an ever so slight disco vibe to her final design (carried over from dress 2) and i love that for her

Winter:

Winter was nothing too strenuous considering i’ve done outfit studies for her before

BUT THAT DOES’NT MEAN I HAVE’NT PICKED 1 OUTFIT FOR HER YET

Every dress i try i like a little too much and i can see her everything as her main outfit so far, but the final design i did nail down will do just fine lol

I ended up taking the split skirt detail from dress 1 and just combined that with the rest of dress 3

I imagined her to be really ethereal, so i blurred the lines of where her clothes end and her skin begins

The golden necklace is from Blaise :)

I don’t know why, but it was really important to me to make sure that winter has small titties

Idk if anyone has picked up on this ye, but since i designed winter after drawing jack a whole bunch, i accidentally made it so he gets the little hair swoopties in the back from her lol.

All Four:

I imagined them as quadruplets and all of them being the same age

I originally thought of them as like a choir/quartette so the very first ideas i had for them where trying to make them all as similar as possible

That being said, i still think of them as a choir group akin to The Muses from Hercules and The Fates from the musical Hadestown (Which is how i imagine them to sound/sing). I can see them narrating the story points as its happening in song form.

Any one of the other ideas i had for them can be taken as another outfit they have in their closets :)

All of their skirts are actually indicative of their season. Summer has both of her legs out, Winter has both of hers covered, Fall only has 1 leg out and Spring has only a little of both out.

#thats a lot #i need a nap after that whole mess #might not draw them for a little while after this too #crystal springs #The Santa Clause #artists on tumblr #digital art #Character Design #costume design #Fanart #frostverse

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miraculouscontent · 3 years

Text

(non-Miraculous asks)

Anonymous said:

Ok this may just be me but I hate deconstructions. I feel like they are always mean spirited and try to be dark and edgy and thinks that every single person is an asshole because that’s “realistic” when no it’s not. This maybe because I like superhero stories and love it when the heroes overcome their struggles.

I can agree for the most part. Whenever I hear “okay but what if it was dArK--” I’m just okay, gonna stop you right there.

Anonymous said:

I swear, nothing bothers me more than people who want Miraculous Ladybug to literally just be Yandere Simulator(with Marinette as Ayano, Alya as Info-chan, Adrien as Taro, Chloe as Osana, Lila as Kizana, Kagami as Megami, and Luka as Budo). It just grinds my gears, especially because they're, once again, framing Marinette as a stalker, which just makes her look bad, AND pits all the girls against each other for Mr. Generic Harem Protagonist, once a-fucking-gain. Just go play the actual game, ok?

All I'm hearing is that now I have to ship Ayano and Budo and write a fic where the ghost girl uses fancy fantasy magic to merge her soul with Ayano and lets her actually have emotions, healing her from being a yandere while the ghost girl (in a way) gets to live a life she was cut short of, also allowing Ayano to be happy and go onto be friends with all the rivals.

Extremely convoluted but that’s the only way we get happy endings in this house.

Anonymous said:

I remember how, when writing Sailor Moon, Naoko Takeuchi refused to bow to older male writers wanted, say, for the girls to be stereotypical manga characters, with one being overweight, one being a stereotypical nerd, etc. But Naoko wanted each of the girls to be beautiful and feminine. While I don't like that they all share a body type, I admire how she didn't listen to grown men when writing for and about young girls. And I can't help but think about how Madoka is the antithesis of all that.

I can appreciate writers who put their foot down to stick to their values. There are limits of course, but yeah, a women writing women probably shouldn’t be listening to a man’s input. I’m sure good advice exists buuut...

Anonymous said:

What is your ranking of the seasons of the year from most to least favorite and why?

Summer - I work best in the warmth

Spring - Always brings images of flowers blooming to mind

Autumn - Things are getting cold and I don’t like it

Winter - It can go choke for all I care

Anonymous asked:

Someone on TV Tropes actually said that the name Feminist Fantasy should be changed because "feminism excludes men the same way meninism excludes women" and actually had the nerve to link that to the "Not So Different" trope, as if women haven't been excluded throughout the history of almost every human society. Fortunately, someone responded to them in a way that technically amounted to "do your damn research" but I'm still facepalming so hard at TV Tropes' "what about the men" rhetoric.

I feel like I lost braincells reading this.

Anonymous asked:

I feel like in fiction written by men there are only three flaws that female protagonists are allowed to have: clumsy, boy-crazy, or ashamed of their flat chests. I hate it.

Don’t forget, “having to listen to the men for how they’re supposed to feel.”

Anonymous asked:

Jatp. Nominated. For. Seven. Emmys. SEVEN!!!! Miraculous could NEVER. Literally.

omg!! Congrats to Julie and the Phantoms!

Anonymous asked:

WHAT ARE YOUR FLASHBACKS TO EVER AFTER HIGH?? I GOTTA KNOW? OMG?

Oh, I’ve seen basically the whole series, though the one I remember most is definitely Epic Winter. It was my favorite one though Beauty and the Beast is my favorite Disney movie so I’m biased.

I also like a lot of the “twists” and just--crazy concepts they rolled with, like with Red Riding Hood’s story and how Apple White gets woken up from her slumber.

Anonymous asked:

You're gonna be happy to hear this...I just started watching Cardcaptor Sakura today, and holy shit not only do I love it, but I also love how freaking META it is! I know you said you're not all that knowledgeable about Magical Girl, but this show is AWARE that it's a Magical Girl show! From Tomoyo(the main reason this show is so meta, tbh) realizing Sakura is a Magical Girl and asking if she has a transformation pose, to designing outfits for her(more on that later) to videotaping her(aka literally making a Magical Girl anime out of her Magical Girl friend), it just has fun with itself and plays with Magical Girl tropes without making a mockery of them like all those "dark" male-aimed ones do(lookin' at you, Madoka Magica and Yuki Yuna!).

And not only is it hilarious and adorable(especially with Sakura's crush on Yukito, Tomoyo's crush on Sakura, and Touya picking on Sakura, but playfully), but I love how it's riddled with girl power. While watching some of the first episodes I was looking forward to seeing Syaoran(partly because I love male Tsunderes and partly because I can't pronounce his name), and was surprised that he wasn't in the first few episodes, but more importantly I was so happy to see a show that treats its female characters with respect and shows women unironically receiving support from other women and being shown possessing power and authority.

I love Sakura and Tomoyo's friendship even if I hate the trope of "Lesbian Never Gets The Girl"(not that I think she's entitled to Sakura's affections or anything, but still.) and watching her support Sakura in her magic endeavors without being jealous or vindictive, I love that they're allowed to be independent and smart but that the show doesn't forget that they're kids, instead of making them like Manon and Chris, and I love that the show passes the Bechdel test in pretty much the first or second episode, and that pretty much every important and unimportant character we meet that's not Sakura's family members, Kero, or Yukito(plus maaaayyybe the Shadow Clow Card) are female.

Even little things, like all FOUR of Tomoyo's bodyguards in the second episode being female without there being a "reason" or the show making a big deal of it(either in a "yay girl power!" way or a "what but women can't x" way or an objectifying way) fills me with insurmountable joy. Also, I love that the show follows the Magical Girl trend of pretty much admitting that femininity is power, since frilly dresses are stated to be the most "fitting" thing for a Cardcaptor to wear, as without it, they might not be mentally up to the task, and this is an unironic truth rather than a joke(although Sakura is shown to be embarrassed, but it's much more likely that she's simply not used to that kind of gear due to not being rich as Tomoyo is.) or a gag.

I just thought I should tell you this because I know you like Cardcaptor Sakura, and with the crappy episodes that just came out of this show, I think you deserve to read an ask that's about a GENUINE girl power Magical Girl show, instead of yet more Miraculous Ladybug salt or Madoka Magica hate(not that there's anything wrong with either of those two, but it just gets grating after a while.). Overall, I'm looking forward to watching this show, since I've been looking for a Magical Girl show to watch nowadays(I've been meaning to watch Star Twinkle Precure but I can't find the third episode and all of Cardcaptor Sakura is on YouTube now, so.). So excited!

Hey, I’m glad that you’re having fun with it!

Though, just a warning, you might wanna steer clear of the Clear Card arc. It’s a sequel to the original series made waaaay after the original (think the equivalent of Yashahime for Inuyasha, though continuing with the original characters) but omg I hated it.

Anonymous asked:

With the crappy Season 4 episodes that just came out I'm glad I got into Cardcaptor Sakura when I did. Who needs "Marinette needs to make a mistake every episode and learn something from it" when you can have genuine girl power and sweetness incarnate?

Alya could never compete with Tomoyo, I’m just sayin’.

Anonymous asked:

Your comment about white men feeling "disenfranchised" because more shows are about black people and/or women(I say and/or because the two aren't mutually exclusive.), as if there aren't a million other things they could be watching instead is so true! It reminds me of how I was talking to someone recently about the new generation of MLP, in which I stated that we didn't need a male mane pony(spoiler alert: they have one, sadly.), and he claimed that it would be beneficial since many shows aimed at boys at least try to include at least one main girl, and that it would be good for G5 of MLP to have at least one strong male lead so that boys could have a role model and know that the show isn't "girly".

Okay, so far, so good, but this I could chalk up to just unconscious internalized misogyny, especially since he didn't say it in any sort of "way". So I respectfully told him that the scale regarding representation is already not equal and that boys can look up to girls and that a show being girly is not a bad thing and all that stuff that you already know about. Then he responded claiming some stuff about how he keeps trying to pitch stories about straight white male characters and how nobody is accepting his offers and so this means that straight white men are underrepresented compared to everyone else. He even explicitly said, and I quote "White people are actually critically underrepresented in media right now. Especially boys."; I swear to the Goddess above.

At this point I was officially upset as a black girl, to hear this white(and presumably adult) man telling me that he was underrepresented in media compared to me, even saying that the media execs are practicing "quotas and tokenization"(and yes, he repeatedly used those terms for any instance of representation, even when I asked him politely to stop.) by replacing women with men or white people with pocs and are making white men look like incompetent doofuses.

He also kept saying stuff about how shows are always shoehorning people of color in where they don't belong by casting them in settings such as Shakespeare and medieval times when "realistically" there were no people of color during those time periods(which is obviously not true, it's just not what the history books show us.), and made a really insensitive comment about how black children in the USA today don't know the significance of having the first black president because the media supposedly already shows them black people in various professions(despite also claiming he couldn't speak to the "black experience" and yet here he is whitesplaining that shit.).

It got to the point where he was seriously and unironically using the word "blackwashing". When I pointed out to him that white men aren't underrepresented and that it's just his self-centered ego telling him that they are, that the word "blackwashing" isn't a thing, and that mis/underrepresentation in media DOES affect black kids negatively(even citing myself as an example) he went on to claim that I was being tone-deaf and that "blackwashing" is just as bad as whitewashing, and that making Ariel black is just as bad as making Jasmine white.

At this point I had to bang my head on the table and explain to him the difference; his ass still wouldn't get it. Eventually he started saying some really skeevy and hypocritical shite that white men say all the time when whining about how "oppressed and underrepresented" they are: that black people and/or women

(it looks like there might be an ask missing here, in which case, sorry if Tubmlr ate it!)

avor of supporting the commonly believed LIE that "women and/or minority groups don't have as much history worth learning about, so there's no point in focusing on them." He also kept using patronizing, condescending, mansplaining language such as "let me explain it to you" or "you still don't get it do you?", and when he said women had nothing to contribute to society because "oppression" he even had the nerve to tack on "welcome to the unequal society" as if I hadn't been lecturing him about just that.

Because obviously only white men did anything worthwhile or important in history. At this point, I had to block him. I couldn't take it anymore and this was on an MLP site of all places(although I'm probably just as guilty of that part, but at least I wasn't an ass!). I just can't stand white men who "want to be oppressed so bad" but still want to claim that their achievements are more important and deserve to be more prominent. Honestly, so many white men are so fragile the second they're not in the spotlight. I can't help but think that despite all the privilege afforded to their class being a white man sounds like the worst thing ever.

“he claimed that it would be beneficial since many shows aimed at boys at least try to include at least one main girl, and that it would be good for G5 of MLP to have at least one strong male lead so that boys could have a role model and know that the show isn't "girly". “

I might be looking too deep into that but I don’t like the idea of, “Well WE squeezed in a girl and therefore YOUR SHOWS--” like it’s some sort of matter of “fairness” or that boys’ shows aren’t putting in girls out of a genuine like for them but because they “need” one or it’s some sort of obligation.

Also, we need to stop this idea that boys can’t look up to female characters and vice versa for girls. You already said it but yeah.

And yeah, I hear "quotas and tokenization" and I officially tune out of whatever the person is saying, lol. White men are critically underrepresented???? Newsflash, maybe it’s just because others are being represented more??

Just the whole thing about whites being “underrepresented” boggles my mind. White people don’t have some sort of special ability or skill that other races can’t do themselves unless you count the “superpower” of white privilege.

Like, oh my god, all that “whitesplaining” and having to read the word “blackwashing” was physically painful. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. I don’t know how they got hold of the technology to communicate with you from whatever time period their from, presumably the Stone Age.

Don’t even blame you for blocking them. There’s just a level of absolute... blindness? Arrogance??? That comes with the territory with them sometimes, I swear. You had every right to be upset; other races come to ask for equality and fair representation and suddenly you have these white men (not all obviously but damn) coming by and crying that they’re being oPpReSsEd. U_U

Like, honestly, my father in particular is absolutely that kind of person so I’ve heard that kind of stuff before. it’s all gross.

On a slightly unrelated note (trying to end this with some positivity), I hadn’t even heard about a fifth generation of MLP until I read this, and just wanted to let you know that I really hope you have a really good time with it! Hopefully the male character isn’t... well, you know.

#other: ask and answer #other: non ml talk

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plaidbooks · 3 years

Text

Hard Hits and Fatherly Advice - “The Big Leagues” baseball AU (part 1)

(Moodboard by the ever lovely @witches-unruly-heart )

A/N: Oh boy is this a long one. It’s mostly dialogue, so hopefully it reads quickly. Anyways, this picks up basically right after the last chapter. I hope you all enjoy, and as always, feel free to send any questions about baseball terms!

(After feedback of liking shorter chapters, I split this one in two. Part 2 is out tomorrow)

Tags: light angst with a happy ending (in the next part), nightmares (in the next part), head injuries, near death experiences

Words: 2672

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @permanentlydizzy @ben-c-group-therapy @infiniteoddball @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @alwaysachorusgirl @glimmerglittergirl @joanofarkansass @redlipstickandblacktea @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles @crowleysqueenofhell @dreamlover31 @reading--mermaid @caracalwithchips @berniesilvas

Though Sonny was upset about not winning a ring in the World Series—as was the rest of the Mets clubhouse—the misery was short lived. You both only waited until February before you were married, and he got a ring much more valuable. It was a decently sized ceremony, in only because you both had big families. And true to your words, you were still on birth control. You both agreed that during the All-Star Break, that’s when you’d try for kids. But until then, you were enjoying each other as husband and wife.

The few months before Sonny would have to report to Florida were the happiest of either of your lives. You still wrote articles, and Sonny still did his workouts and training. Outside of that, though, you spent your time together. It’s like you couldn’t get enough of each other, couldn’t learn enough about each other, even though you’ve been together for five years now.

You went on trips—both in the city and out—rearranged the loft, laughed together, cried together, did everything together. It was like you were both trying to shove a year’s worth of quality time together within the two months he was home.

But soon enough, Sonny packed his bags, gave you a passionate kiss, then got on a plane to report to Spring Training. You talked to him every night, asked how his day was. He was incredibly excited for this season, working harder than ever. You understood why; this was the last season in Shea Stadium, before the Mets moved to Citi Field, and ol’ Shea would be demolished.

***********************

“And you’re sure they want to interview me?” you asked your boss. Your phone was shaking in your grip, your nerves going everywhere.

“They do! This is a big step for you; you won’t be working just the Mets anymore. If you get this hosting job with ESPN, you’re going to rocket to the top!” she replied.

You swallowed; this was a huge opportunity. But the Mets were your team, your home. Though, you could always do this interview now, make a final decision later. If you were picked up by ESPN, would you still be around home, though? Would you have to move, live away from Sonny? And you wouldn’t be working strictly within the baseball season anymore; they could have you do any sport they wanted. Were you really ready for this?

“So? Are you in?” your boss asked, and you realized you’ve been silent for minutes now.

You cleared your throat. “Y—yeah! When and where’s the interview?”

“It’ll be during Opening Day, in the SNY booth. You’ll be off for the night for it, of course.”

During the game? But Sonny was set to start, and you wanted to watch your new husband out on the mound. “Okay…yeah, okay. I can do that,” you replied, albeit a little less enthusiastically.

“Great! I’ll let them know to expect you!” She went quiet for a moment, before saying, “listen, I know this is scary, that it’s a lot of change. But this will be good for you. Trust me.”

***********************

You were fidgeting in your chair, dressed in your most professional outfit. The interview with the ESPN exec was…odd, to say the least. It wasn’t like a normal interview; no, he wanted to see you in action. So, after introducing yourselves, he turned his chair to look out at the field, inviting you to do the same. He asked you questions—everything from technical questions about a player to more general questions about the sport.

The game started, and Sonny Carisi took the mound. The ESPN exec smiled, motioning to him.

“I heard you two got married in the off season,” he commented.

You unconsciously ran your thumb over your ring. “We did, yeah.”

“So, I assume you know everything about his form and pitching style?”

Your eyes traveled to Sonny; the SNY booth was on the second level, so he looked very small down on the field. You watched him start his windup, pitch, get a called strike, and you smiled. “I do. But I knew his form before we were married. I remember first hearing his name when he was tearing up Triple A.”

“Yes, I’ve read your articles from that time. You were very prolific, and I think you’ve only gotten better with experience.”

You were flattered with the praise, giving him a smile and a thanks.

*******************

You weren’t sure how long this interview was supposed to go. It was the top of the fourth, and you never really loosened up around the man. But the questions seemed easy enough, and you were hoping you were doing well, whether you took the job or not.

As Sonny took the mound again, you leaned slightly forward to watch. The first pitch he threw, however, was crushed. The ball flew off the bat, and the whole world stuttered to a stop as it went right up the middle. In the blink of an eye, Sonny went from the end of his windup to flat on his back, the batter crouched on the ground with his head in his hands, and a group of trainers and coaches rushing to Sonny’s body.

***

Sonny was focused; it was the start of the fourth, and he was having a great game. Duca gave him a slider, but Sonny shook it off. Duca tried curve, shook off again. Fastball, right across the numbers? Sonny nodded before setting. He gripped the ball, as he had so many times before, and he threw. He knew as soon as he let go that he missed his target, that it was lower than he wanted it. He just hoped Pujols wouldn’t hit it out.

Sonny heard the crack of the bat hitting the ball. His glove moved of its own accord, going to block his face—from what, he did not know. There was pain, then nothing.

***

The ball hitting Sonny in the head replayed over and over again in your mind as you stared at his lifeless body. Move, your mind yelled to your legs. MOVE!

You felt your mouth move as you turned—muttering out a soft “excuse me”—before you were bolting out the door of the booth, racing to the locker room, the field, you weren’t sure, nor did you care. You needed to get to Sonny; that’s all you knew. You thundered down the stairs to the ground level. You could now hear the crowd cheering, and you felt the briefest touch of relief; Sonny was up, getting off the field. He had to be. Right?

You pushed past anyone and everyone who was in front of you, desperate to get to him. You were panting, your legs burning by the time you made it to the locker room door, but you didn’t feel it. The security guard asked for your id, and you ripped it off your shirt, throwing it at them as you pushed into the locker room.

You heard the crunch of the cleats on the floor before Sonny was on the stairs, four trainers guiding him. He had a dazed look in his eyes, his legs wobbly as they helped him to a bench. He had a huge bump on the right side of his head, his skin already discolored with a nasty bruise.

“Sonny, babe, are you okay?” you asked with bated breath, trying to catch his eye between the trainers hovering over him.

His glassy eyes glanced around until he found you. “D—dizzy,” he mumbled. Then his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed forward. The trainers caught him, laying him gently onto the bench while one went to call for the paramedics.

**********************

While Sonny was in the recovery room, you tracked down his doctor, determined to make sure your husband was going to be okay. He had regained consciousness in the ambulance, but barely. His eyes couldn’t focus on anything, flitting around the cabin. You tried talking to him, reassuring him, but his words were slurred, and he eventually passed out again.

“Mr. Carisi suffered a massive concussion and hemorrhaging; he’s lucky to be alive,” the doctor said after you found him. “A few inches to the left, and he would’ve died instantly.”

You tried to swallow past the lump in your throat. “But he’s going to be okay, right?”

“Oh yes; he was very lucky. He should recover fully, as long as nothing unexpected happens,” he replied. “Head injuries can be tricky.”

You nodded. “Does that mean he can play baseball again?” You knew that Sonny would want to know, that he’d want to make sure he could still play.

The doctor gave you a hard look, judging why you were prioritizing a game over your husband’s health. “Will he play again? Yes, I believe so. But not any time soon.”

“How long?” The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them. Maybe you were becoming more like Sonny than you thought.

He seemed to think about it for a moment. “Maybe 6-8 months, if he follows the physical therapy correctly.”

Your stomach dropped. “O—okay…. Do me a favor and let me tell him, please?”

“Of course. But I suggest not telling him anything too shocking when he first wakes up; he’s going to be disorientated.”

*****************

After speaking with the doctor, you retreated to Sonny’s room. He was still out, a bandage wrapped around his head, holding an ice pack to the spot he was hit. You sat next to him, taking his warm, limp hand in yours, threading your fingers through his. As time went by, you flipped on the TV. But the first thing you saw was a replay of Sonny getting hit, and you quickly turned it off, feeling sick to your stomach. It had looked…so bad. And it was; he was incredibly lucky to not be paralyzed, brain dead, or worse.

You wanted him to sleep as long as it took for his body to heal. But you also wanted him to wake up so that you could make sure he was okay. Though, you were dreading the inevitable talk about baseball, and you didn’t want to see the hurt in his eyes when you told him how long he was out for.

Eventually, Sonny slowly stirred. His eyelids fluttered, his breathing picking up. You had made sure to dim the lights so that his eyes wouldn’t get strained. He flexed his hand in your hold before giving you a light squeeze, which you returned. Once he finally opened his eyes, they focused onto you, his gaze still cloudy from medication.

“H—hey doll,” he breathed, voice raspy.

You quickly poured him a glass of water, holding it to his lips. “Hey, Peanut Butter Cup.”

He smiled at you, the action causing him to dribble water all over his chest. You put the glass down, reaching for napkins. “Sor—sorry,” he muttered as you patted him dry.

“Don’t be; you’re still on heavy medication—”

“I meant for getting injured. Making you worry.”

You gave him a soft smile, tossing the wet napkins on the table. You offered him more water, but he shook his head. “It’s okay, Sonny. I’m just…I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Yeah…. What—what happened? Last thing I remember is…” he closed his eyes in pain as he thought.

“Don’t hurt yourself, love—”

“I was pitching,” he muttered, opening his eyes to look at you. “We were playing St. Louis on Opening Day…. I threw a fastball to Pujols; I knew I could make him chase up high—”

“He hit a comebacker, Sonny. Caught you right in the head,” you said softly.

Gently, he brought his free hand up to the side of his head, gingerly feeling the bandages. “I—I only remember throwing the pitch, then opening my eyes to the trainers and coaches leaning over me. Then nothing until right now.”

You nodded. “They helped you off the field. I made it to the locker room before you did. You passed out shortly afterwards.”

“But I’m okay?” he asked with big eyes, filled with trepidation and worry.

You tried to give him a reassuring smile. “You got hit pretty good. But you’ll be okay; I know you will be.” Like hell were you going to tell him about how close his brush with death really was. The thought made you slightly queasy.

“And I can get back out there, right? Pitch again?” His voice was filled with hope…and fear. When you didn’t answer right away, the fear took over. “I’ll be able to pitch again, right doll?”

You gripped his hand. “You will, yes. But Sonny, my love…your season is over.”

You didn’t think he could look more devastated than if you told him his whole family had died. Tears filled his eyes, and he looked away, pulling his hand from you and trying to wipe away the tears before they fell.

“You’re going to take this time to heal, babe. Then you’ll come back next season and kick some ass—”

“This is the last sea—season in Shea…. I’m never going to pitch in my home again…” he muttered, hiccupping.

Your heart broke for him, and you wanted nothing more than to somehow fix this. But there was nothing you—or anyone—could do. Head injuries could always take a turn for the worst; there was no fast tracking this recovery.

“This was already going to be your last season there. So, we start taking care of you, start working towards your healing. That way, you can pitch again for your team, your second family,” you said gently.

You found a clean, dry napkin, and handed it to him. He wiped his eyes, then turned to look at you, opening his mouth to say something. But then his eyes flicked over your shoulder, and you turned to find the doctor there.

“Is it true, Doc? Am I done for the season?” Sonny asked, voice desperate. It’s not that he didn’t believe you; he just didn’t want to believe the news.

He nodded. “Yes; you’ll be off for the next 6-8 months at minimum. You’re very lucky to be alive, Mr. Carisi.”

“I am? Was it that bad?” he asked, looking between you and the doctor.

The doctor also glanced at you, silently wondering why you told him the fact his season was over, but nothing else. “Why, yes, it was. You had a massive concussion and severe hemorrhaging. You avoided death by a few inches.”

You looked into your lap in resignation, eyes burning from unshed tears. Sonny saw the motion and turned to look at you.

“Did you know this?” he asked, voice hushed. You nodded, unable to look at him, and he sat there, dumbfounded, his mouth dropping slightly open.

The doctor did his checks, then left you both once again, sitting in silence.

“I—I can fight this, make it back before the postseason—”

“Sonny, no you can’t. Please. You need to think about yourself right now, your health. Not your team. Think about your own life—”

“But baseball is my life!” he yelled, exasperated. He looked to you, eyes pleading, and you gave him the same look back.

“Please, Sonny. Think about when we have kids. You want to be healthy for them, don’t you?” you asked.

He flinched as he thought about it, eyes scanning his bed. “Y—yeah…I do.”

“Then please take care of yourself. Pushing yourself can only hurt you in the long run.” You took his hand once more, bending down until he was looking at you. “Please, take care of yourself. For me? For our future family?”

You could see the fight drain out of him; it was one of the hardest things you’ve watched…and you hated that you caused it. But he nodded slightly. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll take it easy, heal from this 100% before I come back. For you. For our future children.”

#sonny carisi x reader #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #fanfic #my writing #the big leagues au #baseball!au #baseball!sonny

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gumnut-logic · 4 years

Text

Five Things Thunderbirds

Uniforms

Each brother has his own uniform specialised to their task. In canon, they just stick with that uniform no matter the situation due to the CGI budget for the show. Poor Gordy to be stuck in a swimsuit all the time. So, I’m thinking that in ‘reality’ they may have different versions of their uniforms to be used as required. For example, none of the non-space bros’ standard uniforms really work in space. Also, I’d hate to see poor Virg try to swim in that outfit – though Scott swam in his at one point.

The only time I’ve played with this concept is in ‘We’ll Be Home For Christmas’.

Scott darted a glance at Gordon. The aquanaut held his gaze. His eldest brother was dressed in an IR wetsuit. It was startling to see him out of his familiar uniform. Gone was his flight baldric and in its place, yellow slashed across his blue, visibility more the priority underwater. The only concessions to his commander rank were his shoulder patches and twin silver-grey bands on that yellow baldric. Alan was dressed similarly, but where Scott sported silver, Alan sported red. Neither had their helmets on.

Gordon had only mentioned the suits to Scott when preparing for this venture because he had hoped to enjoy some recreational diving. Their suits were far above average equipment, so why not use the best to have a little fun?

Scott had rolled his eyes, but five wetsuits had been thrown into their luggage. They had supposed to be used for sharing his world with his brothers.

It would be interesting to visualise some other forms of their uniforms :D

Who makes their uniforms?

Hair

Fanon riding on definite hints claims Scott is going grey. Several of us, including me, have hinted that Virgil dyes his hair (though I’m related to a black-haired individual and it took him ages to finally go grey, I’m talking into his seventies). Fanon also tends to claim redheads don’t go grey.

One of Virgil’s piano sonatas started playing over his tablet ever so softly.

Despite himself, he smiled. “I’m fine, Eos.”

“You’re worrying again. This is not good for your hair production.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Several sources state that stress can disable the pigment production in human hair follicles, resulting in white, often termed ‘grey’, hairs. I believe this is a negatively viewed characteristic and I have noted that your elder brothers have encountered this issue already. It causes distress, therefore it should be prevented.”

Another blink. “Both of my older brothers have dark hair. Grey becomes very apparent in contrast.”

“It will turn your hair pink.”

“What?” This conversation was ridiculous. “It is a natural ageing process. There is very little that can be done about it.” A breath. “I’m not vain, Eos.”

She didn’t answer immediately. “But your brothers are?”

“My brothers are my brothers, Eos.”

“Well, that makes little sense.”

“Just accept them as they are.”

“Is it possible to accept them any other way?”

“No, not really.”

“Then that statement is redundant.”

“Eos.”

“Yes?”

Frivolous distraction, Eos-style. She had become quite adept at it. Moving his thoughts off worrying topics. A sigh. “Thank you, Eos.”

She didn’t answer immediately, but then…

“Did you know Virgil dyes his hair?”

As for the blondies :D Apart from being young, these guys will be like John – turn white rather than grey…eventually.

Hmm…unless someone gets traumatized badly and their hair starts growing in white from shock….fic ahoy :D

It should also be noted that I headcanon Virgil’s hair as being curly, which is why he styles it so much :D

Colours

So why are the Thunderbirds and their pilots colour coded the colours they are?

Possibilities:

Scott copied his Dad.

Virg likes green cos it was his mother’s favourite colour – I’ve used that in a fic.

Alan always wanted any rocket his Dad built to be a bright red one, so his Dad painted it that colour – used that one, too. This may also be the reason why TB1’s nose cone is red. Little Allie jumping up and down declaring it is a rocket and Scott saying no, but then capitulating anyway :D

Yellow is likely a functional colour for Thunderbird Four so it can be seen underwater.

Why is John’s baldric gold?

Grandma

Grandma is approximately our generation (well, technically not mine, I’m older than her ::wails:: ), but she would have been born in the eighties in order for Jeff to be born in the mid-2000s (to be in his fifties in the show).

So, Sally Tracy would have grown up in the digital world. She would have been around ten years old when the internet became a thing. In 2020, she would be likely in her thirties and at her prime with our technology. She should be able to wrangle a phone and a computer as well as we can.

We have to remember that she isn’t our grandparents, she is us :D

The Pokey Trees

This is a headcanon more than anything, but I’m basing it on fact.

New Zealand is home to the Pohutukawa (NZ Christmas Tree). It is one of their dominant trees. It is a Myrtaeace family member (which includes the Australian eucalypts). The Kermadecs to the north of NZ, and Raoul in particular support an endemic version of this tree called appropriately the Kermadec Pohutukawa.

So apart from the palm trees on Tracy Island, I’m thinking this would be the dominant tree (and I wrote it into my fic).

Scott and Mel pushed up a steep incline for some time. She had taken them off the main track and deep into the forest. Birds sung all around and the wind rustled through the blossoming trees. The pōhutukawa were in their brilliant crimson Christmas flowers, festooning the island as if to decorate for the season.

Grandma loved the pōhutukawa trees on Tracy Island and was in fact the only reason he knew the name of the plant. She cut flowers every year for their Christmas table to acknowledge the beautiful piece of land they lived on.

They reminded him of home.

This whole island reminded him of home.

Gordon or Alan coined the term ‘Pokey trees’, but really it’s because I can’t pronounce that word for the life of me. Just ask @onereyofstarlight who has heard me try :D

-o-o-o-

And wow, I really managed to ramble on with these five things :D

Nutty

(off the edge, but learning to fly)

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #5thingsTB

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everybodyscupoftea · 4 years

Note

What about pike Jj, Cody and Tyler fighting over who gets to match reader on Halloween and she ends up playing them where they end up matching each other or something like that lol

okay, i had an idea for this today on my drive home from work! so let’s say we kinda combine requests and have some fun. jealous pike jj and group costume and costume contest!

ft. zach, cody, tyler, and brooke

“so are you and zach planning on matching?” cody asked, laid back on the bed next to you.

you hummed, “maybe. i was actually thinking about a group costume.”

“with who?” tyler sat up, sounding curious.

“well, with you guys actually.”

“oooh,” cody started, intrigued, “whatcha got in mind?”

“well i was thinking that you guys kinda look like the guys in teen wolf, thought it would be fun if we did that. everyone loves a good werewolf look.”

“i get to be isaac,” cody raised his hand.

rolling your eyes, you squeezed his shoulder, “sorry bud, but you’re scott.”

you invested in fake teeth, contacts, and beacon hills lacross merch for the boys, fully dedicated to winning the competition. you took the excuse to buy a new outfit for lydia even though you had plenty in your closet already.

“i still think you should’ve been derek,” cody told you as he stood in front of the mirror trying to put the contacts in.

“well, i wanted a new outfit and to match zach.”

“technically, you made out with me too,” he wiggled his eyebrows at you, red contacts in.

you shuddered dramatically, “that was season one, please.”

tyler gently punched his shoulder, “bro, she’d never actually go for you, it was all for jackson.”

cody rolled his eyes, “yeah, whatever. it still happened.”

“i’m not kissing you for...multiple reasons.”

“baby, you could only dream of being so lucky,” he cooed, throwing an arm around your shoulder.

“fuck off,” you complained, straightening the shirt collar he messed up.

“what’s up boys?” you heard zach call from the hallway before he walked into the room. his hair looked shaggier than usual and he did a little spin to show off his outfit.

“sorry guys,” you told cody and tyler, “he looks much better than you chumps.”

“zach is hot,” tyler nodded, “i can live with that.”

zach winked at tyler, “good, hate for us to have to break up.”

“never, babe,” tyler blew him a kiss.

zach laughed and bent down to press a kiss to your forehead, “looking great tonight. stiles was a lucky man.”

you grinned, “thank you, sir.”

“ready to go, team?” cody asked, pocketing his wallet.

“born ready,” you cheered, bumping your fist with tyler’s outstretched one as the four of you walked toward the door.

“i’ve got the uber,” zach volunteered, “we’re just going downtown right?”

“yep, thanks man,” cody responded cheerfully.

“no prob, thanks for letting me crash the group costume,” zach responded, locking his phone.

“i think we should be telling you that,” tyler told him, wry smile on his face.

“ty, i’m not sure if anything will ever be better than hermione.”

tyler shrugged, “probably not, but this will do.”

the uber arrived not too long after the four of you made it outside to stand on the sidewalk.

“you know,” you told them as the four of you climbed in the car, “this is maybe my favorite costume so far.”

tyler cooed loudly and pinched your cheek as the driver pulled away from the curb. you slapped his hand away and the driver asked, “what are you guys?”

“teen wolf, bro,” cody, who was in the front seat, told him.

“my sister watched that i think.”

“great show,” zach told him from your right, “i’d recommend.”

“dude, are you zach davis?”

blinking a few times, zach nodded slowly, “yeah.”

“dude, you’re incredible! you gonna try and go mlb next year?”

he laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, “thanks man, um, i think so, yeah. but for right now, i’m focused on finishing up here.”

“yeah, definitely, i just. wow, my roommate is going to be so jealous.”

“hey, thanks for the support.”

you were trying really hard to stifle your laughter, but tyler was less successful. a few snorts escaped his mouth before he managed to hide his face in his shoulder. nudging him harshly, you tried to avoid making eye contact with the driver in the mirror.

luckily the drive downtown was short and you were able to hold it until he’d pulled away from the curve. as soon as he was gone, you and tyler lost it, bent over with belly laughs while zach stood above the two of you, unamused look on his face.

“fucking hell,” you muttered, wiping your eyes, “zach, i didn’t know you had a fan club.”

“you and me both,” he slung an arm over your shoulder as the four of you started walking toward the bar. the line was short and it didn’t take long to get in.

holding on to zach’s hand, you let him pull you to the bar, cody and tyler close on your heels.

“you’re buying right?” you asked tyler.

he sighed, “yeah, i lost fair and square.”

“elite, i’ll start with a vodka cranberry,” you told the bartender, “triple shot please.”

tyler sighed and motioned for the rest of the group to order, “on me.”

“why?” zach whispered in your ear after ordering rum and coke.

“he lost our weekly game night, which means he buys all alcohol on our next outing.”

“i didn’t participate,” zach’s eyebrows wrinkled in confusion.

“yeah, but you’re my plus one. and don’t worry about him going broke, he had a ton of customers for his laptop repair side business last month, he’s good for it.”

zach looked impressed, “okay i do feel a little better now.”

“going to sign our names on the contest sheet,” cody yelled over the music, beer in hand.

“good, thanks!” you yelled back, taking your drink off the bar where he’d slid it.

“dance?” you asked zach when he grabbed his drink. he took your arm with a smile and you held the other one out for tyler, “you too?”

tyler grinned, “fuck yeah!”

the three of you moved toward the dance floor, grabbing cody along the way and started jumping around with everyone else. the costumes you could see were pretty good, but you thought your friends and you had a real shot at winning.

“when’s the judging?” you yelled at cody.

“11,” he told you before throwing an arm over your shoulder, “saw maybank and brooke!”

“in costume?”

“yeah, guess what as?”

“what?”

just as the song slowed down and started to change, he loudly answered, “scarecrow and dorothy from the wizard of oz.”

everyone in the vicinity turned to look at him. cody blushed, stilling, and waved at them all, “hey, a, b conversation.”

“who’s dressed like that?” tyler asked him, looking around.

“maybank and brooke.”

“ew,” you muttered, “whose idea was that?”

“i highly doubt it was jj’s,” zach laughed and the rest of you nodded because, yeah, that had brooke written all over it.

by the time judging rolled around, you were sufficiently tipsy and heavily leaning on zach. jj had been avoiding your eye all night whenever you tried to catch it and you were over it, content to just focus on your friends and boyfriend.

“you know,” you slurred at them, “whatever happens here, it’s been an honor and a pleasure, boys.”

zach snorted, arm wrapping around your waist, “aye aye, ma’am.”

tyler saluted sloppily, “yeah, boys, way to go.��

cody was leaning on him, grinning, “we’re gonna win. i bribed the judges.”

“you didn’t,” you shoved him, “don’t even joke.”

“i didn’t. or did i? imagine if we win, you’ll never actually know.”

“this man doesn’t have a dollar to his name,” tyler reassured, trying to pat your shoulder and missing.

“hey!” cody protested, “i have at least five dollars.”

you laughed just as they announced third place, second place, and then, “and for first, we’ve got teen wolf.”

“fuck yeah!” tyler yelled, throwing his hands up.

cody howled, very in character, and you couldn’t stop the grin from creeping on your face at their antics. zach laughed as they chest bumped and dragged you and him to the makeshift stage where they were passing out prizes.

tyler leaned on the table as they handed out the free drink vouchers and t-shirts. as the four of you walked away, he leaned in, “bro.”

you winced at the smell of vodka on his breath, “what?”

“guess how many votes we got?”

“how many?”

“so many.”

your eyebrows shot up, “actually?”

“mhmm,” he grinned cheekily, “guess how many maybank got?”

“less?”

“one.”

“what?!”

he cackled, “a whole one.”

“it’s what he deserves,” cody nodded seriously.

“what’s going on?” zach asked, having missed most of the conversation while he was trying to call another uber.

“maybank getting his just desserts.”

“desserts,” cody interrupted, “should we go trick or treating?”

“literally where?” you asked, “we live in a city.”

“i’m sure we could find somewhere.”

zach shook his head, “no, dude, we’ll just go back to mine, i have oreos.”

“oh fuck,” cody groaned, “i could kiss you right now, bro.”

zach blew him an air kiss playfully and cody caught it, bringing it to his heart. you laughed at their antics, an arm around each of their waists, “love you guys.”

“love you too,” they all chorused back. your boys.

#pike!jj #cody and tyler #jj maybank #jj maybank request #frat!jj

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fordarkisthesuede · 3 years

Text

The Tolls of Justice: the Tarot, Name Meanings, and More!

Gentlepeople…

BEHOLD!

All the tarot-aligned hints! All the future foretellings! All the silly references! :) Everything you might have overlooked is here for you easy-to-read pleasure!

Naturally, there be spoilers a-plenty ahead for Batman the TellTale Series: The Tolls of Justice, so if you haven't read it (or maybe you're thinking about reading it, or this is your first time hearing about it), I'd advise waiting until you're done with each chapter to read through the sections. You can either click the link and be redirected to Ao3, or look through my tumblr tag #ttoj!

*One forwarding note: the tarot references build slowly in this story, and I only use the traditional Major & Minor Arcana. You'll see a lot of jokes and name-type references before we get to the tarot. I also simplified the numerics, but they're often displayed as roman numerals on cards, hint hint.

Prologue

gang member "Four Ears" - a very very off-the-collar reference to the line "Listen up, four-ears!" from J-Men Forever; in context, it was an off-shoot of the insult "four-eyes" but for music taste, also implying the person's taste was "square".

gang member "Muddy Nye" - his name can be boiled down to "muddy river". It works as an allusion to the messy, unclear case ahead of Bruce and the Batfam, but also as a hint to Clayface, who acted as Muddy in his first sighting of the story.

"Sunset" - a reference to everyone's favorite vampire series to pick on, the Twilight series; back when it was at the height of it's popularity, some drug dealers sold heroin marketed towards the crowd based off it's terrible and unfortunately iconic(?) line from Edward Cullen, "You're my own personal brand of heroin"…hence why the drug of choice BM is shipping here is heroin. Essentially, this plot setup is one big joke.

"FIGS" - a reference to POP! vinyls, hence the capitalized name and spiky word balloon on the packages.

"Gray Ghost [memorabilia]" - one of my (and everyone else's) favorite BtAS episodes, which proves definitively that Bruce Wayne | Batman is not only a Huge Nerd™, but also a massive collector of normal fandom things. (Do you think he troughs through blogs and fanwikis…? What am I saying, of course he does. He edits them.)

gang members "Jack Whendleham and Kirby Noltz" - nod to Jack Kirby, comic artist extraordinaire!

Ch.1: A Different Ceiling

[chapter title] - John does not wake up in Arkham at the start of the story, hence waking up to a different ceiling. He also hits different limitations on what he can do, so it's also a different kind of "ceiling". (Like the term "the glass ceiling", the invisible barrier a demographic hits in a hierarchy.)

St. Dymphna New Life Home - named after Saint Dymphna, the patron saint of mental illness. There's no "'s" at the end because I saw other clinics named after Saints didn't use the possessive form when referencing them.

The Lucky Hotel - an oxymoron, really; the unluckiest place to get stuck at with it's seedy history, but also the place where John "gets lucky"…in a couple of different ways!

Stitched Up Alterations - a heavy nod to the wonderful batjokesy line from S2, "We're two threads in the same stitch". It's pretty deeply ingrained in fanon (and technically canon, if you go with The Dark Knight) that Joker makes his own clothes, hence Batman rarely finding him through his tailor. Since John's thrifty and clearly made his original Joker outfit(s), I piggybacked off it as a legit skill to give him. I mean, come on, the guy is always so stylish! And you're really going to look at me and say he didn't alter his thrifted shirts and vests to fit his sleek frame? Puh-leeease.

13th Street - 13 is a traditionally unlucky number in western culture; hence the "Lucky Hotel" there having a bloody history, along with a failed, closed casino nearby.

Corazón gang - okay, I admit…I'm still a weeb at heart. It's a One Piece reference. Corazon was one of the few post-timeskip new characters I really liked; his name is Spanish for "heart", and he sported a heart motif. Like the gang in this story, he also died before the start of the main storyline.

Ch. 2: Face Values

[chapter title] - A reference to the phrase "not taking things at face value", which is very evident in this story. Also doubles as a rather loose reference to the upcoming Tarot cards.

Sebastian Overfield - The name Sebastian means "from Sebaste", as is derived from the Greek word sebastos ("venerable", someone who has a lot of respect). Overfield of course is "over" and "field", implying the family is on a high hill overlooking/overseeing/maintaining a certain field. As Seb is a reverend, this name is well-fit for him.

orange rose [gift from John] - means "passion" in the language of flowers, and can allude to fascination; this can be taken platonically or romantically…but it's definitely romantic when it's coming from John.

blue iris [gift from John] - means "faith and hope" in the language of flowers, and sometimes are associated with royalty; an allusion to Batman/Bruce's overall symbolism in the eyes of Gotham…and John.

Chandis [ship, circa Prologue] - A reference to Chandi | Chandika, the Hindu deity; the short version of their story is that they are a demon slayer, known to be angry and passionate, wield multiple weapons, and ride a lion. And who was on the ship? Hmm…

Ch. 3: Ink Trails

[chapter title] - A reference to the Alterations' claim slip John finds, which ends up leading back to the Court of Owls. It doubles as a reference to the mask tattoo/clue on Ian 'Nito'.

Faith Ackart - "Ackart" is a variant of "ackhart", derived from "ekkehard", which we can say roughly means "brave/hardy". The name "faith" and "hardy" together is another very subtle clue for the audience towards the villains' motives. (Well, I say that, but it was really more of a joke-clue for me to giggle at. And it makes a good reporter name!)

Lou Monger - the guy's a fish monger…with the last name Monger. It's-a joke! ;D

Ian 'Nito' Coggs - first mentioned without his real last name, but "Ian Coggs, Nito", is a pun on the word "incognito"…which is what Clayface is here.

FriendBook/Chirp/bloggr/uBox - takes on Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, and YouTube respectively. (This started back in my 'Season 3' story, At the Brink of Midnight, though I've since learned that bloggr was a real thing. :T) The 'uBox' is meant to be a play on 'jumping box'/'the box' as other terms for TV, like 'the tube'.

"whole tomato of pins" - the supposed history of tomato-shaped pincushions is that tomatoes placed on mantels repelled evil spirits and guaranteed prosperity, but I really wanted to just allude to the common pin-cushion shape. (My mom once had a whole little basket of strawberry shaped pin-cushions. I remember "borrowing" them a lot as a kid to play with. And then "losing" them.)

"sock and buskin masks" - these are a reference to the "comedic sock" and "tragic buskin (i.e. boot)" of the Greek comedy-tragedy theatre masks. I figured something like them would be a good logo for the "false faces", as BM is obsessed with masks. It also doubles as a natural callback to the "your relationship with x has changed" feature of TT games.

Ch. 4: Suite of Cups

[chapter title] - the first chapter to be a reference to the Tarot, in specific the Minor Arcana of Cups; rather than specifying the card at play outright, this title is a pun on the aforementioned arcana "suite", as the main location of events this chapter are in a casino's hotel suite. One can interpret many Cups cards at play here, but...

○ Specifically, in the Casino's suite/crime scene, there are 8 visible seats, but 7 cups on the table. The 7 of Cups refers to choices, fantasy, and illusion, an indicates there are multiple opportunities or many paths you can take, but they should be chosen carefully; when reversed, it can mean confusion, diversion, and temptation, and indicate a lack of choice or failure to choose.

○ The upright version is definitely in play, with the overall root of TellTale games being choices, and some "the player" makes this chapter will move your relationships with Tiffany and John in different ways, which can strengthen your relationships with them. If "the player" has chosen to be a more violent Batman, the way the Talon - and later, the Court - treats Batman is different.

○ The Reversed reading can be interpreted for the Court's complete disregard for the mere notion of choice.

Bauta - a Venetian carnival mask, meant to represent 'anonymous decisions' via it's original design of protecting identities. It's quite common in carnivals.

Melpomene-Thalia - the Venetian masks for comedy and tragedy, a la 'sock and buskin', the masks used as a general symbol for theatre. You can practically taste the irony, given who's shown wearing it...

Volto - a Venetian mask, meant to represent 'anonymity, quiet exit' for it's blank face. It's also known as the "Citizen Mask" because of it's worn by the common folk (in comparison to the more elaborate masks).

The Lot [casino] - named for "drawing lots", like drawing straws or matches to pick a person to do a task (usually with the shortest straw having to do the task, but it varies). This is both a pun on the fact that it's a casino - where you try your luck at gambling - and corresponds with the theme of foretelling the future that's woven throughout much of the story.

The Wednesday Nighters gang - this doesn't mean anything in particular. I'm a big fan of Midsomer Murders, and there's an episode ("Death in a Chocolate Box") where it references a few dirty cops who frequently took the Friday night shift at a station for episode-plot-reasons, who called themselves The Friday Nighters. It's an off-shoot reference to it, hence the corrupt cops on the gang in this story. :)

[John's voicemail] - Another BtAS episode I love is "the terrible secret of Bruce Wayne". In particular, I loved Joker's voicemail when Dr. Strange calls in ("Boy, do YOU have the wrong number!") and I wanted to do something like that. But, y'know, way less murdery.

"F85H4ND" - l33t-written "Fate's Hand", for…well, the hand of fate, supposedly guiding you through life/events. Another correspondent to the foretelling the future theme.

Michael Hodgson - not all of the names I pick for characters mean anything. Sometimes their names are just loose references to things I like. This is a silly mish-mashup of the original hosts of Mystery Science Theater 3000, Michael [Nelson] and [Joel] Hodgeson. (Joel was the first host + show creator, and Mike was the second host who closed out the original series run.)

"40F5WRD5" [Batcomputer archive] - l33t for the 4 of Swords, a card in the Minor Arcana for rest and restoration; since the archives and file names are randomly generated when not prompted otherwise with manual input, an otherworldly force seems to be saying 'get some damn sleep Bruce'.

[John's ringtone] - I know, TT always has everyone's phone on silent. I don't care. Bruce's ringtone for John is "Mack the Knife", a song about a violent mobster, played on a carnival organ. Chosen because 1) John probably loves that song, 2) I thought it was funny that it has the line "the shark bites - with his teeth, dear - when he shows them pearly whites" and how well that goes with John's A+ dental care... 3) TeamFourStar made jokes in their BtTTS S2 playthrough about having "a special ringtone whenever John calls [them]"…why would I not carry that through? They did get me to where we are now, you know. ;)

Ryde - the in-game stand-in for Lyft, the not-a-taxi service.

Ch. 5: The Wheel Still Spins on the Upturned Chariot

[chapter title] - a reference to 2 tarot cards in the Major Arcana. 1) "The Wheel"/"The Wheel of Fortune", which is a sign for continuous cycles, inevitable fate, and usually indicates good fortune and pre-destiny when the card is presented upright. When reversed, it can signify bad luck and an unfavorable fate. 2) "The Chariot", symbolizing a path forward to success, confidence, and overcoming obstacles; when reversed, it's stands for recklessness and lack of direction/control. 3) As the Chariot is upside down, John's original plans have been upended and everything goes out of his control in a chaotic situation. He’s essentially "not at the driver’s seat" for a little while. "The player" decides which direction to take the wheel in - either letting him lash out violently and send him on more solitary and dangerous path, or satisfy his need for stability by embracing his new relationships. The Chariot is always upturned here, but whether the wheel spins forward or backward is up to "the player's" decisions.

511 N. Blade Street - this one's a bit messy. 511 = V I I, or VII in roman numerals, which =7. The tarot cards are traditionally numbered in roman numerals. North, for pointing upright, and "blade" is synonymous with "sword". So it’s the "7 of Swords", in the upright position – referring to deception and trickery, which is of course what's going on in regards to who Ian 'Nito' Coggs really is…

Apt 1005 - even muddier, but this is referring to the 10 of Swords, which is for betrayal and backstabbing, hinting at the true motives of "Ian" | Clayface. 10-0-5, so 10 and the l33t for "OS" = 10-o-S.

900 Wanda Way - Both a pun on the phrase “wander away” and the 9 of Wands in the Minor Arcana, which alludes to pushing forward to achieve victory. A good allusion for a clinic, me-thought.

400 Wanda Way - The 4 of Wands in the Minor Arcana stands for community, another good allusion for a clinic.

Karen McCarthy - named after the most stereotypically uptight narcissistic asshole the masses have agreed to call 'Karen', and both McCarthyism and another famous lady with the surname McCarthy. Because I wanted you to know the second you see her name that she is *horrible*. (Funny, though, there's 2 senators named McCarthy that are pieces of shit and one infamous quasi-celeb who's the face of the anti-vax scene. Is it just a cursed family name?)

Ch. 6: The Tips of Our Swords

[chapter title] - Refers to the 4 of Swords card in the Minor Arcana, as the "swords" are alluding to the four active members in the Batfam - Bruce, John, Tiffany, and Iman - who work together on the case[s]; you can infer this title to a presentation not unlike the Musketeers joining swords to affirm themselves as a team, as they all gather together. The reversed reading of the card is for restlessness/stress in Bruce's case, and the clear signal of the universe to tell him to relax, and the reading when presented right-side up is for the break it gives to "the player", with the homey atmosphere of the Batfam spending time together. Either reading is completely valid here.

○ BUT, as Alfred is a non-active member of the Batfam, we could also say that 5 of Swords is also at play, right-side-up for the fighting and resentment with Alfred, and John's hinted budding conflict with him; and 5 reversed for Bruce's attempts at making up with Tiffany. If one illustrated the gathering of our four heroes joining swords like the musketeers over a breakfast table, then Alfred would be sitting drinking tea, standing as a symbol of the Ace of Cups, signifying new emotions or stirrings of feelings.

○ If we stretch the metaphor eeeven further, the title can also be a loose reference to the Sword of Damocles; threats always hang above the heads of powerful people, and in this case the looming threat of Black Mask and the mysterious assassin, ever-present in Batman's world…

Dr. Brandi September - literally "Sword" and "Seventh Month", alluding to the 7 of Swords, hinting to deception and manipulation at play.

"I was tired of the soup du jour" - a shameless Devo reference; a tiring of the routine/everyday. "I'm tired of the soup du jour - I want to end this prophylactic tour - ain't nobody around me - understands my potato - I'm only a spud boy - lookin' for a real tomato" - DEVO, "Mr DNA/Smart Patrol".

Motel 11, Augury Road - "augury" is another word for crows; as a gathering of crows can be a method of fortune-telling, this a reference to a gathering of 11 crows, which when seen is supposed to be indicative of disguising or revealing secrets.

Ch. 7: Drawing the Strings

[chapter title] - meant to allude to John aligning the strings connecting the people and crimes together, like an old-fashioned way of mapping clues; can be interpreted as these crime-strings on the proverbial board being drawn closer together, marking the center of the "web" as the Court of Owls

Frieda Baast - Frieda, an allusion to the Norse goddess Freya, who rode on a chariot driven by cats, and Baast, the Egyptian goddess who had the form of a cat. It makes it really obvious who was staying at the Motel 11, huh?

room 14 [Selina Kyle's motel room] - a reference to the 14th tarot card, "Temperance", which when upright is meant for choosing the middle path between choices. This is meant to reference Selina herself, currently at a secret, personal crossroads and being in "the middle"; John can influence her hidden choice by either making her think about what her potential job's employers are really aligning themselves with, or taunting her into how she can't leave her old life behind. (Whether John is violent or not doesn't completely impact her choice, but it does impact how they interact later if Selina winds up in the hands of our villains.)

Oracle, Spoiler, Batgirl, Spectrum - Batman's had a lot of non-Robin sidekicks in comics, including Batgirl (originally Barbara Gordon), Oracle (Barbara Gordon, post-Batgirl-forced-retirement and computer hacker extraordinaire), and Spoiler (Stephanie Brown, who "spoiled" crimes). As a fan of Ao3/tumblr's @fractualized 's own Telltale Bat-verse fics (the "Release John Doe" series), I added in the reference to "Spectrum", which Tiffany became in lieu of "Robin". A wink from one fan-writer to another! ;)

"I'm steppin' out, my dear - to breathe an atmosphere […] - that simply reeks […] with class" - John's singing a classic Fred Astaire hit, "Top Hat, White Tie, and Tails".

Eric, Jerome, Jeremiah, Jack [John's "Normal name" ideas] - As this story allows "the player" to pick a name for John to use in place of his own, you can pick between some classic and modern references to Joker's alternate personas over the years. Eric White Border (edit: goddang it that's what i get for looking at White Knight while writing this up and never double-checking), Joker's regular persona in the New 52 Batman comic line; Jerome or Jeremiah of the Gotham TV series, both of which are different aspects of Joker's personality through media, with a more modern gritty version in Jerome (think Heath Ledger's Joker) and a more modern take on Joker's sociopathy in Jeremiah; and last but not least Jack Napier, the first official name of Joker circa Tim Burton's Batman (1989), and the one most popularly used (BtAS and other comics throughout the years since use this name). "The player"'s choice doesn't impact the story or the way John acts, but it does give a surprise feature later. ;)

Matt Chaney - Aka, "Clayface", Matt has both new and old elements in his name alone. Matt, for Matt Hagen, the most well-known/used of the Clayface personas, and Chaney, for classic film actor Lon Chaney, AKA the man of a thousand faces. This Clayface is an aspiring actor who is psychologically dependent on Moddy to keep him handsome after a terrible car accident left his face marred. He uses his excellent makeup skills and acting to infiltrate the False Face Society, and double-plays them and the Court of Owls.

Root / MuSec - stand-ins for Vine and TikTok, respectively. "MuSec" is both a play on the word "musac" (the word for 'elevator music' and generic produced music you hear in fake stores and the like) and the mish-mash of the words "music" and "second", referencing the short length of the videos. "Root" was used in a prior story (At the Brink of Midnight), and acts as another "natural network" type name akin to Vine; though I do recognize "Vine" might have come along as part of the phrase "I heard it through the grape-vine". I have a feeling some Aussie fans might find the fake-Vine name funny...or just awkward.

Ch. 8: It Had to Be You

[chapter title] - A reference to the classic crooner song, "It Had to Be You"; specifically, the one that flows through the first scene is a cover done by Frank Sinatra, meant to align with other Bat-media's use of Sinatra where Joker and Batman are concerned. The Arkham games got his famous "Under My Skin", and another crooner's "Only You". Batjokes fans/content creators have also used "Strangers in the Night" for their relationship. I wanted to present one that would feel at-home in the TellTale universe regardless of what route you end up with, and what's more perfect than a song about finally discovering the love of your life? The song fits them to a tee, in my humble opinion…

Estella Art Gallery - Selina's art gallery, mentioned previously to have been the site of a Talon attack. "Estella" translates to "star", for the tarot card "The Star". When presented upright, it means hope and rebirth; this card can be presented after a disaster, such as an event like "The Tower". Normally, it can be interpreted as a card to show a phase where you have trust and faith in yourself and the universe. Selina was turning over a new leaf and enjoying her new life until the Owls found out who she was.

Mrs. Bollard - "bald-headed person"…this poor woman got her wig snatched as John stole Bruce from her on the dance floor. xD

"I knew today's horoscope was bullshit" - a nod to earlier, where Roman mentioned his horoscope when visiting Bruce; "a friend will help you out of a tight bind." Not that it was mentioned like that... still! I wonder what today's was? "You will be fortunate in your business endeavors"? Ha ha ha! But really, the horoscope is another nod to the theme of foretelling the future, as it's a popular method to try and see how your day, month, season, or year will be. Not that I know what sign Roman is… *thinking face*

[Achievement Unlocked: Batman Who Laughs] - John showing up in the Batman cowl was not only funny, but a direct nod to the Batman Who Laughs. The TT games had Batman comic titles often used as Achievements, so I figured I'd put in some…

[Achievement Unlocked: Batwoman Rises] - Iman helping the team out in the spare Batman suit is naturally a nod to Batwoman, and something I wanted to do for a while. ;D

Brighella - a Venetian mask taken from a play now used to depict a cunning and mischievous servant. Originally the mask was used to depict a greedy villain character.

The Two Gilded Cups - A restaurant in-story that references "The Two of Cups" tarot card, a card representing unity, partnership, and two becoming one. When upright, it's a card that can reference lovers or a new relationship; when reversed, it can represent broken communication, imbalance, or tension. As such, the couple who were seen at the restaurant - Sonja Townsend and her husband - are established lovers who work together for the Court of Owls, but those who were really there are Jackie Lant and Matt Chaney, who are in an imbalanced relationship. "Gilded" implies that "The Cups" are covered unnecessarily with gold - this is both in reference to Jackie and Matt's disguise of the Townsends and the truth about their relationship. Matt's lies are covering for his narcissism and selfishness, and ultimately is the only thing holding him and Jackie's relationship together.

Moddy - A fictional body modification clay-mud-putty that's a product of Janus Industries, this makeup is the favorite of Matt Chaney and the reason we can call him "Clayface". Like the traditional Clayface, Matt is in dire need to have his fix of the makeup, despite what it does to him - as John notes, it leaves a weird burn-like sensation, and since Matt has deep scar tissue he covers every minute of every day, it's made the skin damage worse.

"You’re really committed to drowning in that river" - A riff on the old joke "denial ("de Nile") isn't just a river in Egypt".

"Your words are honey in my ears, but my brain always turns it into bitter wax" - In Futurama, Fry has a silly line of “Sweet words! Sweet words that turn into bitter wax in my ears!”. It always had the potential to be a great metaphor if the words were twisted around! :) Plus, I mean, come on, this is a totally On Brand™ thing for John to say!

Ch. 9: Strength in Numbers

[chapter title] - Referencing the Strength card, for bravery, compassion, and inner strength; the title also doubles as a play on “different kinds of strengths”. Strength is the will the expose your truths. Strength is finding compassion to help others. Strength is staying true to your convictions in the face of opposition. We see all different kinds of strength on display here.

○ It can also a reference to the different partnerships going on, with Jackie joining the team (unofficially), Bruce and Tiffany going off to tackle the other half of our case, and John and Iman’s team-up. :)

"[John] could barely hear it over the tinny electronic whistling tune emitting from his own phone, telling him the person on the other end was a mystery" - this is referencing an old tumblr joke! Yes, John has the “It is a mystery” tone on his phone for unknown calls…complete with the little (:o) ghost icon.

CUP5K1NG [license plate] - Referring to the King of Cups card, a card portraying emotional balance and compassion. As it's not written as "K1NGCUP5", it implies it's a reversed card, signifying there's manipulation and instability at work. Even though Matt doesn't own the car this license plate belongs to, it's definitely tied to him since it's his getaway ride, and thus hints at what's to be revealed in his and Jackie's hotel room.

Aylin Street - the name "Alyin" translates into “moon halo; one that belongs to the moon”, thereby being a reference to the Moon card, representing mysteries and illusions. An investigation is afoot!

“Looks like I’ve got the red light, kiddo.” - In stage acts, the red light is to indicate to the performer their time on stage is up. Generally, it’s reserved for comedians who either overrun their time or are losing the audience. John's joking that he's been given the red light to exit stage left (but not persued by bear).

"What’s the ‘G’ for?” - Iman's 'Gotham Construction' jumpsuit has a G different from John's - it's shaped more like a gear. This is another Mystery Science Theater reference, in particular the logo for Gizmonic Institute, the company/labs that "employed" original host Joel and the mad scientist Dr. Forrester (and his assistant, TV's Frank), who started the experiments of forcing a guy and his robot friends to watch reeeally bad movies. The result was 12 (soon to be 13!) seasons of some guys making hilarious and very memorable jokes at said bad movies' expense. Does this reference mean that Bruce is just as huge a dork as I am, or does it mean that MST3K is real in this universe?! You make the call! ;D

○ …if you read 'What's the 'G' for?' in Invader Zim's voice, that's also valid. Especially if you followed it with “I dON’t know!” in GIR's. (There is no cringing here! We openly embrace our childhood silliness!)

MasterOfClayFace / #IdW3arThat [Matt Chaney's social media login] - naturally Matt is so far up on his high horse that he considers himself a master of clay work…and of course his nickname is ClayFace! His password is a joke in and out of canon, being a riff on Lemon Demon song: “A mask of my own face – I’d wear that” ~ Lemon Demon, “Mask of My Own Face” [Nature Tapes].

3055 [Jackie Lant's InstaPic followers] - According to research, the average Instagram following is about 1000, so Jackie is above average popularity. Anything above 10k is usually(?) celeb status. The number 3055 is meant to be broken up and turned partially into l33t, to make 3-O-S-S, or 3 of Sword[s]. The 3 of Swords card in the tarot signifies heartbreak and grief, stemming from betrayal, loneliness, and rejection. Jackie experienced all three of these heart-piercing swords during her return to Gotham, with Matt basically forcing her into isolation, betraying her trust, and rejecting her input and values in favor of his own; but she didn't really know it until the truth was exposed.

8055 [Matt Chaney's InstaPic followers] - similarly, Matt's follower count is meant to be 8-O-S-S, or the 8 of Swords card. It signifies self-victimization and imprisonment. In particular, the card shows a person restrained and trapped, but their helplessness is a show…they could choose to get out, if they got over themselves. Matt is incredibly selfish, so it comes as no surprise that he will play the victim card.

#OnlyInGotham - Another tumblr reference! I love the @hashtagonlyingotham blog! ( ^3^)

The Herold Rite's Theatre - A play on the word "Hierophant": Herold, like “herald (ruler/champion)” and Rites, like “sacred rites”. In the tarot, the Hierophant card represents following tradition and values, which for the Owls is their very core. This is basically a big ol' hint that Iman and John are heading into Owl territory, but also foreshadows the religious undercut of The Court and Reverend Sebastian Overfield's role.

"a familiar red-pyramid-and-floating-eyeball" [graffiti] - A reference to my icon! ;D You think I can't self-promo?

trading cards [found in theatre storage] - In the Theatre, John finds "old promotional trading cards for an old sci-fi film with big-brained aliens". This is a shameless and loving reference to Tim Burton's 1996 film Mars Attacks!, of which my AO3/tumblr icon and username is lifted - the movie was based on a series of Topps trading cards from the 1960's, and had it's own set of cards with movie scenes and behind-the-scenes pictures (and summaries of events) printed for the movie! They also used them as promotional tools, and if you get very lucky purchasing a copy of the old single-issue comic books from the 1995 Mars Attacks run from Image Comics, you can get a promo card.

https://bit.gt.gd/S3272019F?=RO - Originally "gd" stood for a derivative of Google Drive, but I can’t look at it and not see “get good”. The "S3272019F?" is meant to stand for "Started: March 27, 2019 Finished: ?". I can't believe I started uploading the story in March of 2019! Man, 2020 really messed with my sense of time…

Ch. 10: Tantara Bounces Off of Moonlit Walls

[chapter title] - "Tantara" is defined as "the blare of a trumpet or horn", as seen in the Judgement card, which stands for self-reflection as well as reckoning, and can indicate rebirth. There's of course another reference to the Moon card, for intuitions and the unconscious being. Then what are the "[Moonlit] Walls"? Well, they're the part of the only Major Arcana tarot card to represent a building - they are the walls of the Tower, symbolizing destruction and disaster. When all the cards' meanings are put all together, this alludes to a time of discovery among absolute disaster.

○ Expanded, the whole title is a reference to both forms of Judgement occurring – self-reflection and change are happening with Bruce and John as their mysteries and anxieties are finally put to rest: John is undergoing his final "rebirth", seeing his reality clearly in Arkham’s padded cell; Bruce seems to finally come to terms with working with Tiffany, as his fear of not being able to protect her comes through with her showing she's able take care of herself and prove she's a true asset to the team; and the Court of Owls finally comes to light, with Matt Chaney, the Talon Adam, and the Talon Sonja Townsend finally showing their real motivations.

○ We can also interpret the title as a reckoning coming for the Owls, who have long been obscuring the truth of their deeds and whose true motives have been murky. They've built their own tower of disaster with bricks of delusion, and judgement's horn is blaring a warning through their hallways…

"X-Sharp Manufacturing" - a reference to the 10 of Swords (hence the "sharp"), the tarot card for betrayal, backstabbing, and defeat. For Bruce, there is disaster here beyond his control that ends in a [temporary] defeat. For Roman Sionis, owner of the small factory as part of Janus Inc., he's unwittingly walked into his own betrayal.

"Merlin's Flower Arrangements" - Merlin, a famous wizard, is a reference to The Magician card, who defines “as above, so below”… And as John is taken to a secondary location, so is Bruce. :)

"La Luna Painting" - La Luna, aka The Moon; remember, shadows can play tricks on your eye, so something’s afoot here… Aka "HEY GUYS THIS TOTALLY ISN’T SUSPICIOUS OR ANYTHING NO SIR"

Yelsnia Theater - Yelsnia is…actually a name. But searching for it shows my true hint, as it's "Ainsley" backwards. "Ainsley" derives from Scottish words meaning “alone, solitary” or “hermitage”. This is a reference to the Hermit card – in this case, it's blatantly upside down, referring to loneliness, isolation, and a general disconnection with mankind. AKA, the path Matt is on.

"the looming pillar tower" [Arkham] - A blatant representation of The Tower. It stands for impending disaster and "an upheaval of a foundation of reality". Of course, this can be taken in two ways. 1) That John has overcome/avoided the disaster of another mental breakdown. 2) That John’s foundation of his delusions - that he’ll wake up in or get sent back to Arkham for his sickness - was wrong in a realistic sense, as he’s made serious progress in managing his emotional issues, and right in an unrealistic one, where the only way he could be sent back was through an outside force, i.e. the Owls.

10210475 [inmate number] - When separated for the numeric cipher, we get 10-21-4-7-5, or J-U-D-G-E

13051420 [inmate number] - When separated for the numeric cipher, we get 13-5-14-20, or M-E-N-T

○ When put together, the inmate numbers read "Judgement", the tarot card is shown here for John's choices and character arc on display throughout this chapter. When the card is reversed, it implies a lack of self-awareness, which we can also attribute to "the player's" choices for John if they make Bad Decisions. If you simply take the word "judgement" at face-value (without involving the tarot) it also works wonderfully, applying to John's entire situation as being a trial/judgement set by a higher force.

"The prince returned to the tower" dialogue [the prophetic cell mate] - Whether the person speaking is physical or not, John notes he can hear the scratching of pencil on paper within the cell, implying a person is writing their words down like a story… “The prince,” (John Doe, alias Joker, traditionally the ‘Clown Prince’ of Gotham) “having returned to the tower” (Arkham Asylum, the foundations of John's issues) “to reclaim his crown,” (assurance in himself and his reality; the completion of John's "self" with his final choices and becoming Vigilante!Joker for good) “trails after the fiend” (confronts the Talon Adam, alias Owl-man) “who's flying on wings of retribution” (core beliefs, perceived sense of justice). “The fiend’s wings are big, but the bones are brittle” (the Owl-man is imposing and persistent, but his physical "wings" are his weakness).

○ If you couple the Court of Owl's belief that G*d has written down the destinies of everyone in the world [as they are each born] with the knowledge that someone was writing down a short version of John's events at Arkham…hmmm.....

Room 11 [Iman's cell room] - The 11th card in the Major Arcana is "Justice". This can reference either 1) The just-desserts coming for Talon Adam/"The Owlman", or 2) The outcome of the player’s choice to take Iman with them or not.

11 minutes + 16 seconds [remaining time on bomb timer] - 11:16. 11/16, aka my birthday! :) I only wish I had finished Chapter 10 in time for the chapter's publishing year (2020), lol~

"Our Faith brings Perseverance, and Our Perseverance guides Justice, for Mercy to God." - The Court of Owls' beliefs circle around 3 principles bringing people closer to G*d: Faith, Perseverance, and Justice. Their belief hardens their persistence in their actions (as they are written and not guided by "Evil"), and their goals are ultimately to deliver justice where the human system failed and "Evil" prevailed in "escaping", hence the guiding of one principle to another. "Mercy to God" is what is granted by righting the injustices of the world; as G*d wrote your future down exactly, Evil can corrupt it, and once corrupted this does G*d a harmful injustice. The Court considers themselves close to G*d by "mercifully" stopping further corruption via eliminating "Evil" in all it's worldly forms…

Speaking of the 3 principles, our main Owls are meant to be "embodiments" of these in the story.

○ Talon Sonja Townsend represents Faith, driving home her belief in G*d's absolute destiny. She is corrupted by her own selfish goal of eliminating her son-in-law, but is also so by-the-book she does not think to look at the obvious double-standards of the Court, and doesn't think her underlying actions are guided by "Evil".

○ Talon Adam represents Perseverance, having fought Joker to unconsciousness, and was willing to blow up Arkham with himself still inside just to eliminate it; he is the most brainwashed, but the least corrupt in motivations, only striving to get what he feels is "justice". On the flip side of Adam is Talon Evan, who despite serious injury still appeared in Court and jumped at the chance to kill Joker and Batman, despite the Court's general appreciation of Batman; he is corrupt in personal selfishness, as he possesses no "real" faith in the Court's belief system and doesn't like others getting credit by stealing his targets.

§ ...it's also worth mentioning that the names for Adam and Evan are meant to be derivative of "Adam and Eve". In this way, it can also be seen as a parallel to The Lovers card, which one can attribute to Bruce and John. While Bruce + John are oddly harmonious and undeniably have a strong bond regardless of story paths, Adam + Evan are discontent rivals, with Adam "stealing" Evan's target and good graces with the Court, and Evan very pointedly beating up and kidnapping Batman (who Adam admires) to set up Batman's eventual Judgement.

○ Reverend Sebastian Overfield is the main representation of Justice, though he embodies all 3 principles. The Court’s belief is that their pursuit of justice – stopping Evil/chaos via deaths of criminals – overrides their own traditional sins. Because they are being helpful to G*d, granting Them mercy by righting the injustices of Evil and putting G*d’s Word back on the right path, they are in G*d’s favor. Therefore, as the leader of the Court and the one who organized everything by handing down "God's word", he is the carrier of Justice; without him, the Court would be nowhere and G*d would be shedding more tears over their ruined work…at least, in his mind. Naturally, he is the exact opposite of what justice should be. He is biased and unwavering in strict faith, as much a carrier of chaos as he doesn't want to be…

○ Of course, this is all also up to interpretation. One can interpret Adam as "justice", Evan as "perseverance", and Sebastian as the stand-in for "God", as he is the Court's ruler and is the sole person to hand down "the word of God".

"[…]if two people you normally count on for one reason or another" - Alfred made a subtle dig at John being Bruce's boy-toy. Ouch, Al'…

"[…]given it's your pet project, and all" - Even though Selina is talking about Arkham, she's making a dig at former-Arkham-resident John being Bruce's "pet", who in her eyes was Bruce's main reason for getting Arkham revitalized. :\ Man, everybody's picking on their relationship…

petrichor - The smell proceeding rain. Because it's not a climactic fight scene in Gotham city without rain.

Ch. 11: The Tolls of Justice

[chapter title] - Naturally referring to the Justice card of the tarot, this title is the same as the story title. Funnily enough, this is the 11th chapter, and the 11th card in the tarot deck. (I guarantee you I did not plan this bit… Funny how these things play out, ain't it?) The Justice card naturally stands for cause and effect, clarity, or truth; ultimately, it's a representation of karmic retribution, and what the Owls are in dire need of facing. The title overall is referring to both the [para]phrase "do not ask for whom the bell tolls, for it tolls for thee" (in the original context: a grievance over death for all out of love for community/mankind, not just one person) and the "toll" - as in cost or damage - of enacting justice. What Bruce has put himself through to become and keep being Batman, the enactor of vengeance for all those wronged in the city of Gotham, and what ultimately the Court of Owls has sacrificed - either wittingly or unwittingly - in the name of justice. It also extends to John, who for the sake of "justice" is routinely stuck in Arkham, in one way or another, and has never had a conceivably just or fair life at all - thus paying the unwilling toll opposing Bruce and the Owls. We can also extend it to Tiffany, who is making good on her work with Bruce to "pay her toll" for her own crime, with her toll being seen in a positive light as Robin, compared to what life sentence she might have been paying otherwise.

[the sword in the pulpit] - a symbolic reference to The Justice card, as the Justice card in the major arcana often depicts a sword, either alone or in someone's hand. This can also be interpreted as a reference to the Ace of Swords in the minor arcana, which is normally pointing upwards, referring to victory, truth, or ideas; when flipped, as it would be when looking at the initial depiction of the sword as a "cross", it stands for lies and confusion. The sword in the story itself is a symbol of justice, and uses snakes as the stand-in for the forces of Evil, which are destroyed by the owl making up the handle and supposedly wielding the blade.

"the skull peeking out of the knight’s helmet" [card in the box on Reverend's desk] - A very clear reference to the Death card, famous in the tarot deck. It signifies change, inevitable cycles, and new beginnings/directions. Depending on the reading, it can be interpreted as an actual death, but more often than not it’s merely showing of a life change. As this is the Reverend’s deck, it seems the last card he drew was Death… The viewer can interpret this as a reading from the Reverend into the Arkham plot, where Death is representing John’s own changes, the end of Talon Adam’s latest “cycle”, or the actual deaths that had occurred (no matter how many there are in the end). The viewer can also read this as the Reverend trying to find his own fate, the fate of Roman Sionis for his trial, or Batman’s fate. All of them are quite valid, but I feel the most accurate interpretation is that the Rev' was trying to read the future of the Court of Owls.

○ …as mentioned above, the Death card is the most overt reference to the Tarot. This way, if someone didn't piece together the weird chapter titles, the specified numbers and number-letter strings, and/or the odd names of people and places, they'd be able to double-back and see them as clues. They are put there purely as a storytelling clue for the audience. As you can tell, the tarot references increased with each chapter…almost like someone is trying to get your attention…

[the framed painting] - a reference to The High Priestess, aka card II of the tarot. This card is indicative of intuition and looking within, and can signal to mysteries at hand or a higher power at work. The pillars on the card are (hilariously enough) marked with a B and J, and are in black and white, respectively. They stand for Boaz (Strength) and Jachin (Establishment), and are meant to represent the duality of nature, good/evil, masculine/femine, etc. Naturally, both pillars are equal. In this depiction, it is both relating to “the player’s” own duality, with the ability to be flexible as Bruce and John and have both good and bad decisions play through the story, and as a strong hint to a higher power being present.

8-9-6-3 [candle puzzle] - It takes a bit to work out by sorting through the alphabetic values to each number, but it doesn’t make a complete word. On ye olde phone keypad, 1 is always null in value, so it’s always unlit in the candle sequence, and since there are 4 other numbers present we know it doesn’t count as part of the string. (If there were only 3, you could guess a year from your notes.) My idea for the “game” specs of this part would be that the key-code would be somewhat randomized, either using a specific year (if Tiffany and/or Iman are not present, this is *always* the case, as you have to utilize your background notes and the candles by yourself), a few translated letter combinations just for fun, or an occasional number-card type combo, as presented here. (In some lucky scenarios, “the player” doesn’t have to solve the candle puzzle, since Tiffany can figure out the year by herself and just call you over when she opens the door. You still have the option of looking around, though!) In this case, the values are another tarot-themed hint, using the card number first: 8-w-n-d, for the 8 of Wands, which alludes to quick actions. AKA “Get ready for quick-time events!!!”

"looking more like the king on the throne than a judge" - Meant to allude to The Emperor card, the ultimate royal symbol in the major arcana and always depicted with a king. Traditionally this symbolizes power, authority, control, etc., but when reversed it alludes to overbearingness, arrogance, and chaos. For the Owls, they would likely see themselves as the upright depictions, even when presented upside down before the person doing their reading… And here is no better example, with the Reverend Overfield taking place as the ultimate authority over the Court.

"like [Sonja] had a say in commanding the room" - Alluding to The Empress, in conjunction with Rev’s position, this card alludes to femininity, motherhood, nurturing, creativity, and/or abundance. When reversed, it stands for neglect, creative blocks, overbearing, and/or uncaring. Sonja is a good example of an overbearing mother, trying to make decisions for her child because she thinks she knows best - thus fits the reversed reading well.

[Courtroom layout] - How curious is it that I haven't referenced The Devil when we have so many opportunities? That's because I strove to show this card rather than reference it overtly. The Devil card depicts El Diablo in the upper middle, lording over the card, with two souls chained to him at the bottom. The classic depiction shows a female demon-like human on one side and a male demon-like human on the other. As such, Rev. Sebastian sits on the high bench as the judge, overlooking the courtroom, and Sonja and Evan sit beneath him, one embedded on each side of the lower bench, sitting before him rather than beside him. Naturally, The Devil card represents temptation, manipulation, and materialism (though not necessarily of physical things). There is nothing more suited to The Devil card than the Reverend Sebastian Overfield and the Talons.

Circe | Cindy Peterson - Circe was the original Black Mask's downfall, or at least serious decent into who would be Black Mask. In her origin, she was a model who seduced Roman and ended up being blamed for his poor business choices, as he completely revolved Janus Inc.'s new direction around her image, somewhat at her insistence. Roman seemed to love her, but grew vengeful when she dumped him. She was named Circe, after the witch who lured men to their doom. In this story, she plays a much less active role but ultimately still serves as Roman's downfall, though in a very different way. : she does seem to care about Roman, going so far as to hide him on her yacht, not rat him out for his overt gang activities, and even leave Gotham with him for good to run from Batman despite not being in a relationship with him for long. But Bruce is able to spin this to his advantage, openly lying that she was working for him undercover and twisting Roman's affection for her into paranoid doubt, which he eventually lashed out with and ended up being caught because of. Circe never got a ~proper~ name in the original canon, so I dubbed her Cindy. The name "Cindy" can be boiled down to “person from Kynthos” and since Circe is Greek… Well, it fits well enough!

"[…]waltzing into the danger-zone without his wingman" - It’s Top Gun's “You can be my wingman anytime”, but with ALL the homoerotic implications!

"the Degnah Club" - The Degnah Club can be inferred to be one of Roman Sionis’ clubs, or just one his False-Face Society visited on occasion, but the event that happened there is implied to have taken place before the start of the story. “Degnah” when written backwards is “hanged”, referencing the Hanged Man card. When upright, this card means sacrifice and selfless acts. When reversed, as very much implied here, it’s an unnecessary sacrifice. This is both a play on what Roman’s implying – which is likely a very violent event – being an “unnecessary sacrifice” as part of Matt Chaney’s greater scheme for the Court of Owls, and as an allusion to Matt’s fate, where his morals/good choices/old law-abiding life were thrown away for an inevitably failed pursuit.

"[Tiffany | Robin's] personal count of 13" - The 13th card in the tarot is Death, bringer of change and ender of cycles. It’s also a traditionally unlucky number. This number is the “body-count” of Tiffany’s run through the Court so far. Does it reference the end of the Court's latest cycle, or something else…?

Accompanying the Tarot, as mentioned earlier I also tied in other fortune-telling methods, with the counting of crows and reference to the zodiacal horoscope. I also threw in allusions to luck, with The Lucky Hotel and The Lot (in both name and the fact that it's a casino). This is all tied entirely around the concept of fate and being able to change it with the choices you have made or currently make as "the player". Luck itself has nothing to do with your choices and the fates you guide Bruce and John to, and it's not something "the player" can control - it's an illusion, with things seemingly lucky for our heroes having already been written in on purpose to lead to the next event. It's essentially a long, drawn-out joke.

Talons/Reverend's Owl Masks - I wanted the Talons to be set apart from the rest of the Court and have special owl faces. The Court's owl masks are as follows:

○ Talon Adam - Great Horned Owl; chosen for the owl's large size and hunting ability, as well as the protruding "horn" feathers mimicking Batman's cowl. This is the most common owl used in media. The "horns" are meant to clue the reader into the culprit early on. Adam's a Batman-fan, so he mimicked Bats' style.

○ Talon Sonja - Snowy Owl; chosen for the owl's fairly elegant feather pattern and Sonja's ~colder~ personality. Sonja had a masquerade one to show her "humane" side to prospective Owls, but always wears a full-faced mask for the rest of the Court.

○ Talon Evan - Barn Owl; chosen for it's ghost-like face and screeching call, and it's hunting skills. They sometimes are seen as bad omens. While Adam was a mysterious stalker, Evan is overtly dangerous upon appearance, in no due part to his temper.

○ Reverend Sebastian Overfield - Eastern Screech Owl; this owl is smaller than the other, but has similar "horn" feathers to the Great Horned, and a gray face. The "horns" are meant to be another a mirror to Batman, but can be considered another allusion to The Devil. It isn't the largest or flashiest owl of the bunch, but Sebastian has the most power of all the Court members.

[The "Justice" bell-toll] - traditionally, a church bell tolls to signify someone passing into death. In the Court/Church of Mercy's case, they use a bell rung at midnight to signify a complete "trial" and a carry-out of their own brand of "justice"…which also culminates in death. The "trial" shown in this chapter is a rarity, as the offenders are actually present to get a talking-to before their sentencing - generally, the Church will hold a mock-trial to decide the fates of the perpetrators…after some previous counseling with Talons and select older members. (Think of the Trial like a ceremonial conference for the majority of the time.)

Chapter 12: Ten Cheers to the World!

[title] - The act of cheering, aka toasting, is to raise a cup and drink towards someone or something in celebration or tribute. Here, it's referring to the tarot's Ten (X) of Cups, which is pretty much the best card you could pull in a reading - when upright, as it is here, it means celebration, fulfillment, and happiness! The World card is the final card in the Major Arcana, encapsulating completion, accomplishment, and harmony, all from inner and outer sources. It might seem redundant at first, but the Cups suite in the Minor Arcana is all in regards to emotions, relationships, and love; in comparison, the Major Arcana represents a journey from innocence and ignorance to wisdom and completion. So you have an emotional celebration with fulfilling relationships, and the story's path marked as complete in both a literal and figurative sense.

"An accident at Ace Chemicals" [Iman & John's convo] - Referencing the majority of Joker origins, wherein pre-Joker fell into the vat of chemicals at Ace Chemicals and survived, leading to a psychotic breakdown due to his changed appearance and/or the circumstances around to what led him to Ace Chemicals in the first place.

"the string of deaths in the Velestra mafia" [Iman & John's convo] - a ref to the former mafia/main antagonists in Batman: Mask of the Phantom that kept getting killed off one by one by the Phantom. Whether The Phantom exists in this world…we'll have to wait and see, I guess!

"an unrecoverable ‘data loss’ at the Agency" [Iman & John's convo] - not a reference to canon, but my own theory on a potential background for John being a former Agent…(see further below)

"Et tu, Peeps?" - a riff on "Et tu, Brute?", Julius Ceasar's last words as he was betrayed and stabbed to death.

"Maybe I was someone in the wrong place at the wrong time" / "someone at the right place at the wrong time" [John monologue] - Another reference to the most popular background choice, the Ace Chemical origin story, and it’s variations. Though probably lacking Batsy’s involvement, considering the timeframe…

"Maybe I was some experiment gone wrong" [John monologue] - A reference to a different author's Season 3 replacement fanfic, where John ended up being a genetically modified human/test tube baby. Unfortunately the work got deleted from Ao3??? And my bookmark is gone, so I can't name the fic… But I still remember you, Unknown Author!!! It was a fun story and I've never forgotten that twist!!!! \( >o< )/

"Maybe I was even an Agent, like you" [John monologue] - My own little theory as to why the Agency was so keen on getting him for the Suicide Squad – and why he was considered a dangerous part of the gang despite not doing too much of interest in Season 1 (even if you consider the theory that he was helping Lady Arkham get her chemicals/drugs) – was that he was part of the Agency somehow. Either an agent who screwed up on the job, a rogue agent that escaped death via Agency trap…or maybe a guy who knew too much! But it's a fun, fresh idea to bring to Joker's multi-choice past, right? (( ;w;)) <(please say yes)

hippocampus - The region(s) of the brain that primarily deals with memory.

[the photo] - I wanted to leave it up to the reader/"player" to decide what kind of pre-Arkham past the TellTale!Joker has… So whether you think the picture Iman has is a "real" photo of him or not is entirely up to you.

"[…]'you're the moon to my sun'" [John, 'paraphrasing' Bruce] - In Tarot terms, this is a reference to the Sun card, representing joy, success, and masculinity, as well as another reference to the Moon card. One can also interpret the Sun card as "success in overcoming your obstacles or fears". As the Moon card can represent inner fears and femininity, it's a fitting opposite for interpreting this romantic line. While Bruce doesn't exactly embody the "positivity" and "joy" that this card represents, he brings that feeling into John's life, and Bruce is more traditionally masculine in contrast to John. This is also an overt use of the phrase "[they're] the moon to their sun" - a romantic notion that one person, though the opposite to the other, is completely complementary, like a One True Love. TeamFourStar's playthrough of TellTale Batman: The Enemy Within had not one, but TWO mentions of the "moon to [their] sun" line, the second of which was referring to John and Bruce. This one's for you, fellas!!! ( ^3^)

○ Funnily enough, The Moon is a very broadly interpreted card. Sometimes it's not a good card to have because deception, manipulation, illusion, and mystery/confusion are all potentially at work in your life. Sometimes it's an excellent card, because it tells you examine your feelings to resolve a problem, or tells you that you aren't seeing the whole picture. The reversed of the card is often attributed to avoidance of one's problems and further confusion, but also clarity, truth, and the full view of what's going on. If John is the embodiment of The Moon in the upright position, then I say Bruce is that of the Reversed Moon…

"[…] two lovers against the world" - Another classic romantic phrase that can be turned into a Tarot reference. The original phrase is meaning two romantic partners are pitted against "the world"/external forces that threaten to tear them apart, but they are committed to each other regardless. You can't really pit cards against each other in a reading, but you can read Past-Present-Future. In which case, in story terms, The Fool is always the Past, The Lovers is the Present here, and The World is the Future. As mentioned earlier, The World represents harmony and completion - if reversed, it would mean incompletion and chaos. The Lovers card is representing a strong union being forged between two people, very often romantic in terms of the Tarot. The meaning is usually attributed to decisions in a relationship being made (whether to start a new one, or to deepen the one you have), but it can also represent people outright, as well as an indication that a new partnership/relationship is on the way. When reversed, Lovers represents disharmony, imbalance, or a loss of relationship. In our story, of course, our two lovers are representing the upright reading of the card in the Present, showing as a strong couple. As it's "against", it implies that The World is something that will be a challenge, so it's likely Reversed. Which is a pretty good representation of Gotham in general, isn't it? lol~

○ The Lovers can also be seen symbolically in chapters 8 and 9, when Bruce and John are laying opposite each other and linking pinkies/holding hands at the hotel. :)

○ John uses the romantic line regardless of whether he's a vigilante or not! If you didn't get the Best Ending, aka our Sleepover Ending, Bruce would wind up back in the parlor with John as usual, and once the rest of the fam are gone (if they were there at all), he uses it to describe themselves. In the villain route, Bruce and John converse in the Batmobile on the way back to Arkham, and John uses the line there, too. ;3c

○ Naturally, you don't really get this complete scene if "your" Bruce is with Selina in the vigilante route.

Ending Type - …it's not a tarot reference or anything specific. I just wanted to let you know that you can ONLY get the Sleepover Ending if you have Tiffany and John in Bruce's party on good terms with each other AND with Bruce.

○ You can drive Tiffy away from Bruce by saying she shouldn't be with them at the Court Battle, but also by generally not believing in her/being mean and giving a neutral reaction to her staying during Battle; she won't go back to the cave with Bruce, so you don't get a chance to speak to her directly afterwards as either character. (John can still have his conversation with her via text, and they can still end on the same terms.)

○ If you don't have vigilante!John, there's no one else to help lift the things, so Tiffy's idea is never brought up.

○ John is always simping desperate for Bruce's attention, so even if you don't treat him as well in a platonic relationship, he'll still be there for this Ending type. ;_;

○ If you have a Romanced!Selina in your party, Selina will join you in both Court Battle and the Ending as seen in this story. It'll either cause her to take Iman's place (if she is not present) or to have extra spot suddenly appear above the rest of the group. Like Tiffy, she overheats and needs more space too cool off.

§ You can also talk to her as John, and sort of makeup/say your part of the team now. (But John will still be somewhat jealous of the attention she gets.)

§ John doesn't get the emotional hug with Bruce if Selina is around - especially since she doesn't temporarily leave with Tiffany and Iman - but the conversation is almost the same.

§ Naturally you can talk to her as Bruce, too. I don't think on her options too much, but they'll likely talk about change and what it means to have this "job" and internalizing too much of their emotions/themselves.

§ If you and Selina are only friends, Selina can join you in the Court Battle, but will text you instead of sticking around.

1:06 A.M & [Clock time on Belltower in Chapter 11] - Bruce's sense of time is off, which is why he's surprised it's after 1AM and not closer to 2AM. (Can't blame him, he was unconscious for a while and a whole bunch of stuff happened.) I figured if Bruce broke out of his kidnapping ropes at 10PM sharp, and drove all the way to the GCPD, that's about 20-30 minutes in his supercharged car, if not a little less, plus with 5 minutes to escape proper. If we think GCPD is sort of a halfway point to Old Gotham/The Coventry district, it's another 15 minutes to there. So he'd arrive at the Church of Mercy before 11PM, and wait John for around another 10-15 minutes, including with all the investigating inside. The "trial" scene probably took another 10 minutes until Batman crashed it, and fight scenes seem long because of all the action going on, but by the time Bruce and co' leave, it's not 12AM yet. The bell-tower in the Church of Mercy is actually off by about 20 minutes… And what do you know, card XX (20) of the tarot's Major Arcana is Judgement, alluding to karma at work! It can also be attributed to a life change. ;D

"11:43:20PM" - this wasn't deliberately meant to allude to anything. It took the batfam about 2 minutes from the last toll to leave the church. Bells' tolling speed is varying between clocks and towers, but you can estimate about 30-45 seconds for a full twelve. If it rang at 11:40 exactly, then…ugh, this is sounding like math homework.

Epilogue:

[Still a WIP, so will be updated after it's uploaded! Shouldn't have much, though! Saay, isn't there a Major Arcana card missing? (9v9) I wonder what that iiiiis~]

So that was [just about] all of them! I had a lot of fun weaving them throughout the story this time, especially with the story's themes! AtBoM didn't have as nearly as many, so they weren't really worth mentioning before.

I hope this was helpful to those of you who were interested in diving beneath the surface of BtTTS: TToJ~!

#ttoj #ttoj reference guide #telltale batman #batman the telltale series #tarot cards #I made it a goal to use all the Major Arcana!#fortune-telling #it took me a month to compile this whole guide #I had notes scattered between my Word doc and google doc #hopefully this wasn't too hard to read #even if no one got any of these i'm satisfied!#they were really fun to write!!#edit: corrected Eric's last name (my bad)

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myhockeyworld87 · 4 years

Text

Not So Dangerous Liaison - Sidney Crosby - Part 2

Word Count: 3,430

POV: Sidney’s

Warnings: Adult Language

Notes: Here’s part 2 in the Crosby saga. Thanks to everyone who read it and sent in encouraging words. Glad you all enjoyed it. More to come soon!

It seemed like a decent plan, avoid (Y/N) at all costs; though it proved to be harder than you anticipated. You walked into the practice arena, early as usual, and there she was, all bright-eyed and smiling. She was standing there on her cell scrolling through something. It was hard to take your eyes off her as she was wearing a cute pair of leggings with a jacket all the coaches wore, though she had sneakers on instead of skates. The sides of her hair were pulled backed, but her long waves flowed over her shoulders and your fingers itched to touch it and find out if it was as soft as it looked. Shaking yourself, you looked away to regain some composure, and that's when she saw you.

"Hey, Sid." Her smile was as bright as the sun and part of you wondered why she didn't hate you after that first night.

"Hi (Y/N), you're here early."

"Yeah, I didn't think it would make a very good impression to be late on the first day." She was bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, obviously full of excitement. It was both adorable and somewhat contagious. "Speaking of which, do you have that paper from yesterday?"

Shit! You'd honestly tried to fill it out last night, though every single time you looked at it; you thought of the way she looked standing in the film room, or how her eye sparkled just like they were now. "Uh…well umm."

"Don't worry, you can always bring it to me tonight?" You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, not at the comment, but the fact that you'd be seeing her every day until the end of the season.

"Yeah, I'll do that." Somehow you didn't want the conversation to end just yet, so you found yourself saying, "So how do you like things so far?"

"Well, it's still early, considering I think I've only technically been on the clock for like thirty minutes." She giggled and you found yourself smiling at the sound. "But so far so good. I really think it's going to be a lot of fun." Fun for her maybe, because right now you were in sheer torture, just being in her presence.

"Ah…that's good, really good." You adjusted the rim of your hat, before adding. "Well you know if you need anything you can always call me." Ugh, why had you just said that? You were willingly volunteering yourself to help her out, that was anything but avoiding her like you originally planned.

"Awe, thanks, Sid. I really appreciate that."

You stood there for a full minute not knowing what to do or say before you heard someone come up behind you. "Wow, Sid, you're not on the ice yet?" It was Flower's teasing voice that caught both yours and (Y/N)'s attention, and he was right, by the time he usually showed up, you'd normally done a few warmup laps.

"Oh wow, I'm sorry Sid. I didn't mean to keep you." (Y/N) was really too sweet and part of you hated to see the interlude end, but Flower's words reminded you that she was nothing but a distraction.

"You didn't...I mean I'm just as much at fault."

"Here's my form (Y/N), I may not have been the first one turning it in," Flower said while nudging you. "But I at least hope I get an A for punctuality."

"Well, you just so happen to be the first, so I'll give you an A+." She said with a cute little wink to the goalie. Suddenly, you were wishing you'd done that paper last night.

"Woah, you mean to tell me I beat Mr. Perfect here. Where's your head at man?" It would be wrong to say daydreaming of the woman in front of you; so you just shrugged and headed off to the locker room.

You were just finishing lacing your skates when Marc-Andre entered, having finished his chat with (Y/N). "You've got it bad; don't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Come on man, don't play dumb with me. I know all the signs." He was shoving his bag in his cubby and throwing on his equipment. "Stupid ass grin on your face. Fair off look. Do you want me to continue?" You rolled your eyes at him while making a pfting noise. "You can't fool me. I know you like (Y/N). But what I want to know is why didn't you call her at the start of the season?"

There was no way you could lie to one of your best friends, he'd see right through you. It was just easier, to tell the truth. "She's too much of a distraction man. I just need to focus on hockey. Besides, playoffs start in a little over a week."

"Well, you should've got her out of your system before now, because we are going to be seeing a lot of her from here on out." Flower was right, you were definitely going to be seeing a lot more of (Y/N), and since avoidance didn't seem to be working; you were definitely going to need a new plan.

You blew out a long breath. "Any ideas what I can do?"

"Hmmm…if it was me; I'd channel that energy into hockey." If it was only that easy. "Skate a little faster or hit the puck a little harder when you think of her." Well, it was an option, and hopefully, it was one that would work.

"It's worth a try." Thankfully, when you headed back out to the rink (Y/N) was nowhere in sight, which made focusing on hockey a bit easier. She appeared about midway through practice and instead of concentrating on her, you did exactly as Flower said. What was surprising, was that it seemed to work. Your passes were a little crisper, and pucks seemed to find an easy way into the net, maybe this wasn't going to be so bad.

Well until you were running the last drill and saw her talking to Beau again. It took every ounce of will power, not to break your stick in two. It seemed like every time there was a get-together, Beau was always by her side. It grated on your nerves and you found yourself, attacking the puck with a bit more force than normal. By the time practice was over, she was again gone, to your relief. There were only four more games left in the regular season, and the last home game was tonight. You kept telling yourself if you could just make it through this initial period of adjustment, you'd be fine since playoffs would literally consume all your time.

It was about five hours later that you were rethinking things again. Of course, she was at the arena when you arrived, only this time she wasn't sporting her cute active look. Dressed in a short black skirt and matching jacket, she belted the outfit to accentuate her curves. She either had on a black lace cami underneath or black lace bra, whichever it was it had you dying to see what lay underneath the fabric. A pair of black heels showed over her legs to perfection as she walked down the hallway, looking more like she was ready to take the boardroom by storm than to watch a hockey game.

"Hey Sid, did you happen to bring that form?"

Fuck, that damn paper was the bane of your existence at the moment. "No sorry, I forgot it again."

"No biggie, if you could just give me who you want to be called in case of an injury that's the main thing I need."

"Yeah sure…I mean definitely my parents."

She handed over her phone then for you to put in their information. "Don't worry I'll only call them if necessary, just don't want them worrying."

"Oh yeah of course." You handed the phone back to her, vaguely wondering if your number was in there and how at the same time you could get hers.

"Well, I won't take up any more of your time." She said, patting you on the shoulder. "I know you have pregame rituals and all. Good luck tonight."

"Thanks," and with that she headed off, leaving you standing there, still hypnotized by her. The scent of her perfume still lingered in the air and you found yourself just breathing it in a minute longer before moving to the locker room. Focus, you told yourself. You were not going to be distracted by her.

Once more of the guys started filing in, it was a bit easier to forget about the gorgeous woman, roaming around the arena somewhere. It seemed to be business as usual. You made yourself the same sandwich as you always did, got taped up and played a little warmup soccer. It was only when the ball bounced out of the circle, and you turned to retrieve it, knocking your hat off in the process, that you saw her again, as the ball landed at her feet. "Wow, my grandma can play better than that boys." She teased, dropping the ball only to kick it with her heeled feet back into play. She bent down and picked up your lucky hat in the process as well. Everyone knew that your snapback was pretty much sacred and didn't touch it. It was also disgustingly filthy as you never washed it being the superstitious fuck that you were. "Wouldn't want to lose this." She stated, handing it back over with a cute little wink, as her hand touched yours.

"Uh, yeah…thanks." There was this electricity when she touched you and for a second you didn't want to let go. But then you pulled back suddenly as if you'd been burnt. Luckily, she was called away by one of the social media staff and went back to the soccer game. Normally, you'd be freaking yourself out a bit after the whole hat fiasco, but instead, you kept thinking of Flower's advice and how you would just channel everything into the game.

Halfway through the first, you thought you were fighting a losing battle and that (Y/N) had really jinxed you, in more ways than one. Everything changed though, on a hooking penalty to the Flyers. About thirty seconds into it, on a great pass from Phil, you took all that pent-up frustration out on a slap shot, sending the puck into the back of the net. From there the rest of the night was a magical ending to the regular season at home, where the Pens came out victorious.

As you stepped off the ice, you kept looking for (Y/N) but she was nowhere to be found. You weren't sure why you wanted to see her, maybe it was the superstitious side of you, feeling as though you had a new ritual where she had to touch your hat in order for you to have a great game, or maybe there was just a part of you that really wanted to see her. The latter being something you didn't want to examine too closely, yet she was nowhere around. You finished up your post-game interviews and then headed home for the night, as you had to be up early for a flight to Ottawa.

You were actually surprised that she wasn't at the airport before you in the morning, though she wasn't far behind you. It seemed she had a penchant for being early, just as you did. As she entered the plane you could see her hesitance as to where she should sit, and part of you was a bit disappointed that you had a standard seat with Flower for every away game. Of course, it was Beau who offered her a seat beside him and before the engine started you could hear the two of them laughing about something. The sound grating on your nerves.

By the time the plane landed, you were cranky and irritable from straining to listen to the two of them. You couldn't imagine, why (Y/N) was getting off the bus first once you were at the hotel. Normally, one of the staffers went and got all the keys, and then you just grabbed one as everyone went inside. It must be a new part of her job or something. She hopped back on a few short minutes later, walking down the aisle, handing certain keys to people. It seemed strange, but you didn't really question it.

Finally being allowed off the bus, you headed up to your room, and upon entering flung yourself on the bed and took a nice long nap. You'd been too keyed up from the win to get a good night's sleep, and planned on napping on the plane. Only you'd constantly heard Beau and (Y/N) chit-chatting the entire time. It was about three hours later when you headed down for a meeting with the team. Everyone seemed to be talking about how great their stay was so far, which didn't really make a ton of sense to you. You'd stayed in this hotel dozens of times over the years and there wasn't anything remarkable about it.

Phil and Rusty were discussing just this subject when you sat down at the table. "So what did you get in your room?" Phil asked.

"What?"

"You know, like what did (Y/N) have in there for you?" Christ, what was he talking about? You'd literally walked in, threw your bag down, and slept. It wasn't as if she'd left a present in there for you. The confusion on your face must have given you away, for Phil kept going then. "Well, she had extra pillows in there for me, so I didn't end up having to call down like I do every time and there was a special box filled with my favorite protein bars and stuff."

"Shears and I got extra towels because the guy uses like twenty, no lie; and then she had peanut M&M and stuff in there for me." Rusty chimed in. "Didn't you have one?"

"How would she even know what I like?"

"The form man, didn't you fill it out?" Rusty countered as if you actually knew what was on it.

You grabbed your neck, hoping to stop the blush that was creeping up, before saying. "Um…no. I kind of forgot about it."

Phil just shook his head at you, giving you a side smirk at the same time. "Did you even look at it?"

"Um…not really."

"What's the deal with you and her anyway?" He added.

"There's no deal there."

"No kidding, but you've been giving her the cold shoulder ever since she took this job." This time it was Rusty who called you out.

"I'm just not falling all over her like some people are." Well, maybe you'd tried your best to avoid her at first, but you didn't feel like you were snubbing her by any means.

"Wow, no need to get all defensive," Phil commented and you realized your voice might have been a bit harsher than you intended. "We're just pointing out that you haven't treated her like you do other new staffers."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well when Sara started as JR's new secretary, you sent her flowers. I noticed you didn't do that with (Y/N)." There was no way you could argue with Rusty because it was true; you didn't send flowers to (Y/N) as you had in the past to welcome new recruits. You usually signed it from the entire team as well. "And before you even ask, I know because there weren't any in her office when I dropped off my form." Now you felt like an ass, though it wasn't like you could rectify the situation on the road. "Luckily Kelsey sent her something from us."

"A couple of the guys and I were talking about taking her out to dinner in DC. Sort of like a welcome to the group kind of thing."

"Perfect, I'll just tag along with you guys, Phil." He raised an eyebrow at you and so you added. "And order the flowers when we get back."

"Deal, but since you fucked up; you can pay."

"Fine." It was really the least you could do crashing their dinner and all, plus it would be easier to be with (Y/N) in a group setting than in a one on one environment.

"Oh, one more thing." You cocked your head at your teammate. "You can invite her."

Fuck. It was really the only thing going through your mind, as you groaned inwardly. "Alright."

"No better time like the present," Rusty said, motioning to the doorway where (Y/N) just walked through. Phil elbowed you as well in order to get you to go over to her. Reluctantly, you got up to ask her to dinner with everyone.

"Hey (Y/N), can I have a minute?"

"Sure, what's up?" She moved off to the side and you couldn't help but notice the sway of her hips.

"So um…like…I wanted to know if you wanted to…um…go out to dinner when we get to DC?" God, that was horrible. You sounded like a babbling idiot, and you forgot to mention it was with other guys on the team and that it was to welcome her.

"I really…" She started to answer and you cut her off short.

"With the team, to welcome you of course." Did that even make sense?

"Oh well, yeah sure that's really nice of you guys. It's not really necessary though."

"I want to…I mean we want to." Why did you feel so tongued tied all of the sudden around her? You had stumbled a bit around her that first at Flower's but then things had gone so well. Then again, you weren't afraid of her throwing you off track of all your goals then.

"Ok, it sounds like fun."

"Great, we can work out the details later." You made a move to leave because just being around her, you found it hard to breathe, but she stopped you.

"Sid, I hope you're ok with your room and stuff. I wasn't exactly sure what you liked since I didn't have your form."

That damn fucking form was literally going to be the bane of your existence, and the fact that you hadn't paid attention to anything in the room didn't really help. "Oh yeah, it's fine. Thanks. I'll get that form to you, once we get back."

She shrugged and cocked her head to the side as if somehow reading your thoughts. Though she didn't voice what those were. "No problem, just get it to me whenever. Let me know if you need anything." With that she walked away, seeming somewhat annoyed.

Had you said the wrong thing to her. An uneasiness settled in your stomach; it was something you didn't want to explore. As soon as the meeting was over, you headed back up to your room, to see exactly what she had done. You unlocked the door, looking at the room with a whole different view. The bed was still a mess, but you could tell that there was an abundance of pillows there; it was something that you didn't notice when you'd napped before. Going into the bathroom, you saw that just like Rusty, your room had extra towels in as well. As you wandered back into the main room, you saw a basket sitting on the desk. The inside was filled with some of your favorite things. Candies from your hometown in Novia Scotia, your favorite protein bars and drinks, and so much more. Though one thing stood out above everything else, a book on Egyptian history. It was something you both talked about that first night. There was also a handwritten note tucked inside.

'Sid, I wasn't exactly sure what would make your away games a bit easier but thought maybe some of this would help. Hopefully, the view will relax you before the big game. If not I thought you'd enjoy this book on the Pyramids as much as I did. Let me know if you need anything at all. - (Y/N)'

Now you knew that it wasn't an annoyed look on her face, but one of disappointment; for you truly felt like an asshole for not having noticed any of the special things she'd done for you and the entire team. You were going to need more than just dinner to make things right with (Y/N) that was for sure.

#Not So Dangerous Liaison Series #Sidney Crosby #sidney crosby imagine #Sidney Crosby Imagines #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction

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sunmaylight · 3 years

Text

TGCF Book 3 Reaction pt.3 - Wind Master’s Self-Designated Quest & The Events that Happen After

I am back again with reactions & comments for when I read book 3.

This is honestly fun for me because I can look back at what I read and remember my first reaction to everything. I can also see how things connect to make up each arc by going back and reading them.

I really want to start book 4, but completing this first so I compose myself and not be a mess of emotions reading it. Cause, any book that is mainly about Xie Lian’s past is bound to be filled with angst and possible tears for the guy.

Ch 102: The Love for All Seasons Stew, the stew Xie Lian made and Shi Qingxuan is enthusiastically wanting to try some, shares with Ming Yi. Hua Cheng eats it like nothing and gives Xie Lian feedback

- Me: Ah, RIP Shi Qingxuan and Ming Yi. It was nice knowing you two.

Start of the Venerable of Empty Words

Ch 103: The stew knocks out Ming Yi and sends Shi Qingxuan to tears. Then Shi Qingxuan hallucinates

- Me: You know, by this point Xie Lian should have his own warning label to prevent this from happening in the future. What if he made something for Jun Wu and kills him with his cooking? Actually, that sounds pretty funny. This just in: Heavenly Emperor Jun Wu defeated by a plate of questionable food made by his favorite Heavenly Official, Xie Lian.

103: Shi Qingxuan tells a horror story. Xie Lian feels a cold breeze and discovers it’s made by SQX.

- Ah, I think I’m understanding more that Heavenly Officials are really eccentric. Especially the upper court.

Xie Lian casually mentioning he has encountered a Venerable of Empty Words in the past and how that ghost left him after staying with the fallen god for almost a year.

- Me: *sobs* Xie Lian.

Wind Master talking about his past before ascension and then post ascension

- Me: Okay, but did you actually ascend?

Learns about Heavenly Calamities

- Me: Well, that will surely be relevant in the future.

105: Investigating for the Ghost. Learns that from a tampered list that Hua Cheng killed vengeful, malevolent tyrants

- Me: Hua Cheng, who else have you killed? How the fu-dge is it that you are more productive than Heavenly Officials in making sure nothing bad happens?

As the group was going to leave, Xie Lian remembers the kids (& Qi Rong).

Hua Cheng: I have already called a babysitter. Don’t worry about a thing Gege.

106: The group was teleported to the wrong place.

- Me: Well, aren’t things starting out just lovely.

Hua Cheng changed clothes and Xie Lian Noticed.

Hua Cheng & Xie Lian exchange verbal communication passwords. Hua Cheng’s password has Xie Lian blushing.

- Me: WHAT IS IT?

Xie Lian’s password: “Just recite the Ethics Sutra a thousand times.”

- Me: ...Is that a joke? Xie Lian, if they actually had to recite that, it’s like saying you don’t want people to talk to you.

Xie Lian’s password is revealed to be just that phrase. He set it up as a joke

- Me: goddamnit. I have been bamboozled.

Learning about the legend of the Potential Scholar He, who was mad smart but got a lot of people wanting to crush him out of jealousy. He died after getting his revenge against those who were gatekeeping him.

- Me: HI! WHERE IS THE SHRINE FOR THIS GUY. I NEED A SHRINE TO WORSHIP SCHOLAR HE AS WELL AS A CERTAIN DIANXIA AND HUA CHENGZU

Xie Lian and Hua Cheng now have to play Mafia in a four man group.

Ch 108: A game to sniff out the Word Ghost. The game reminds me of the Japanese Game, King’s Game.

- Me: Is there a Chinese equivalent to the King’s Game?

SQX -’king’- Xie Lian and Hua Cheng have to strip each other. Just one layer

- Me: If this was me to my crush, I would be weirded out to do this in front of my friends. Unless if I was drunk

SQX to Hua Cheng (from the book): “What’s the worse suffering in the world?”

Hua Cheng: “To watch with your own eyes your beloved be trampled and ridiculed, yet unable to do anything. That’s the worse suffering in the world.”

- Me: (ToT) Hua Cheng. I got to mark this down. Hua Cheng’s beloved and him need their happy ending.

Ming Yi to Xie Lian: “What’s the biggest regret of your life?”

Xie Lian: “My Second Ascension.”

- Me: !!! Xie Lian, what the F*CK happened during the shortest ascension recorded in Heaven?

Ch 109: Hua Cheng lends Xie Lian a ‘bit’ of spiritual power. Xie Lian does a palm thrust and blows off the roof of the temple.

- Xie Lian & Me: ...Hua Cheng, that’s a little bit?

Hua Cheng: Was that not enough? I can lend you more.

Ch 110: Hua Cheng puts on a mini fashion show to Xie Lian in the middle of something important.

Xie Lian: *focus is pulled away to stare at Hua Cheng*

- Me: Okay. Cute, but please focus. There is a time and place for everything. Now is not the time!

Water Master is suppose to prepare for the third Heavenly Calamity. SQX is kidnapped

- Me: What if this is the third calamity? Having to save SQX from the Venerable of Empty Words?

Xie Lian wants to do a soul-shifting spell, but Hua Cheng is stopping him.

- Me: Hm, does Hua Cheng know something? That is suspicious.

Ch 111: Venerable of Empty Words says: “Don’t worry, with your eyes wide open, you will watch the person coming to seek you die before you!”

- Me: *Thinks of Hua Cheng for Xie Lian* Shit, it got to Xie Lian. I really hope this doesn’t happen in the future. Cause, it’s not like Hua Cheng can die by conventional means since his ashes are ***** - Safe

Wind Master is revealed to be wearing a lot of treasures and gems on their person

- Me: Why is Wind Master wearing all of that?

Soul-Shifting spell ends, Xie Lian hears Hua Cheng’s voice

- Oh shit. I think Hua Cheng is mad.

SQX: “This is the Terrace of Cascading Wine. It’s where I ascended”

- Me: Wait, SQX is one of the Four Famous Tales? The odd one that is like Qi Rong that is about a guy who ascended for just pouring wine?

Learns that Xie Lian was actually sleeping when he ascended.

- Which ascension did that happen at?

SQX is in hysteria after Shi Wudu grabs him. SQX was acting suspicious before then SWD arrived.

- Me: Wow, what happened to SQX? D-did he actually fail his Heavenly Calamity and this is part of the punishment? Do Heavenly Officials get an advance notice that they have a Heavenly Calamity they have to face? Or is he behaving like this because of the removal of all of those artifacts and jewels?

-----

Ch 113: Hua Cheng sent a step-litter, a step-litter that is very extravagant, to Xie Lian. Hua Cheng is giving Xie Lian a fancy carriage ride towards somewhere.

- Me: Wow. What an obvious sign that Hua Cheng has deep feelings for Xie Lian

The whole Step-Litter Scene of Ghost calling Xie Lian Hua Cheng’s ‘lady’ while he was in the Step-Litter and everything after until they drop Xie Lian off at Puqi Shrine

- Me: THIS NEEDS TO BE ANIMATED

Xie Lian’s new banner: “Return Babes through Miraculous Hands”

- No words

Hua Cheng helping Xie Lian do a task of working in the field. There is an indescribable tension that has been created through Xie Lian’s dense brain

- Me: Man, you can slice the tension with a sword and they still wouldn’t realize anything.

Xie Lian has a mysterious donor who filled his donation box with gold bars. He decides to return them

- Me: Yes, good for you Xie Lian. You do you.

The Drama between the Wind and Water Masters

- Me: You know, there is someone on YouTube who animated this part. I can now only visualize that while reading through my notes.

Earth Master forged his shovel to be his spiritual device. Ming Yi, Shi Qingxuan and Xie Lian travel through the tunnels dug by the Earth Master’s Shovel under Heaven

- Me: Wait, does this mean technically anything can be made into a spiritual device?

SQX can’t access his spiritual powers

- Me: shit. Did he actually fail a Heavenly Trial against Reverend of Empty Words?

The three are forced to dig and end up at Quan Yizhen’s palace with Pei Ming behind them

Pei Ming: QYZ, help me out and capture them

QYZ: *sees Xie Lian and remembers what he did for him during the Lantern Festival* - Grabs bed and throws it at Pei Ming- YEET!

Xie Lian tosses dice and the three end up at Puqi Shrine again. Xie Lian is greeted to the sight of a shirtless Hua Cheng finishing up some labour work with using E-Ming.

- Me: Is this going to be Xie Lian’s gay awakening? Will he finally acknowledge he has feelings for Hua Cheng?

Xie Lian immediately calms down and gets back into action

- Me: dang it!

The group, now with Hua Cheng, teleports to the Rain Master’s land. They exchange what they know and Xie Lian is drawing a very terrifying conclusion.

- Me: So, if there was a chart of the four famous tales compared to the four great calamities based on comparing their authenticity of tales

- Xie Lian Hua Cheng (They have to match somewhat)

- Princess who slit her throat White No-Face (Both have very little knowledge and seem very much bamf)

- General who broke his sword Black Water (Just vibes based on their names)

- Shi Qingxuan Qi Rong (Don’t really match the others, but are famous enough to get on the list)

Xie Lian connects the dots on Scholar He's name

- is that even possible?

Pei Ming arrives and then the group moves to Shi Wudu’s Heavenly Trial ground cause mortals are in danger. Their mission is to help the mortals and not get in the way of Water Master.

Hua Cheng changes into a fisherman outfit

Xie Lian and Hua Cheng share a tender moment with a steam bun. General Pei watches them

- Me: Oh? Pei Ming, what did you notice? Did you notice the potential ship between the two of them?

118: The ship somehow wandered into the Ship-Sinking Black Water’s territory.

- Me: Oh no. The drama.

--------

Alright, here seems good. The next part will be the Wind & Water Master Arc pt 2 (?). At least I think so since the Wind part was discovered and now it’s the Water part that’s next.

You know, I really wanted to comment on a bunch of other stuff. Especially the Hualian moments, but decided against it cause there are some things that should be read

#sunmay rambles #sunmay reads tgcf #sunmay reads tian guan cifu #sunmay reads heaven official's blessing #sunmay reads hob #tgcf #hob #tian guan ci fu #heaven official's blessing #hob spoiler #tgcf spoiler #book 3 spoilers #halfway through the wind and water master arc

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the-ineffable-demon-crowley · 4 years

Text

The Sweetest Wrath

Your romantic dinner with Crowley goes pear-shaped when Aziraphale unceremoniously interrupts. As your attention is captured by the angel, Crowley finds he has to use more creative means to remind the two of you just who you belong to.

Pairing: Anthony J. Crowley x reader (ft. Aziraphale)

Warnings: Exhibitionism, little bit of voyeurism, praise kink, fingering, rough sex, dirty talk, hair pulling, car sex

Length: 4.2k

Cross-posted to AO3 here

This work is a commission for @mollyplier

⋘ ⋙

Despite what you might think, demons had very busy schedules. Well, someone had to go around tempting people into their insidious desires, spreading hate and unrest within the population. Whether that be by blocking off all the main roads with untimely construction work that never seemed to be completed, pulling down all the major phone networks on a Friday evening, or by crashing the entirety of the public library’s database during finals season, Crowley had a long to-do list. Never mind the collection of souls for the Dark Lord, a back-breaking tasks in of itself.

Of course, that never stopped him from using his tempting charms as a means for his own good. There were a few souls that had caught his eye over the centuries, but they were far too special to be sacrificed to the Dark Lord. No, these were just for him. You were one of his finest achievements, but it didn’t take much to ensnare you. His charming walk, his easy grin, and his simple one-liners. Who could resist? It’d almost felt like you knew him for centuries, but that was just how comfortable you were with Crowley, and how much of an old soul he really was beyond the sarcastic, sniggering snake he could be sometimes.

Still, he worked hard, even if he didn’t want to. Which is why you loved Aziraphale, a cheeky but posh cherubic principality who was Crowley’s colleague, friend, confidante, everything. Though Aziraphale didn’t like it, he understood how useless it was to cancel each other’s work out, and would sometimes come to an agreement with Crowley over the heavenly state of the souls of some town’s population. Usually, Crowley won the coin-toss. Aziraphale never thought to ponder how Crowley was always so lucky.

But on the off-chance that Crowley lost, Aziraphale would keep you company. He was a delightful companion, and the two of you always spent your time talking books, plants, and the bureaucracy of Heaven. Aziraphale had much to say regarding that. But now, with Crowley off unveiling the worst in people, you were sat at home alone, planning. Conniving, he would call it, and then boast about how he had done well in corrupting you. If only he knew.

You’d made a reservation for two at the RItz for you and Crowley for that very evening. It was technically Aziraphale’s favourite place, but you knew Crowley was fond of it as well, having been dragged there for drinks and crêpes since its inception in 1906. You planned the whole thing out; for dinner, a sumptuous 4-course feast, and for dessert, well... You had several decadent selections in mind, each sure to make him more insatiable than the last.

Your instructions to Crowley were simple as you typed them out on your phone. Dinner, tonight. Pick me up at 8. Stay hungry, my demon.

His reply was swift. Ravenous already. See you tonight.

Crowley wasn’t often known for punctuality, but because you hadn’t been able to spend much time together since he was busy at... work, you supposed it was, he was outside your flat, leaning against his Bentley waiting for you at 8 on the dot. You smirked at the sight of him, black blazer, black trousers, per usual. Red hair swiped upwards, black sunglasses framing his sharp features. He was angular, positively fiendish, and he was here for your soul.

⋘ ⋙

As expected, the Ritz was beautiful, the vintage building’s peaks soaring into the backdrop of the starry night sky, and its patrons dripping in glamour. Guests came dressed with their savings on their sleeves, with even the most casually dressed of diners boasting expensive loungewear. You thought you fit right in on the arm of your demon, bedecked in black, and you, clad in a tasteful dress that brought out your eyes. As you made your way up towards the entrance, your arm brushed against Crowley’s, and you nearly flushed, as though this was your first date all over again. He just had that kind of effect on you.

Despite the fact that Crowley wasn’t often one for affection, you could feel his long, strong arm slipping around your waist as he escorted you into the dining room, a quiet din of the other diners filling your ears. You sat down onto the white upholstered chair, and smiled at Crowley as a waiter came to take preliminary drink orders. Minutes later, drinks and the first course had arrived.

“This is absolutely glorious, angel, thank you.” Crowley murmured as he tipped the mixed alcoholic concoction into his mouth. His tongue darted out to collect a stray droplet, and you watched it with fascination at its snapping movement.

“It’ll get even better once you start eating instead of just drinking.” You quipped, lifting a forkful of your dinner to your mouth. Crowley grinned.

“All in good time.” He raised his hand, fingers long and neatly manicured, and gestured to the waiter for another round.

“Have Hastur and Ligur been giving you much trouble?”

“Ngk.” Crowley responded, this time taking your advice and swallowing whole his bites of dinner. However, he remained a perfect gentleman, and you couldn’t help but stare at him outfitted in his jacket and trousers. He didn’t necessarily fit in among the glitzy crowd of the Ritz dining room, but damn if he didn’t look every bit as expensive as everybody else in there, right down to the shining black gunmetal of his sunglasses. “Nothing I can’t handle. They’re attempting to delegate the planning of the next recession and stock-market crash to me, but I told them they can stick it right-”

“Oh!” A sudden soft gasp, otherwise masked by the din of the room, caught Crowley’s ear. Mostly because he’d heard it for centuries; mainly when a particularly cute creature was in view. His partner in.... something, Aziraphale. You noticed him noticing it, and turned your head to see what had caught his attention.

“Crowley! Y/N! How lovely to see you both here!” Aziraphale was positively gleaming as he approached the dinner table, a ray of sunshine in direct opposition to Crowley’s black void. You couldn’t help but smile at the angel, appreciative at his endless enthusiasm.

“Aziraphale, what a surprise!” You returned.

“Oh, my dear, I have been holed up in my shop for what feels like hours. I had to get out and have a nice cuppa. Speaking of which, have you read that novel I gave you yet? You simply must, I could not put it down for the life of me.”

“Oh, I’ve gotten about halfway, and I was so shocked when one of the twins died, and- oh, please, sit down.” You hadn’t expected this interruption, but now that he was here, you simply couldn’t resist a quick chat. You were about to ask a nearby diner if you could borrow one of the chairs at their table, but one miracled itself right in front of your eyes. You glanced around at the others, the magical appearance of the chair apparently unnoticed, then at Crowley, seemingly as indifferent as ever, continuing to sip at his drink.

“Thank you, Y/N. Now, tell me what you think of the heroine.” Aziraphale happily on the chair.

You gushed about the novel with Aziraphale for a few more minutes, admittedly completely neglecting Crowley during that time. But every time you glanced at him, he seemed to at least be paying attention, albeit drinking all the while. You had counted three or four empty glasses before the waiter came to collect them, bringing a fresh one shortly afterwards. A demon’s tolerance was essentially bottomless, so Crowley wouldn’t be anywhere near drunk yet, but it could be soon at the rate Aziraphale was talking, and Crowley with no other way to entertain himself.

“Oh, have you finished eating? Then I believe it’s time for dessert- garçon! Three of your finest strawberry crêpes, s’il vous plaît.”

“Oh, angel, I think Y/N had planned for-” but Crowley was quickly cut off, and he sat back in the chair, raising a brow to you. You signalled to give it another minute, and you would start to shoo Aziraphale off.

“Don’t be silly, Crowley, company as lovely as YN here deserves nothing but the best- and the crêpes here are the best.” This seemed to shut Crowley up for the moment, but you could tell he was getting a little territorial over your attention, with his boot beginning to slowly trace itself against your ankle. You cleared your throat to focus, but your leg did not move, eager for a piece of Crowley during this interrupted dinner. Still, it was simply impossible to be rude to the angel, and Crowley, for whom it was somehow an endearing trait, was seemingly refusing to help. “Oh, Y/N, that reminds me, I have taken your advice and have taken up a spot of painting.”

“Oh, that’ll be fun. What medium?”

“Oil paints, I should think. I dabbled in it before, of course, tried a hand at some neoimpressionism, but I should think the classical styles are more my type, the nude portraits and the like. Positively divine.” Crowley snorted, the first indication that he hadn’t petrified and turned to stone since Aziraphale’s arrival.

“Bit biased there, aren’t you?” He drawled smugly.

Aziraphale glanced at Crowley from the corner of his eye pettily, then looked back at you. Then as if to spite him, or perhaps out of a naive desire to simply catch your beauty on canvas, he blurted out, “You’d pose for me, wouldn’t you, Y/N? You’d make a beautiful model for a nude study.”

Your eyes flashed and your mouth fell open slightly, lips parting in surprise. It wasn’t necessarily the request, but the fact that Crowley was right there-

“Oh, yes, I could see it now. Bedecked in honeysuckle and lavender, in your hair, against your lovely skin, you’d be heavenly. What do you think, Crowley?”

You laughed, a bit taken aback. “I’m flattered, really! But I-”

“Oh, I should think she would be- Y/N.” Crowley leaned forward, placing his elbows onto the table. “Get your coat, sweet.”

Aziraphale seemed genuinely confused, bless him, turning to look at the demon. In the meantime, you stood from your chair and scooped up your jacket, trying not to think about how Crowley’s darkened voice sent shivers up your spine. You knew this was coming from the moment Aziraphale even mentioned nude portraits, could almost see how his features were shadowed by lust at the thought of you. Aziraphale’s voice remained strong, but innocent. “But the crêpes haven’t arrived yet-”

“Oh, come on, Aziraphale.” He cajoled. “Let’s have a bit of a walk, hm?” Crowley inclined his head towards the exit, his red hair catching the light of the chandeliers. You smirked as the angel, still babbling, stood up and reluctantly agreed, leaving the promise of his dessert behind.

With Aziraphale in front of you, Crowley’s arm slid possessively around your waist a little tighter this time, pulling you to him, against him as you walked between the tables. You could feel the power in his body with every step, and though you knew you were in for it now, the thought of Crowley claiming you as his was as delicious a dessert as you could ever have suggested. Despite his intimidation, you knew he was secretly enjoying this; he had found the perfect excuse to shut Aziraphale up, and finish the the night off exactly the way he wanted to- with your legs spread.

The night air was cool but not unpleasant as a breeze traced across your skin. Your senses felt sharpened, each of his touches sending you into a frenzy as he led you towards the car. Aziraphale followed behind, one of his hands holding the other in front of him like a poised debutante.

“Y/N, sit in the back for a moment, please.” You heard the subtle growl in his voice, and you obliged, popping open the door of the big, black Bentley and slipping inside onto the cool leather. The angel and the demon got in in front of you, and you stared at their beautiful silhouettes. Crowley, a lean, shadowy, sinful figure, and Aziraphale, a vision of purity and light even in the nighttime, even in the face of Crowley’s wrath.

The car was silent for a beat before anybody spoke.

“My two angels,” Crowley murmured, turning back to look at you in the backseat. “You’ve both been naughty, haven’t you?” His gaze turned to Aziraphale with a slight turn of his head. Even behind the impenetrable sunglasses that perched on his nose, his gaze was heavy, dangerous. You scarcely felt yourself breathe. You were in trouble now.

“Crowley, it’s my fault, Aziraphale was just-” You began to reach forward for him. He turned his head towards you, and your mouth closed. You sat back against the backseat of the Bentley quietly, the leather creaking underneath you. It was the only noise in the car for a long moment.

“I know what he was doing, love. Like to have a bit of a look? Bit of a flirt?” He looked at Aziraphale. “And you-” You bit your lip, eyes lifting slowly to look at him. “You know.”

God, did you ever. Crowley had never been that much of the jealous type, but for you to have been fawning over Aziraphale like that, during a dinner meant for him to relax? It was enough to trigger the most hellish side of the demon, and you were in for it now. Heat flooded your core, and you pressed your knees together. You saw Crowley raise a brow behind his glasses, a smirk adorning his lips. He saw.

“You’re enjoying this. Would you enjoy bouncing on my cock while Aziraphale watches, then? I think it’s what you both deserve after tonight.” He inclined his head towards the angel, who began sputtering in shock.

“Crowley, I say!” But you saw his cheeks flush pink, painting the perfect picture of a cherub. You weren’t going to lie, making Aziraphale watch was one of the hottest things you’d ever heard, and you had never expected Crowley to go that far. It was clear things were going to be played by his rules tonight.

“What d’ya say, angel?” His smirk grew wicked, and you grew hot beneath your clothing. Your reply was a whisper, but you knew he heard it, and he knew you meant it.

“Yes, Crowley.”

It took him precisely half a second to materialize in the backseat with you. It was a mess of limbs, his long and lean, and yours tangled up with him. His hands gripped your hips, and his lips found yours in a searing kiss. You moaned into his mouth at the feeling of his strong, nimble fingers beginning to trail up and down your sides, one slipping underneath your shirt to palm at your breast. His thumb rolled circles over your nipple, and you groaned your pleasure against him.

“Eyes on me, angel.” He growled in your ear. You blinked, and looked up at the man overing over you. His sharp features were illuminated only by the orange glow of the streetlights outside, and whatever scarce cars drove by. You knew they couldn’t see anything; the car was probably magicked to invisibility. Crowley wouldn’t be that careless. He was lithe, but heavy, a comforting weight between your legs, and his hair already a mess from the way your fingers had been running through it. He stared down at you with black eyes, his sunglasses still on his face. “Both of you.” He barked, lifting his head to look at Aziraphale. The angel, looking quite unsettled, turned his head to look at you. Crowley’s hands made quick work of your shirt and your bra, exposing your breasts to the night air.

You felt like you were being ravished in front of God himself, a demon laying snugly between your thighs. Crowley seemed to agree, as he bucked his hips against you, his hard erection pressing into your clothed centre.

“Fuck, Crowley, please.”

“So needy, angel, even with an audience. You’re greedy, little one.”

His large hand snaked down to between your thighs, his fingers beginning to rub you against your trousers. You keened at the feeling, head rolling against the car door, hips squirming. He held you fast, his weight keeping you pinned down beneath him. You felt absolutely at his mercy, without even Aziraphale to dare help you now. Crowley’s fingers then found the button and zipper of your jeans, at which point he began to yank them down.

“Crowley, is this really-” You heard him start, but your moan swallowed his words in the darkness of the car.

“That feel good? My long fingers inside of you?”

Precisely two of his long fingers were now buried deep inside of you, thumb on your lit, and palm slapping against your pussy. Your hands snapped forward, gripping his forearms. You felt the power beneath the corded muscles that flexed underneath his thin black blazer. The smell of smoke and leather overwhelmed you, eyes shutting tightly as his fingers increased their pace.

“Look at me. Look at me, or I won’t let you cum.” He hissed, and your eyes popped open, so desperate were you for release.

“-Yes, Aziraphale,” He addressed the angel calmly, though his eyes remained on you. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To see her splayed out, desperate, needy, begging? ‘Cept of course, it’s my cock that she’ll be bouncing on, isn’t it, love?” His thumb rolled over your clit harshly, and your hips bucked. Aziraphale couldn’t help but keep his eyes trained on you, so clearly in the throes of pleasure. He wasn’t proud of himself, and yet...

“Yes! God, yes...”

“You like him watching, don’t you?” He purred in your ear, and your ankles hooked around his hips, an attempt to bring him closer. No part of him touched you except his hand, buried in your soaking cunt. “Say it.”

“I-I... I like it! I like it- please, let me... cum.”

“Alright, I’ll allow it. Cum.”

Stars sparked behind your eyelids, and fire tore through your insides. Your juices soaked his hand, fingers still fucking in and out of you, and you heard him groan at the sight of it. You could also feel him rubbing against your thigh in search of a bit of friction, but still, he kept his composure. A sheen of sweat covered your forehead, hair sticking to your cheeks. Aziraphale cleared his throat quietly; you’d nearly forgotten he was there at all.

“Are you satisfied, Crowley?” He muttered.

Crowley grinned. “Not nearly.”

In the blink of eye, you were on top of the demon, jeans abandoned, and his cock free of his tight leather trousers. He folded his hands behind his head, mirroring your previous position, and yet it was clear he was the one in charge here. His sunglasses were also gone at this point, and the sight of his snake eyes filled you with desire. There was something so wrong about it all, being fucked by a demon with an angel staring right at you. You had no hopes of explaining this one to the Almighty.

You could barely keep yourself upright as you straddled him, limbs still weak from your orgasm. Crowley did not care.

“Turn around, Y/N.”

You raised a brow, and his eyes narrowed, challenging you. You quickly changed positions, with the help of Crowley sitting up a bit in the back. You were now sitting atop of him, staring directly in the face of Aziraphale, sitting in the passenger seat. If he had looked uncomfortable before, he was positively faint at this point. It was clear he wanted to look away, and yet, if either by some wicked temptation or by Crowley’s clear commands, he did not. Not for a second.

Not even when your eyes rolled to the back of your head as the tip of Crowley’s cock rubbed against your folds. Instantly, you felt desire electrify your insides, and you wanted nothing more than to sink down onto him. But you needed his permission first. He rubbed the pre-cum against you, and you felt your juices slowly dripping down your thighs. You shuddered, hips bowing down to try to take him in. He chuckled.

“You still want my cock, love? Right in front of Aziraphale?”

You lifted your eyes to the actual angel’s, and he gave you a slight smile as if to assure you. Angel or not, he couldn’t have not been enjoying this display.

“Yes, I want your cock always, Crowley, please, please fuck me.”

“Whatever my angel so desires. Keep your eyes on him and I might let you cum again.”

With one hand on your hip pulling you towards him, he used the other to guide himself into you. Thick, long, and hard, he filled you entirely, and you felt stuffed as you seated him inside of you right to the hilt. You heard Crowley growl underneath you, the only time he had lost his composure during this entire affair. His hand pushed against your hip, encouraging you- pushing you to build up your rhythm. You gyrated your hips against him as hard and fast as you could, but it didn’t feel like enough to Crowley.

You bounced against his cock, tits bouncing in front of Aziraphale, hands reaching for the headrest to steady yourself. Crowley’s hips, powerful and strong, fucked up into you as his cock filled your walls. You felt him shift slightly, and the instant he hit that special spot, your back arched.

“There, is it?” Crowley’s voice was rough, and his grip, his pace, was rougher. “Look at you, being fucked right here in the backseat, absolutely soaking wet for my cock, even with someone watching. You are a little minx, aren’t you?”

His dirty words spurred you on, bouncing as quick as you could, chasing your high. You knew Crowley’s permission wouldn’t come easily this time, and you had to make it count.

“Aziraphale, isn’t she lovely?”

Your eyes flitted to the angel’s, then fell, and he swallowed, clearly affected by the sight of you. “Positively decadent.”

“And she belongs to me.”

His fingers wrapped around a handful of your hair, bending your neck back. You felt his teeth scrape against the exposed skin, and you cried out at the feeling of the pleasure and pain mixing. “Look at him while you try to cum.”

One of his hands traveled between your legs, and his fingers pinched your clit. You nearly sobbed, and you wanted nothing more than to collapse, but still, he kept you going. Your release was coming, and coming hard. Crowley could feel it by the way your hips began to stutter, your pace slowing as your limbs grew weak from the exhaustion.

“Don’t you stop.” He yanked your hair harder, and you moaned in response, the stinging sensation in your scalp a delicious addition to the pounding between your legs. His cock, hot and hard, was hitting you over and over again in the your most sensitive of places. But you were so close, so close.

“Please le-let... me cum!” You begged, his fingers gripping your hair and your neck bending as you stared into Aziraphale’s eyes. Crowley’s fingers began to tweak at your clit, but his permission didn’t come. You cried at the feeling, continuing to fuck yourself against his cock without any sign of release in sight.

“Tell me who you belong to.” You could hear his voice becoming ragged as he fought the urge to cum himself, eyes fixated on the way your ass bounced against his hips, his cock disappearing in and out of you.

“You! You, Crowley, only you... Please!”

“Cum.”

With one single word, you fell to pieces. You fell forward as his hand released your hair, his hands now gripping your hips harshly as he sought his own release. You moaned at the feeling of letting him use you for his own pleasure as your cum soaked his cock, your thighs, and the leather of the Bentley beneath you. Your fingers slipped against the plastic interior of the car door, trying to no avail to get a grip on your surroundings. He thrusted in and out of you a handful of times again before cumming, hot spurts of cum filling you up inside, then slowly beginning to trickle out.

Crowley’s hands, no longer harsh, but strong, moved to disengage himself from you, and reached for some napkins to help you clean up. You reached for your shirt and jeans, and began to dress yourself as awkwardly as you could in the small space. Crowley’s hair was mussed, and his perfect skin glowed with sweat. You felt your hair sticking to you, and the heat of Crowley’s cum still inside you. Limbs weak, you allowed yourself to be collected in Crowley’s arms.

Aziraphale cleared his throat quietly.

“Yes, well... that was-”

“Divine? Tempting enough to immortalize on canvas?” Crowley finished with a grin. You felt him chuckle beneath you, and you snuggled in close to his chest.

“No! Goodness, no, I, uh... get the message.”

“Glad to hear it. You alright, love?”

“Yes, Crowley.”

“Good. Shall we get some dessert?”

You saw Aziraphale’s gaze light up, and you knew that his eyes were never meant for you. Only Crowley’s.

#Anthony Crowley #anthony j crowley #anthony j crowley x reader #anthony crowley x reader #anthony j crowley smut #good omens smut #good omens au #good omens smut au #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic #commission #fanfic commission #mollyplier

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emsartwork · 5 years

Photo

SO! the other season 4 transformations because they wouldn’t fit with believix but it’s probably better this way because they’re ethereal magic and that’s kinda wonky

Sophix, Amorix, and Aterix (its labeled as Thanatix in my magic master post for some reason?? way to space out on your own transformation name brain), the gifts physical appearance, and Nabu and Duman in Aterix because plot reasons.

The three gifts are grown/formed somewhere in the golden kingdom, and can be used every 300 years but its usually up to the members of the golden kingdom(and the ethereals themselves obvi) when to put them out into the world. They’re classified somewhere between a magical item and a magical substance, acting almost like drugs to a persons magical core. Much of what is known about their formation is recorded in the dairy of Jak Anthebanak, an ambitious wizard from Lynphea who, through some extreme experimenting, grew vines into a portal to the Golden Kingdom. He had very little time to study or note down anything there but the glowing stone circles in the back garden of the main castle seemed to be similar shapes to the gifts and he theorized they slowly emerged from the stone or the stones built up enough power until the gifts could be formed. The ethereal who found him thought the little man was a riot and sent him back alive and unharmed, but with his memory wiped and the portal plants destroyed, only the scribbles in Jak’s field journal survived.

Each gift actually has only enough power to transform 1-2 people, but I drew the girls in all of them because ~*fashion*~. The gifts act as a layer over whatever the affected person is wearing at the time of use(so the girls transform into believix and then use the gift, if they didn’t transform first the gift would just slightly change their normal clothing). The users’ main color changed but their core color/s remain or are added to the outfit. And each gift has lasting effects on the user so the winx have to choose wisely who should use each gift so sophix: Bloom and Tecna Amorix: Musa and Stella Aterix: Aisha and Flora

Sophix: also known as the gift of wisdom. it seems to govern plant, water, earth, animal, and some weather magic. I mentioned the gifts act like drugs, and the closest comparison for Sophix would be a combo of marijuana and LSD. Sophix slows a person’s magical process down and allows them to see and join with the connected elements of the natural world around them, it also suppresses more volatile emotions. It kind of almost turns them into a plant in a weird way. attack magic isn't super strong but defense is a little better. The lasting side effects are pretty serious, the user will experience increased depersonalization, short term memory loss, nausea when eating or drinking, difficulty moving, muscle weakness, and sometimes respiratory issues(like randomly stopping breathing or the lungs feeling smaller that kind of stuff). Bloom and Tecna are some of the least “Nature” based magic users, so they volunteer to use Sophix as its theorized people who use a lot of magic that contradicts the gift’s powers they’ll have less side effects. This is primarily why Flora and Aisha were immediately banned from using sophix by the rest of the winx lol. Flora is basically already a plant and Aisha is 1/4 merm so they didn’t want to mess with their more complex biology.

Amorix: Also known as the gift of heart. It governs temperature, fire, ice, crystals/gems, wind, and human emotions. The drug comparison for Amorix is stimulants(cocaine, meth, etc) with a touch of MDMA/PCP. Amorix hypes a person up and polarizes their body temperature(cold in the middle and hot in the extremities) it also intensifies their emotions and empathy. Attack magic is very strong and defense is p low. The side effects after are chills, hot flashes, intense and sudden mood swings, tremors, aggression or violent behavior, cardiac trouble, and transference(taking on other’s emotions as their own to an unhealthy degree). The choices for who used these depended on who would have the most issues with cold. Musa is tiny, and Stella relies on a certain about of sunlight(ie warmth). Bloom and Tecna both come from colder planets, and their body temps protect them. Aisha and Flora could have also used these but for plot purposes I decided they couldn’t. (Roxy is also protected from the cold automatically by Aurora tho at the time nobody understands whats going on with her lol) Bloom’s fight with Nebula is just straight up dragon fire and rage babey no gift needed.

Aterix: also known as the gift of memory or the black gift. Aterix is the least understood of the gifts but it seems to govern colors, dark/light, pain/numbness death or decay, sleep, and memory. The (very loose) drug comparison are opioids(heroine, morphine) and rohypnol/ketamine, unfortunately with out some of the pain relieving effects. Aterix is also the only gift that can technically effect four people, but you have to have the Ater(the gifted, the person actually using the gift) and the Thrane(the person the gifted uses the aterix spell on). Aterix feels a little bit like swimming, the gifted’s motions aren’t actually slower, but everything feels like it’s slowed down. Their vision is improved, seeing colors and shadows in much more detail, their memory is also heightened to an almost photographic level. Unfortunately they can sense any physical pain around them as if it were their own. The gifted’s emotions are also subdued, as they are receiving so much physical and mental stimulus that area of the brain kind of shuts down. Side effects for the gifted are vision issues, insomnia, narcolepsy, muscle cramps, shooting pains, loss of sensation, intense flashbacks to any trauma, memory loss, and sometimes brief comas. Side effects for the Thrane are either they return to death, or they remain resurrected, in constant physical pain and apathy, lost in memories, confused, slowly moving, never sleeping, never eating, and kind of just miserable.

Timeline changes: So in my version, Flora returns with the Specialists and Duman to Gardenia, she tries to heal him, but his magic is too unstable and the whole fight thing happens, Duman is killed, but he mentioned something about the wizards’ schemes before he died, leading Flora to accept Aterix, and pull him back to life. She compels him to to tell them all what the plan is and then they all rush off to Tir Nan Og. Nabu, as the only practiced male magic user, absorbs all the magic being used to create the vortex, he is unfortunately unable to expel the magic fast enough causing his core to break and Nabu dies. Aisha is understandably distraught, and uses Aterix, trying to get him back. In the commotion the Wizards manage to grab Duman and Flora after they realize they’re connected. and escape to Omega. As things die down Nebula holds her whole rebellion and stuff, and the Winx realize Flora is missing. Aisha is trying to interact with Nabu, and is in denial about his state of suffering so she defaults to anger and joins Nebula in hunting the Wizards down. Meanwhile, the wizards have managed to force Flora to de-transform, leaving Duman in his resurrected state. The winx free Morgana who promises to care for Nabu, and they pursue the fairies and the Wizards to Omega to rescue Flora and talk Aisha down from murder. Flora isn’t considered a threat by the wizards so they just kind of leave her to freeze, but she’s found by the winx and they manage to talk Nebula and Aisha down and the wizards are frozen for eternity(including Duman). Aisha, still in Aterix, returns with a clearer head, and recognizes she can’t leave him in a constant state of suffering, so she removes the Aterix spell from Nabu and returns him to his natural state.

If your wondering why Daphne could be revived but Musa’s mother and Nabu can’t be, it depends on where the spirit is. Daphne was still barely alive when Faragonda transferred/tied her spirit to the Sirenix source. Daphne’s original physical body “died” when her spirit left it, but her spirit was still in this realm. Bloom’s Sirenix wish created a new body based on Daphne’s perception of herself and tied Daphne’s spirit to that in season 5. Musa’s mother’s spirit has long left this realm, and Musa wishing her back would not only be wrong according to the natural world, but its basically magically impossible. Musa would end up with a cheap, mutated, imitation of her mother, lacking memories, personality, and any real “humanity”. Nabu’s spirit left his body. Aterix has power over memory, so it brings back the person’s brain and they can appear to really be back fully, but its painful, unstable, and feels wrong, to both Ater and Thrane since the person isn’t really back. Sorry if this is confusing lol.

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tabletopjourneys · 4 years

Text

Session 35 Notes

The Silver Scale Pack get to know various members of Rana's immediate family, get woken by draconic-speaking rodents, find out more about their quest, and hit a few stores on their way back through Longview, headed for one of the local taverns.

@gher-bear @aradow @telurin @epimetala

On this day we have a nice visit with Rana's mother, Romy, stay over and find out Anesh, for as long as anyone can remember, has a population of tiny animals that speak draconic. They all speak draconic and have infected our rats with the same! It's totally normal guys! And no, Diem, it is not because one of the town's people is secretly a dragon. We'd know. For sure.

The next day we move on to meet Rana's brother, sister-in-law, niece, and niephew. We find out a little more about Haldric and Phi's daggers, which she hides in her pack and displays her common daggers in their place instead. Ixayl'anu gets her platinum ring made, Diem gives the kids their putty vivis as a gift. On our way toward the tavern, we hit a general supply store and maaaybe one other??? Dried fruits and granola were purchased along Phi's medical supplies at any rate.

(Read More)

Session 35 Notes

Notes!

(Chillin’ with Rana’s mom)

When we go in Rana’s home, Phi becomes a wandering cat who helps herself to exploration, comes back and says “There’s a hot tub!”

Mom: You’re welcome to borrow it.

Phi: Is this where you grew up?

Rana: Yep! (pulls out duck sauce, honey, apple jam etc. - giving it to her mom).

Phi sees this and pulls out her very expired mixed fruit to hand over, along with her gummy owlbears.

Mom: Oh no dear, that’s fine, you don’t have to start pulling supplies out of your pack.

Phi drops the gummy owlbears into the pile anyway.

Rana: Really sorry to barge in like this, but we just needed a couple of days, we’ve run into some situations and I’m looking for someone in Bouldergap - wanted to see if Stell knew anything about them.

Romy tells us we’re welcome anyway, stresses that this is still Rana’s home too and says something about friends that I missed for note-taking.

Rana pulls out the silver scale and letter from Retin and talks about him, says she’s pretty sure the guy Retin is sending us to is a dwarf. We were told he might be helpful, but we weren’t told where he was. She figured Bouldergap was the place to look and knows it’s a long shot her mom or brother would know him but we also needed a place to stay on the way, so thought she thought she might as well ask.

Romy: I can’t be sure but I feel like Stell has mentioned a Haldric in passing but I certainly don’t have a whole lot of communication with anybody of that name.

Rana: No ironbands as customers then?

Romy: No

Rana: It’s a weird thing, handed us this dragon scale gave us that name and sent us this way.

We’ve noticed Romy has a bone of contention with Rana over the news about shadowood travelling.

With prompting Diem remembers they’re the story teller and should tell it, 13 performance, gets smoother as they go on. However, to their friends, who have heard Diem tell this particular story among others many times, they definitely seem off their game a little.

When we get to fighting the dragon, Romy is worried, Diem insists healers were on standby so nobody died

Rana: We almost had him.

Diem: Well I mean technically one of us did get him later that night…

Phi cracks up laughing

After stories Rana says something about the meteor

Mom says something I missed for note-taking, GM is telling us about blacksmiths/nosy customers (so maybe something about that?).

Through conversation we gather that Grismor is innkeeper/tavern keeper of The Smiling Dragon - one of 2 inns who trades in gossip. Smiling Dragon is better for gossip, better drink, does his own ale, seasonal brews, jolly little dwarf who is as tall as he is round. Square dwarf.

Rana tells us about her messages to her brother which provided a nice distraction about meteor news for Longview.

Rana offers her mother the camels then belated asks us if that’s alright.

Diem says that they can’t obviously take the camels everywhere they go after this anyway.

There’s some talk about whether they’re needed for the trip further North.

Romy: Lets see how they do with the sheep

Rana: Elk’s in with the sheep and they’re doing fine (I think we ended up deciding ooc that it’s in a separate paddock though).

Rana is playing with the silver dragon scale while making small talk which eventually includes Farford gossip too - specifically the mention of a firecat.

Romy: Yeah someone was talking about seeing one here too.

Rana: No one saw the person it was with so I’m thinking it’s just a stray

Romy: We do have a lot of flame point cats in the area so it’s possible I suppose.

Ixayl’anu: Is it the same type of cat?

Conversation about them being wild cats vs tame, a specific species, etc continues.

Rana: No like flame point siamese not actual fire

DM: these are not just cats they are more akin to avatars of The Candace

We find out the entire town is talking about firecats too

Rana: How’s Stell (Stellan) doing? I picked up a few things for the kids, so hopefully they’ll like it.

Romy: Good

Rana: Nothing alive

Romy: I’m sure Stell will appreciate that.

Diem asks about the kids so we find out Rana has a niece and niephio (I have no idea on the spelling for this and a google search turned up only nibling as a suggestion for enby niece/nephew). Diem grins further to learn of the niephio in particular.

Rana (upon mention of the niece): She big enough to help with the forge yet?

Romy: She’s big enough to do the bellows and help out

Rana: We will hunt them down tomorrow

Phi: Yay!

At some point Phi would say “So your brother only has two kids?”

Rana: Yeah just two kids

Phi: Oh, so they’re just starting?

Rana: No I get the impression they might be done

Phi: Interesting...

Rana: At least he doesn’t (something I missed)

Phi: Well, that’s why you have more, so they can be together.

Rana: I’ll mention it to him...better yet you could mention it to him

Phi: This is the starter pack right?

Romy is extremely amused by this conversation.

(Dinner prep and additional conversations)

There are dress mannequins and clothes everywhere, fabrics everywhere.

Diem and Romy eventually start talking about the tailoring and different fabrics and fashions etc.

As they talk about that, Rana wanders off to make food for everyone.

Phi goes to help cook.

Diem wanders off with Romy to talk about fabrics and fashion some more (Rana will throw them out the second story window if they do more than that lol).

Rana was half sorting her bag and still has her rocks and stuff spread out on the rug even as she’s making dinner now.

Romy gifts Diem an outfit by the end of their conversation, still so happy this is the first time Rana’s brought anyone home. As she’s got Diem pulled aside though, she asks for more details about everything that happened, worried and just making sure everything’s truly good, and how is Rana really doing?

Diem spins it well about how capable Rana is.

Her mom def agrees and looks worried, but noticeably less so.

While waiting for dinner we all talk more, telling Romy about how we saved Perfection. She does not look ready to come to terms that her daughter is an adventurer now, but accepts it.

Part 16 of Rana rumors according to the other townsfolk who saw us all: “Yeah we knew something like this was gonna happen eventually”

Rana brings up the thunderbird and we talk about that.

Food got delivered, rats were introduced, how Rana and Phi have been training them to spy, rat race story from the Harvest festival gets told as well.

Rana notes that she is actually showing us off to her mom <3

Rana prompts us to talk about ourselves to her mom.

Phi happily tells her whole life story, or at least all the things she’s said to us as a group.

Ixyal’anu talks a little about herself as well.

Diem hangs back and doesn’t say much during this portion as they already talked pretty extensively with Romy already.

Rana: And Ixayl'anu’s on a task for her god but she doesn’t have a fire cat, she has vague dreams.

Romy asks about Ixayl’anu’s deity, pleasant ‘mom questions.’

As things wind down, Diem remembers the find familiar spell and asks if they have a moment, whether it would be alright to summon them while they’re here - noting it would listen to their directions and not make a mess or break anything. They get permission, but never end up doing the spell before bed.

Phi takes her hot tub bath, Diem takes one after.

After Rana gets us settled to bed in the guest room, she goes out and takes a point of exhaustion spending 8 hours to cast enriching the land again since she’s been gone a few years and it only lasts a year, then she goes and sits with the sheep, all of the sheep bed down next to her in a sea of white around her and she leans back against the nearest sheep for a nap/meditation during the spell. They remember her and know she’s the source of the good food.

(Mice vs. Rats: Draconic edition)

During the night, in the wee hours of the morning Ixayl’anu wakes up hearing some very high squeaky voices arguing “This is our territory”

“No, we were invited,” back and forth half awake-half asleep and thinking “what is this? Oh...this is real, this is something that is happening here.”

Very tiny angry voices continue.

Investigation check for more details 15: It’s dark in the room, she can kinda see in the shadows, she doesn’t see anyone. At the foot of Ixayl'anu’s bed is Horatio, four little house mice are around him being territorial against him, and the strange thing is they are all speaking draconic, including Horatio.

Ixayl'anu: What...what?

When Phi wakes up she doesn’t understand her rat any more, but she does hear the rat and mice speaking draconic.

Ixayl’anu: What?

The four mice squeak in a mousy scream

Horatio: Yeah you better run (turns to Ixayl'anu): Thanks!

Ixayl’anu: What? Why? Why are you speaking draconic?

Horatio: Is that what this is? I don’t know I was just suddenly able to and these mice were speaking a weird dialect and I found I could speak back in it as well.

Ixayl’anu: What...okay...and you’re still speaking it, who were they what were you fighting about?

Horatio: They live here and were being territorial and I was telling them I was an invited guest ‘cause I’m with you all.

(I am dead to the world as Phi wakes up)

Phi: Why are you talking to yourself?

Ixayl’anu gestures at the rat

Phi: Have you been teaching my rat that...?

Ixayl’anu: No…. Do you think that’s just something you can teach a rat?

Phi to Horatio: How are you doing that?

Horatio: I don’t know it just happened!

Phi: You’re still doing it…

There is conversation back and forth as its established among the three characters that Horatio still understands Phi, but since he is no longer speaking rat, she can’t understand him, but now Ixayl’anu can both understand and speak with him through draconic.

Ixayl’anu says something I missed.

Phi: what are you saying to my rat?

Ixayl’anu says something else I missed.

Horatio: You all can just decide what language to speak in? That’s weird.

Ixayl’anu: Yeah it is weird

Horatio: It’s a weird dialect and apparently it’s infectious.

Hamlet is mentioned in the back and forth and Phi, recognizing the name, wonders aloud if Hamlet is like this now as well. She tells Horatio he’s changed and she hopes it’s not permanent

Ixayl’anu tries to stop her to ask about that back and forth but Phi slips out of the guest room.

Phi 25 stealths through the house looking for Rana. From a window she sees an odd clump of sheep in the field. She goes out outside and climbs the fence.

Rana is deep in meditation.

Phi: Hamlet, wake up Hamlet…

Rat wakes up and cleans his face but says something back in draconic that she can’t understand.

Phi in common: Oh my god.

Phi uses her stone to let Ixayl'anu know not only this, but what she can see out here around Rana (visible plant growth around her - she’s decided to sleep on her sheep in the field which is weirdly moving and Hamlet’s doing the same thing, Rana’s not moving, I feel like I’m dreaming I don’t know about you…)

In squeakish Phi tells Hamlet that she can’t understand him but she knows he can understand her so “If you want to find out what’s going on you have to talk to Ixayl'anu about it because she’ll understand you. So I’m going to go now.”

Hamlet is irritated and goes back to sleep. All the sheep watch her. One sheep baas at her, then they all start baaing for food, none of them were speaking draconic.

Ixayl’anu to horatio while Phi’s gone: They just walked up to you and started talking to you and that was it?

Horatio: They tried to fight me!

Ixayl’anu: like biting and scratching?

Horatio: Yeah, look at this wet spot! And I’m an invited guest!

Ixayl’anu: That’s rude!

Horatio: That’s very rude, yeah! I’m an invited guest *stamps tiny rat feet*!

Together Ixayl’anu and Horatio determine they probably live in the roof or something, not pets.

Ixayl’anu casts detect magic. She sees the faintest little glow around Horatio. So faint you may think it’s not there and the only reason she sees it is because the lights are off, a wisp of power with the vaguest sense of magic. The source of it is nowhere nearby and the magic itself is so barely there she can’t even see the mice in the walls like she should have if they were properly bespelled in some way. It’s not any specific school for it. Mostly all she really sees is the glow of our various magic items.

At this point Phi returns

(Diem’s perception rolls were 2, 3, and now 0 lol. It is at this point we determine Diem is actually being held in sleep by their patron, catching up, talking about the familiar, and the follower and the spells and just having tea and a lovely bonding time. Probably when they were Tarma out in the desert, they did less communicating)

I missed some back and forth between Ixayl’anu, Phi, and Horatio.

Phi: They were being aggressive and picking on him?

Ixayl’anu to Horatio: Would you be willing to see where these mice have gone?

Horatio: You want me to bring one back to you? Yeah I can do that.

Ixayl’anu: You don’t have to but it’d be nice, I can give you food for it, *looks at her supplies*

Horatio: What kind of treat do I get, what’s in it for me?

Ixayl’anu: Nope no that’s not food I have nope that’s not food. *pauses in her rummaging* Well, what do you want, I suppose we can find something for you?

*thinks on it* A gummy owlbear?

Ixayl’anu: Oh I have some of those. Sure. *finds her little package of them*.

Horatio: Okay! *scurries off and disappears*

About two minutes later she hears furious squeak yelling, Horatio reappears holding a mouse by the scruff of its neck in his mouth “I found one!”

Ixayl’anu: Where’s the cage you keep the rats from? To put the mouse in?

Phi: We sold the cages, the carrier is Horatio’s home...there’s this box?

Ixayl’anu: Yeah that’ll do.

They find a box of rocks to gently empty real quick and put the mouse in it/close the lid (15 animal handling check).

As soon as Horatio had dropped the mouse: “Gummy owlbear please.”

Phi: He knows fetch now!

Ixayl’anu: All that training you’ve been doing with him is paying off! *taps box* Hello?

Phi: Ask if it if it talks like that if it knows it’s doing it or ask if it knows any dragons? I don’t know?

Ixayl’anu: Right?

Mouse is bouncing around in the box trying to get out.

Rana head canoned the rats as 400-550 grams

Horatio is gaming the system a little bit and only found a wine gummy to eat, never officially given one (Phi bought fancy rat treats for him)

(More things I missed and wrote down as “Talking to mouse ah 2”)

The mouse is screaming obscenities at Ixayl’anu.

Horatio is on his back in 7th heaven and suggests she should also give the mouse a gummy owlbear, maybe it’ll talk then.

Ixayl’anu sneaks in a smaller portion and it takes awhile for it to calm down and then it’s quiet for a little bit after until... “This doesn’t make us friends!”

Ixayl’anu: You want more? I’ve got more.

Mouse: I mean...yes

Ixayl’anu: I’m not planning on keeping you here I just want to ask a few questions

Mouse: More first

Ixayl’anu: Okay *puts in other half of gummy*

Mouse is very very quiet

Ixayl’anu taps the box: Hello?

Mouse (slurred): What do you want?

Ixayl’anu: Where’d you learn to talk like that

Mouse: I always talk like this this is how mice talk

Some similar back and forth about this.

Mouse (when asked about dragonborn/people like Ixayl’anu): People like you don’t come around here.

Ixayl’anu: Really? Oh… (to Phi in common now) I don’t this is how they talk, this is weird.

Phi: I think they just don’t know, they don’t know that they’re weird, you know

Ixayl’anu: But horatio thinks it’s a weird dialect

Phi: Did you ask if it if they saw any dragonborn? Or dragons?

Ixayl’anu: Well they haven’t seen anything like me (then to the mouse in draconic) Have you seen anything big with wings?

Mouse: Yeah outside but I live in this house I don’t have to worry about that

Ixayl’anu: Are there any mice that you can’t talk to?

Mouse: Everybody kinda talks like this around here

Ixayl’anu: Kind of or they do?

Mouse: They do?

Ixayl’anu: They all speak this...they all...speak this...I’m really confused.

They decide to try and wake Diem up for a third opinion, and it takes awhile before Diem’s patron allows it, letting Diem know that their friends need them for a moment, so they will have to continue catching up later.

Ixayl’anu as Diem finally starts waking up out of sorts: Weird things are happening

Diem continues to be out of it enough for a bit until eventually Phi catches them up - including the detail about Rana meditating in a cloud of sheep.

Phi (to Diem about the mouse in the box: It’s drunk

Diem: Are you guys sure you’re not drunk?

Phi: I’m not sure we’re not dreaming

Ixayl’anu: This isn’t dreaming not even close.

(I didn’t tag these two responses so the first might be Ixayl’anu and the 2nd Phi)

Too tired to bother with ritual magic, Diem uses a slot to cast comprehend languages.

Mouse asks if we’ve got more of those treats, which Horatio hears and says “Yeah! I’ll eat another!” *perks up*

Diem translates for phi who turns sharply to Horatio to talk about how many he’s already eaten and how he got one in the first place to ask Ixayl’anu for another, etc.

Horatio looks sheepish: Weeeellll sometimes you don’t secure your bag very good and I was hungry and they smelled good.

Phi smirks and retrieves Ixayl’anu’s package of owl gummies, then gives half to Horatio, and half to the mouse.

Horatio: YES! (helping her), I want this one I want the bigger section ‘cause I’m bigger and I get the big one (little grabby rat hands)

Diem does a history check on any stories they might have heard about talking animals like this (21). There are plenty of fairy tales with talking animals, sometimes it’s afey kind of thing - playing a prank on people. They’ve heard of similar events happening before, pretty disparate not tied to one physical location. Sometimes they’ve heard stories of animals in an area like within a mile circle will be able to speak draconic or sometimes other languages, not really a pattern to it. Sometimes it’s little towns, other times it’s connected to a whole city. Might be a natural phenomena. Specifically tiny beasts/birds/lizards are usually the type able to speak.

They also know various fae and wish spells can make this happen, but still they’re just random.

Diem shares this with Phi and Ixayl’anu.

(Insert missed conversation here)

Horatio or the mouse (not sure which): Yeah sure sometimes you say words that are funny and I don’t really understand what they are and they kinda sound like that and I don’t know what they are.

?: All the fangs or one specific thing? (I have no idea who said this or where fangs come into play)

We discover the mouse once met a gopher, stuck his nose in its burrow and it yelled at him back in draconic.

Diem to Ixayl’anu: Ask the mouse if it knows any fae in the area

Mouse makes an intelligence check when she asks, but does not know what she is talking about.

We confirm the mouse has always spoken draconic

Diem tells a quick rendition of cinderella as an example of fae meddling with small creatures where dress making is also involved (theorizing that perhaps Rana’s mother gets help from the mice as well)

We’re fairly certain it’s a normal mouse though and it’s now snoring softly so we’re not getting any more info.

Horatio by now is sprawled out on the bed, Phi cuddled around him while Diem gives him scritches. At a loss, we all go back to sleep for now, planning to ask Rana more in the morning.

(Good Morning!)

In the morning Phi will figure out the coffee situation and make some for everyone.

Romy (waking up to this): This is such a nice change of pace, somebody making the coffee for a change, and friends Rana brings in not destroying the house by the time I get up.

Phi: It’s no problem, I was just watching Rana from the window and figured she’d really like some, she’s gonna be tired so I can make sure coffee is waiting for her. We do have quite a story to tell her though.

Romy shows Phi where the biscotti is and such.

Rana is just now getting up and plucks Hamlet up.

Elk: something happened something happened something happened

Rana is feeding the sheep and clearly thinks the elk just wants some too

Elk: Oh is it breakfast? I’d like breakfast too!

Diem, after sleeping on it, performs a new arcana check on what sort of spells and effects cause draconic-speaking critters (21 again). They know now it can be caused by fae, wish spells, high level wizarding things will happen, and that similar strange effects happen around ancient dragon lairs (a little nugget buried in all their Miova dragon research they’d forgotten about), and that sometimes it’s just random without no discernible cause.

Rana comes in covered in sheep wool, hay, butt and legs wet, but she’s happy. Everything outside is noticeably green and lush.

Phi: We made coffee

Rana is super grateful and makes a beeline to grab a cup.

Rana: I took care of the plants and the animals

Ixayl’anu comes down around this time with the mouse in the box.

Romy: Your friend made coffee and something happened last night they were just about to tell me about.

Rana statues over her mother’s words with an ‘oh no what kind of things?’ sort of reaction.

Phi we’ll explain: Where’s Hamlet? Is he in your bag? Wait I’ll go get Horatio (who is snuggling Diem upstairs still)

Rana scritches Hamlet who asks “Oh is it breakfast time?” (in draconic) She’s tired enough she just hands it the biscotti without thinking.

When Phi returns she gets down on her knees in front of hamlet with horatio

Phi: What about today? What are you speaking today?

Speaking to her around his mouth of biscotti “I dunno what am I speaking today?”

This pings for Rana like hey…

Diem comes down as Ixayl'anu is talking about what happened.

Rana healing words the mouse. 7 pts healing. He immediately wakes up and feels great.

Mouse while cleaning his face: I feel really great?!

Ixayl'anu: You want some biscotti?

Mouse (very distrusting): Yes...

She sets the biscotti down. After awhile she’s half grinning and looking at her mom now.

Rana to the group: They just do that around here, always have.

Romy: That’s why the rumor mill here is so lively.

Diem: Why draconic?

(missed conversation)

Rana: Most people understand at least a few words.

Diem: What’s the local lore on it all? I mean...there’s gotta be stories involved?

Romy: The local lore - I did ask around since I’m not from here, it was very strange at the beginning but the townspeople didn’t seem to be bothered, the general consensus is that it’s a blessing of Vkandis.

Diem gets us all talking about maybe the silver scale dragon living nearby as they also share what they remembered about such events after they woke up.

Rana insists she would’ve seen it

Romy thinks you would know though, Diem mentions that they slept with one and didn’t know until the next day though so...

Romy: Rana you did see those kites though (a local cryptid)…?

Rana: That was definitely not a dragon.

Ixayl’anu: Birds? What?

Rana: They almost look like a roc but they’re definitely not rocs (some people write them off as rocs or pterodactyls but the markings are different they are an air cryptid - Ropen from New Guinea).

We get enough from context to realize this is an unusual sighting, but we are not outright told it’s a local cryptid, like spotting bigfoot.

We are told to watch what we say because the bakers bribe the birds and the whole town will end up knowing.

Rana: That thing is def not a dragon though.

Romy admits she’s never even seen a dragon before.

Rana: Diem rode it

Diem (laughing): In more ways than one

Phi laughs too

Rana still insists she would know if one of the townspeople were a dragon though while Diem insists you really couldn’t know that for sure, what if they just enjoyed a simple life and to avoid discovery they just chose a form that aged with the town, no one the wiser. Rana still insists it’s not possible.

Diem: So sure you’d know? We’ve traveled a month together on the road practically living together. How do you actually know I’m not a dragon?

Rana: I don’t.

Prepared for a similar pushback, this admission clearly surprises Diem. “And yet you’re this sure about people you haven’t spent every waking moment with?”

Rana says she thinks if you are not living time people need to know they need to know they will find out what you are doing.

Ixayl'anu: It could just be sleeping somewhere.

Rana: Either way this is just a normal thing

Ixayl’anu: Sure not really but sure.

Diem: Could be the innkeeper and has always been an innkeeper because they enjoy it. Everybody needs a hobby.

Ixayl'anu wants to know if V’kandis has anything to do with dragons.

(It is at this point we are informed that we’ve seen Romy has a shrine to V’kandis in the house as we’ve ignored this fact in favor of being like oh no, it’s not ‘cause a god blessed your town, it’s because of a secret dragon!).

Ixayl'anu scoots the mouse on his way and turns the topic of discussion toward our reasons for being in Longview and Anesh: So we’re looking for this dwarf?

Rana: No we’re looking for my brother

Ixayl’anu: Does he know where he is?

Rana: Maybe.

Phi: How old is he?

Rana: Older than I am

Phi: Oh, so definitely should’ve had more kids by now

Diem: Wait, Phi how many kids do you have then?

Phi (mishearing): Ooooh lemme get back to you on that...between 80 and 50.

Diem: You have at least 50 kids?

Phi: Oh no I have 0 kids, I don’t have that kind of life.

Rana herds us out the door, she leaves most of her heavier stuff at home.

(To Stellan’s house we go)

For some reason we established Diem definitely gets changed under an illusion of Ixayl'anu ever since using her image as a changing screen back in Budelia. Ixayl’anu has no problem with that, but they’ve all probably seen flashes of Diem’s side and leg tattoos anyway over the month we’ve been together.

Before we leave the house Diem casts comprehend languages as ritual. The birds quiet as we approach, but then the chattering starts up and we catch names and normal gossip presumably about people around town.

Ixayl’anu and Diem have a bit of a side chat about this in the RP text snippets section.

We have an uneventful walk over.

We walk in without knocking - Stell is clearly working on a sword or piece of armor.

Amira (the little girl def notices our presence, specifically Rana’s)

Rana quietly holds out her arms for a hug and Amira runs over squealing with excitement.

Diem: That is so adorable.

Rana scoops her up and has her on her hip now.

Amira looks at us and her eyes get really big - like who are you all? With continued excitement.

Stellan takes notice, surprised Rana brought friends, but still busy hammering out the sword.

Rana: Did you get your pigeons?

Stellan (withering look at his sister): I got THREE pigeons, yes.

Rana grins even bigger at his tone and expression.

Stellan is still working on whatever he’s hammering into during this exchange.

Rana: I was worried they wouldn’t get through so I had to send 3 of them.

Stellan: Well they all got here - first one was very surprising, after 3 though...

Phi: What was the message again Rana?

Rana: Oh, I sent him pigeons telling him about the meteorites and that we knew they were going to hit Anesh but we didn’t know where.

Stellan lets us know the meteors have been diverted and are scheduled to hit somewhere in the desert where there are no people.

Rana nods

Diem: Did they use magic to divert them?

Stell: You’re not from around here are you? Must suck to be from a place without a god that cares what happens to you.

He is a BIG guy. He stops hammering to shake our hands

Phi shakes with both hands to see how much she can get them around one of his (she can’t, there’s a gap between her fingertips).

He is very amused to have Phi forcibly shaking his hand with both of hers.

Meanwhile, Hamlet pokes out and gets on Rana’s shoulder to investigate the new passenger on Rana’s hip.

Amira: You have a new pet?

Rana: Yes, but this one is coming with me - you can still play with him for a bit.

Hamlet: What?

Amira in draconic: Wanna be my friend and play?

Hamlet: Okay!

Diem said some things during the exchange I forgot to note (probably a few cool stories about auntie Rana idk, asking about her speaking draconic?) that resulted in Amira excitedly adopting them for a tour of the house/playing with Hamlet. They follow Amira’s excited lead to do just that, but not before stopping near the next doorway for introductions to Adri, her mother.

Diem to Adri: She’s very adorable

Amira (talking about Aunt Rana): Look! She has a pet rat can we have a pet rat too?

Rana: I could probably get them a pet rat?

Adri: I could probably also get them one, if they’re responsible enough and can prove they’re ready to take care of it.

Some possible missed conversation before Adri, Amira, Diem, and Hamlet head deeper into the house while Rana continues talking to her brother.

Rana asks about the dwarf and shows him both the letter and silver scale, which he looks at while listening to the story about the wizard in the shadowoods

Stell: Are you sure it was Haldric that they wanted?

Rana: Yes (she double checks letter)

Stell: I know a Haldric Ironband but he’s a master blacksmith, but I...he...he’s never mentioned anything about wizards or honestly going anywhere so far away?

Rana: To be fair the wizard seemed to know who I was so maybe Haldric never met him either.

Stell: I don’t know this sounds like destiny hero bullshit

Phi is internally happy screaming about oh my god this actually works (it’s just as well that I never noted what actually works since the rest of us might only notice Phi’s happy scream state, rather than mind-reading the reason for it)!

Everyone but Diem learns this shorthand info I can’t entirely follow after the fact. My shorthand is awful and I’ve discovered I am unlikely to remember how to coherently type it later: Bhuxodihr for some reason you do want to mention t by the proper name he’s mostly retired, teaches to a select few, not stellan’s master. Haldric was stellan’s master’s master

Rana holds up the silver scale (again? I guess? lol) “You know what this would signify?” she hands it over to him. “Retin said we could use this, that it would give us legitimacy”

Stellan tests the hardness of it, getting higher and higher and Rana lets him and still nothing happens “Uh…(hands it back) I’m pretty sure this is the real thing.”

Rana: Real dragon scale?

Stellan: Mhm

Rana: Well that’s interesting

Stellan: Who did you say gave this to you again?

Rana: Retin, a wizard who lives in the Rethwellian Shadowoods

Stellan: I think Haldric knew someone down there but they weren’t genasi

Phi and Ixayl’anu tell him that we had a whole argument about it and deduced that Retin takes on the form of whatever will make you feel connected/more at home.

Phi or Ixayl’anu bring up how weird it is that all the animals here speak draconic.

Stellan, however, has hit his limit for weird shit, though not animals speaking draconic - that is a thing that’s completely normal.

Phi awkwardly: You should come visit us some time too, was great meeting you...or...yeah.

Ixayl’anu: Where would he meet us?

Phi: I have a home

Ixayl’anu: But you’re not really there

Phi: Well we can arrange it ahead of time.

Rana: She does have connections in Miova if you every go out that way.

Stellan says some things to Phi about all this, but as he’s talking he looks at her and she sees the moment when he notices her daggers and stops.

Stellan: Where did you get those?

Phi: They’re family heirlooms

Stellan: Nooo….where did you really get those? You can’t take those into stone roost or even bouldergap, not displayed on your hips like that.

Phi: Interesting you say that I was already thinking I should hide them because we found them on the skeleton of a dwarf in a cave in the woods

Ixayl'anu: No it was a corpse

Rana statues a little bit (which Stellan would notice)

Phi: There was a dwarf corpse, yes…

Stellan holds his hands up like ‘I don’t want to hear it’ and points at Phi: You cannot wear those, they’re only given to an elite group of dwarves and they do NOT give them to gnomes, you have to keep them hidden.

A few questions are asked about that. As far as Stellan knows, they’re assassins of some kind.

Phi: So do they have other weapons with the same characteristics?

Stellan: Sometimes they have short swords but not any arrows or large blades - just the small bladed weapons and it was a thing he wasn’t allowed to learn because he’s not a dwarf.

Phi: Do you know anybody who was in this group?

Stellan: No mostly these guys are like--

Rana (talking over him): I don’t think my brother knows any dwarvish assassins

Phi: If I were to return them to the right people, who would I talk to?

Stellan just looks at her for a few seconds: I don’t know if you just heard me but these guys don’t really advertised themselves

Ixayl’anu: Is this a group we wanna have anything to do with or just avoid them?

Stellan: If you’re really determined to get them back to someone, you might try Haldric, but I wouldn’t lead with that.

Ixayl’anu: Are they better to just be avoided?

Stellan: I wouldn’t wanna mess with them but you’re all out there dealing with meteors and who knows what else so maybe that’s what you do now, I don’t know.

Rana: This dwarf found the meteor too and turned into a mushroom

Stellan takes a deep breath.

Rana is enjoying making him uncomfortable now

They all talk about our bag of holding and hiding the weapons, Phi stashes them and pulls out her ordinary daggers to secure in their place.

Rana as they talk about possibly disguising Phi’s daggers: Oh mom has some camels now if you need one, there’re 3

Stellan: Okay I’ll take care of them for you

Rana: Do you want them to talk? I can make them talk.

Stellan (not amused): No, the pigeons are enough.

Phi: Thank you for the information

Rana: Yeah, I would like to not get killed by the people we were looking for

Phi: Yeah that would not be good

Rana: I’m gonna go corrupt tanny for a bit

Stellan: Yeah i’m gonna go back over here and...think about things

Rana: I let mom know everything so you can talk to her later.

At some point before they finish talking to Stellan, Ixayl'anu was looking for signs of jewelry in Stellan’s forge. She saw some platinum but didn’t really see any jewelry (because she needs a platinum ring). She asks him about it anyway while we’re there and it’s simple enough he melts down two platinum coins to make a simple ring for her out of it. He doesn’t even charge her for them since he already has the forge fired up.

He does have Amira help him since he rarely works with platinum and it makes a good teachable moment that takes about 10 minutes.

Meanwhile, Adri has been following Amira and Diem around, Diem gets introduced to Taniel, 10, who probably is working on magic homework, they got really into potion making because they fan Rana and Rana brings herbs back - real into that right now.

Taniel gets up to see Aunt Rana, but Adri warns her to wait a bit they’re talking about tense things right now.

Through conversation along the tour Diem gets that Adri speaks draconic and has been teaching her kids.

Diem makes casual conversation that includes whether or not Adri grew up here and when/why she learned draconic.

About that time Rana walks in and Taniel gives her a big hug and tells her about her new obsession

Adri answers Diem that it makes sense from a guard’s stand point so she learned it, birds are awfully helpful

Diem: Oh yeah that makes sense

Rana: Yeah, Adri is very good at her job

Diem: You look it, you are killing it in that outfit (she is amused), I’m...yeah, not surprising I wouldn’t make a good guard, I even need help when we take watches (said in good humor)

Ixayl'anu stands awkwardly in the door until Adri invites her in properly (because she’s secretly a vampire! shhh)

Rana: We’re not gonna be in town for terribly long, I was just hoping Stellan had some of the info I needed and he did.

Adri: What info?

Rana: Oh I was sent by a wizard to find someone named Haldric who might be in stone roost and I thought Stellan might know him.

Adri takes it in stride “Well, be safe.”

Rana drops in that it has to do with the meteor.

Nearing the end of the conversation and visit, Phi asks if we can run by a general store to get medical kit supplies to complete her partial kit.

When we have to leave Amira is sad about the rat having to go and starts asking for a rat again in super sad puppy fashion.

Adri tells her they’ll still have to see and Diem distracts both children by pulling out the self-animating putty to give them as a gift, telling them how they can shape their own rat or whatever they like and it moves (makes a little rat and sets it down to walk around on the table and lick a paw clean) see?

Their imaginations take off with excited chatter about making tiny dragons and more, once again happy.

(A trip to the general store)

Rana takes us to Bafor’s general store (Bafor is a dragonborn).

Phi tells us that we would have noticed how Phi progressively jumped on this field medic train and as things have gotten dangerous and sketchy. Phi realized it would be handy to have some skills in healing just in case - more so ever since Phi found the medical supplies in Budelia and ever since Averni she’s been doing a little research here and there, including medical knowledge heading out into the new terrain of Anesh, like what to do for heatstroke and working on more survival skills. Over the journey she’s brought it up a few times to Rana and Edea, and Rana readily taught her some of her new feat requirements from her similar healer feat. Phi wants to eventually learn to make her own poisons too for maybe a damage over time, but also poison check and knowing what to do about poisons in order to help heal them.

Phi’s medicine check will also apply to her background skills, diagnosing a wound, how they died (starving, madness, dehydration, container recently held poison, blood spatter analysis, forensic stuff is part of her past).

Combat triage is cool and useful.

Ruled that with her medical proficiency feat she can diagnose poisons and such, but she would have to take a separate feat to make a poison and do dmg over time.

Phi walks into the store and admits she’s filling out the healer’s kit.

Rana says she has those items already and they have this conversation in the store. All along though she and Rana have talked about this over the month we’ve known each other.

Bafor: Yeah I have the little items, but you could also just buy a new healer’s kit already filled.

Phi: Yeah why don’t I just do that.

Bafor: Tell you what, you buy a whole healer’s kit and I will fill out your other one for free.

I think we hit a fruit stand or a different store where the vendor is gruff but warms up as we spend money (because that was a note for the vendor attached to all these dried fruits, but Bafor seemed pretty amenable from the start).

Phi and Diem also buy a big bag of granola for a silver each, and some dried fruits (Anesh grows pomegranate, apricots, olives)

Diem also buys a bag of mixed dried fruit, dried apricots, and a pomegranate (for a silver each)

#Longview #Anesh #Romy #A talk with Rana's mom #Stellan #A talk with Rana's brother #critter mysteries the draconic edition #Adri #Amira #Bafor #Taniel #Haldric mention #Retin mention

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amydancepants-peralta · 5 years

Text

i love your precious heart

(chapter seven of we’re the fortunate ones) ♥️

season seven: i love your precious heart

For the longest time, there was a part of Jake Peralta that genuinely didn’t believe he was deserving of any special kind of love or affection. Years of rejection; from the revolving doors made up of fathers, step-fathers and short-lived relationships, had led to the once quiet inner voices growing louder - reminding him every chance they could that any state of legitimate happiness simply was not meant for him.

(Dr. Marcia, the therapist he’s been seeing once a fortnight for a close to a year now, has helped him to understand this.)

This New Year’s Eve, standing here on the fire escape that runs along the outside of the apartment he shares with his wife, is not one of those moments.

Their plans for the evening had skewed slightly from their original schedule, partially because Jake had heard the sighs of dejection Amy made when she’d returned yet another ill-fitting dress back into their wardrobe. Her body is changing in a lot of ways this year - some of them rapidly, others sneaking up on her so slowly it drove her insane - and when he remembered that Amy hadn’t really had the chance to go shopping for a decent range of maternity clothes yet, Jake had moved quickly to devise an alternative plan that seemed both spontaneous and not-at-all-related to a lack of party outfit options.

Pouring them each a glass of sparkling apple cider (if Amy can’t drink, then Jake can’t drink - and he’s not interested in hearing arguments that suggest otherwise), he had googled events that were happening nearby, found one with fireworks, and with his brilliant detective skills had deduced that their fire escape will face exactly the right direction to watch the show without ever having to leave their house. And maybe Amy had already been hoping that he would come to the same conclusion, or maybe she was just a really big fan of fire escape parties (he suspects, though, that it is the former) but either way, her dress had been swapped for sweatpants within minutes of Jake’s suggestion, and the relaxation on her face simply made her all the more beautiful.

They’d spent the entire evening rotating between the living room and the tiny space outside that Jake had stocked up with blankets and snacks, talking and laughing as they reminisced the year that was. There had even been a sweet little slow dance, to a song playing on Jake’s phone as it stayed nestled in his pocket - and it would have been totally romantic, if it hadn’t been interrupted by some dude yarfing onto the street below. Still, the feeling of holding his wife in his arms, while their baby stayed nestled in-between them, was something that Jake will hold onto forever.

The breeze has grown colder now, the wind rustling through Jake’s hair as he waits for Amy to return from her seventeenth trip to the bathroom (sadly, not an exaggeration), and as he reaches into the storage box for another blanket for his wife, Jake finds himself looking back on the last few months with a smile. Even now, there’s a tiny piece of his mind that is still incredulous that she is pregnant - that the two of them are having a baby. In just four short months, there will be a tiny human that is part Amy, part Jake and wholly them, and he’s never ever been more excited for the future.

He can still recall the moment it had all changed for the better - when Amy had turned to him with the brightest smile he had ever seen, and nodded her head. He’d sat beside her on the floor of their bathroom for longer than he’d realised, staring at the plastic stick with it’s stamped lettering and two thin red lines that told him that Amy was pregnant. His eyes had kept darting from left to right, his brain frantically trying to reassure himself that he was, in fact, reading it all correctly. That the love of his life was carrying his child, and the world as he knew it was never going to be the same again. It just … hadn’t made any sense, how easily it had all changed. Every part of his life involved filling out some sort of paperwork or prior approval or whatever - it was a reality that he merely tolerated, but Amy adored. But, in the blink of an eye (and a round of admittedly great sex), Jake Peralta was going to be a father.

Deciding to start trying had been one of the most uncomplicated decisions of his life, and one that he hasn’t reconsidered for a second (it had surprised him at first, how easily it came to him - but that’s the thing about finally being in a secure relationship. Even the things that terrified him the most, suddenly didn’t seem so bad when he knew Amy would be by his side). But it had stunned him, how in just one moment, seeing the word pregnant on a little piece of plastic had made him fall in love with something (or someone, really) that he hadn’t even met.

He had known, in approximately 0.0003 seconds after seeing their daughter for the very first time on the ultrasound screen, that he wouldn’t ever do anything that could hurt her. That he will fight for her safety and security, with every fibre of his being, until the very last day of his life. This tiny little shadow on the screen, with it’s echoing heartbeat and what thankfully looked to be Amy’s nose, was now the single-most greatest thing that Jake had ever done: and nothing was ever going to change that. These past few months have made Jake understand his father even less, and appreciate Amy all the more, if for nothing else than the fact that she’d given Jake a second chance to show just how capable - and deserving - of love he can be.

Hearing a soft grunt to his left, Jake turns his head in time to see Amy wriggling through the window frame, the swell of her belly turning what used to be an easy move into something that requires a little more finesse. There’s a soft metallic thud that reverberates towards the empty streets below as both of her slipper covered feet hit the gridded surface, and she grins in triumph before making her way over to Jake.

“Starting to get over this whole ‘needing to pee every half hour’ thing that I’ve got going on.”

Grinning, Jake leans against the balustrade of their makeshift balcony, ignoring the gentle dig of the metal against his skin. “I mean, you know my feelings about water, hun.”

Raising an eyebrow, Amy shakes her head in response. “Hate to tell you this, but all I’ve been drinking today is orange soda - and we both know that’s your genes at play here, Peralta.” Amy winks at Jake’s responsive wince, cupping his chin in her hand as she pulls him closer for a quick kiss. “It’s a good thing that I love you, huh?”

“Oh, it’s a very good thing, Ames.” The best thing ever, actually, that she loves him. She tells him a lot - even more so since falling pregnant, a side effect that has been hated by absolutely no-one - and every time feels better than the last.

A car passes them below, the loud music pumping from the speakers and filtering it’s way up to the two of them, and Amy looks down at her sweats, turning to give Jake an apprehensive look. “What a wild New Year’s Eve we’ve ended up having. Maybe we should have gone to Terry’s party after all? I mean, it is the last child free one we’re going to have for a long time.”

Slinging an arm around Amy’s shoulders, Jake pulls her closer to him, smiling as her hand wraps around his waist in a move that is absolutely second nature. “No way, Ames. I’ve got my two best girls here with me, and in five minutes I’m going to have the greatest seats in New York as that building over there lets off fireworks from their roof. Terry’s party can suck it.”

Right now, a bunch of fugitives could climb out from the sewer clutching diamonds from the biggest jeweller in town, and he wouldn’t move. Bruce Willis himself could knock on the door, and Jake would tell him that he needed to come back tomorrow (please, please, please - come back tomorrow).

This was his home - he’d built a world between these four walls, with the love of his life - the only one to run a hand over his scars, both physical and mental, and still call him beautiful. His partner, in every way imaginable, and easily the greatest person he’s ever known. And just when he didn’t think she could be any more magic, she’d begun carrying their child, and now he is absolutely certain that Amy is completely made of stardust.

Even when her hormones are out of control, and she’s yelling at him for not mixing enough pickles into her ice cream.

There was nowhere he’d rather be, and nobody he’d rather be with. Literally everything he needed, for the rest of his life, was right here in his arms.

(Okay yes, technically he would eventually need orange soda and gummy worms and maybe some water if Amy insisted. But there was a healthy stock of all that in their kitchen, and by ‘right here’ he obviously means their apartment.)

Amy hums - this sweet little hmmming sound that Jake knows to mean contentment ever since he heard it on their first night together, a sound that he’s heard a million times since then and just never, ever fails to transcend him - and she leans a little more of her body weight against him, blinking slowly as fatigue begins to set in. There were countless books and testimonials that told them to get as much sleep as they could, because once the baby came sleep would become a long-lost memory, and Jake could tell that Amy was secretly dying to curl up into bed. Baby-growing, it would seem, was a highly exhaustive task - and in all honesty the idea of curling up underneath the blanket with her for the rest of the evening sounded kind of amazing.

Jake’s just about to suggest a retreat to their bedroom when he hears the first whoosh of a firework streaking through the sky, the subsequent explosion of light piercing his eyes as tiny blue stars litter their previously dark canvas. Either the revellers had decided to celebrate early, or his watch was slow (entirely possible, he’d bought it for three whole dollars at their local bodega) - whatever the reason, Jake cannot help the smile that stretches across his face as more colours begin to light the sky.

Now completely awake, Amy moves closer still to Jake, standing in front of him and gripping his forearms in her hands when they wrap around her clavicle. From behind Jake can hear her tiny gasps as each bang and pop takes place, and after a minute he cries out in surprise, moving quickly to place his hands on either side of Amy’s pregnant belly in a protective stance.

Shifting her head to the side, Amy looks at Jake in confusion, pointing downwards. “What’s with the sudden coverage, babe?”

Eyes wide and earnest, Jake nods in the direction of his hands, explaining - “I’ve got to protect the baby’s ears, Ames! These fireworks are loud - and what if she’s asleep right now? She’s part Peralta, and you and I both know Peraltas are NOT a fan of being woken up.”

Amy laughs, her nose crinkling up in that completely adorable way that Jake absolutely loves, shaking her head as her fingers link with his on either side of her bump. “Our baby is totally fine in there, Jake. But I love you so much for thinking of her right now.” There’s a slight shift underneath Jake’s hands, and he can’t be sure if it’s a kick of just a general nudge from their daughter, but either way he takes it as a sign that their little one agrees with Amy’s statement. Nodding; he smiles at Amy, suddenly feeling a little foolish - but perhaps, he’s just foolishly in love. Above them, the fireworks continue to explode, only now they don’t seem so loud.

Moving one hand away from his, Amy cups the back of Jake’s neck, gently pulling him downwards for a soft kiss. “Only five months in, and you’re already the greatest dad ever,” she whispers against his lips, pressing against them with her own once more. He’s blushing by the time she pulls away, he can feel it in the sudden tingle of his cheeks, but all he can think about is the title greatest dad ever, and how much he can’t wait until those very words are emblazoned on a mug or some other kind of gift their child decides to buy him. He wants it on hats, and shirts, on socks and a keyring and everywhere in between - because when it came to Jake and fatherhood, there was not a chance in hell that history was going to end up repeating.

“Hey,” came Amy’s soft voice, pulling Jake out of his thoughts as her fingers return to the back of his neck and toy with the curls that live along the bottom of his hairline. Briefly, he remembers that he meant to get his hair cut two weeks ago. “You okay, babe?”

Taking a deep breath, Jake smiles and nods, waiting until Amy has turned to face him completely before tucking a stray strand of hair back behind her ear. “Happy New Year, Ames. I know I’ve said this before, but this year is going to be totally amazing.”

Amy nods back, giggling as Jake swoops in for a kiss. “I’m going to remember this moment when we’re elbow deep in dirty diapers and our eyelids are being held up by toothpicks.”

Joining in on Amy’s laughter, Jake shrugs his shoulders in defeat. “This is probably going to sound insane, and I’m definitely going to deny I ever said this when we’re in that situation; but even that sounds a little bit awesome, because it’ll mean that she’s here and we can hold her and talk to her and just love her for reals.”

“Totally insane, and I completely agree.”

It’s less than an hour later that both Jake and Amy are tucked into bed, the sound of Amy’s gentle snores lulling Jake to sleep as 2020 begins to stretch her limbs. Their apartment is quiet, but filled to the brim with love - right down to the printed sonogram, sharing the space of a heart-shaped magnet with a photo of a young couple falling for each other - and there is a small room adjacent to the kitchen that is almost ready for it’s tiny occupant to arrive.

As his eyelids grow heavy, Jake thinks back to all the years he and Amy had spent together, and how many times they’ve had to push back against all the things that have tried to keep them apart. He knows now that it was worth it - all of it was worth it - because truly, the best was yet to come.

#myfic #so pumped we have the option to write pregnancy/baby related fics now!#the options!#mine #b99 fanfic #peraltiago fanfiction #jake x amy fic #b99 fanfiction #b99 2020 vision challenge

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spine-buster · 5 years

Text

Alone, Together | Chapter 38 | Morgan Rielly

A/N: Many thanks again for understanding why I couldn’t upload last week. We’re in the homestretch now and nearing the end of the story (only two more official chapters -- eeeeek!). Remember that canon questions are always welcome, and there will be at least four (4) “epilogues”/glimpses into the future.

When Bee awoke to soft, quick butterfly kisses on her shoulder and neck early in the morning of her 24th birthday, she knew she was waking up in her own personal form of paradise. With the comforter draped over her body, the morning sun peeking through the blinds, the strong arms wrapped around her body, holding her close – there was nothing better. She could wake up like this everyday.

Wait.

She did wake up like this everyday. Well, almost everyday.

Morgan’s breath was hot against her neck as he continued to kiss and suck lightly on her skin. She moved her legs slightly and backed her ass onto his already hardening member. He groaned slightly, knowing that she was now awake.

“Happy birthday, beautiful,” he mumbled into the crook of her neck. His voice was sleepy, scraggly, and low. She couldn’t help but smile, feeling like the luckiest girl in the world. She turned around to face him.

It didn’t matter that Morgan just had a giant photoshoot and campaign released with RW&Co that saw him looking like a five course meal in a variety of different suits. It didn’t matter that soon she’d be seeing him in suits almost every other night going in and out of Scotiabank Arena. None of it mattered. Her favourite Morgan was here, in bed with her, drowsy blue eyes and messy hair and scruff on his face, his body warm with a cheeky smile adorning his face. This was the best Morgan. This was the Morgan she fell in love with. Not the one situated in front of the cameras, giving answers. Not the one who signed up for sponsorship opportunities with Nike and Hockey Night in Canada and whatever else. Not the hockey player playing over 20 minutes a night. This Morgan. Simple Morgan. The Morgan she saw when they were alone together.

She really was the luckiest girl in the world.

“I love you,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him.

“I love you too,” he responded, leaning in to kiss her again before their lips and tongues were all over one another’s, kissing passionately for what felt like hours before they had to stop to catch their breath.

It was then that Bee brought her hand up, caressing his cheek, her thumb outlining his lips. “I didn’t think…” she began, wondering if she should even say it. She hesitating before deciding yes, she should say it, because it was her 24th birthday and her feelings should be out in the open for Morgan to know. “I didn’t think I was capable of loving another person this much.”

His big blue eyes flashed at her admission. “I didn’t think I could, either,” he admitted.

“But it’s different for me.”

Morgan nodded his head. He knew what she meant. He knew that this was something that had been on her mind for a while, leading up to day, her birthday. He knew that she probably wanted to express it before, but didn’t think she could, or should, because of one reason or another that she told herself. But she did now. “Just think. We have the rest of our lives to feel it. To show it.”

Bee couldn’t help but smile before giving him another kiss. “Show me. Show me right now.”

Morgan was more than ready to oblige. He attached his lips to hers again and moved so that his body was over hers. Luckily, he slept without a shirt that night, so when Bee’s hands began to wander over his chest and back and along his shoulders, he was able to feel her delicate touch and her nails sinking gently into his skin, in the area between his shoulder blades. Almost immediately, his hand wandered underneath her shirt – one of his old shirts, technically – and began cupping her breast and pinching her nipple, causing her to arch her back slightly. In no time at all, he shoved the shirt all the way up, over her head, and threw it behind them on the bed.

With Bee underneath him, Morgan took advantage of the situation by kissing from her lips, across her jawline, along her neck and clavicle, all the way to her breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth. He heard Bee let out a small gasp, and that was all he needed to keep going. He paid her breasts a lot of attention, sucking and caressing them, Bee’s soft sighs his fuel for not stopping for a while until he was hungry for more. He began kissing his way down her soft stomach, only for her to stop him.

“Later. Later later later,” she mumbled quickly, trying to pull him back up.

“What? Briony--” Morgan was confused. There was no way. No way he was not going to--

“I just want you in me right now. I want to feel you inside me,” she whispered out, her voice frantic. “Please Morgan.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. I just want to feel you inside me.”

Her pulled her pyjama bottoms off before doing the same with his. Bee wrapped her legs around his torso as he hovered over her and began kissing her again – light, airy kisses until she could feel him at her entrance, pushing in slowly. Another light gasp escaped her lips as he bottomed out. “I love you baby,” she whispered in between more kisses, sighing into him as she began to feel him begin to move in and out of her slowly. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” he replied automatically. He stopped kissing her momentarily to get a good look at her. “Remember the night of the home opener? Karl Marx?”

Bee couldn’t help but smile at the memory. That was the night he tried to seduce her by talking about economics, only to ruin the whole thing and send her into a fit of giggles by mentioning Alan Greenspan. “”Mhm,” she nodded, digging her nails into his shoulder blades again. “You had quite the uprising in your pants that night.”

“Well I’ve been studying more than usual,” he said. “Did you know that a social safety net is essential to the success of any economy, and that Canada should be investing more into public education and healthcare for a more educated and healthier society?”

Bee snorted, much like she did that night. “You sound like you’re running for Prime Minister in October.”

“Oh, it gets better,” Morgan smiled, kissing her quickly. “I finally learned the difference between microeconomics and macroeconomics.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Micro is individuals and businesses, macro is the decisions of countries and governments.”

Bee couldn’t help but smile. “You get an A plus, baby.”

Morgan kissed her again, letting his lips linger for a while. “And get this,” he paused for dramatic effect. “Friedrich Engels.”

Bee snorted again, louder this time, shaking her head at his ridiculousness. “What’s the going interest rate settled by the Bank of Canada?” she asked to go along with his ridiculousness.

“1.75%,” he said matter of factly.

Her eyes went wide. “Morgan Rielly!” she laughed, messing his hair with her hand.

“That was an easy one,” he winked.

“You’re just looking for extra credit,” she teased, biting her lip. “As if you making love to me isn’t enough.”

“You know me, always gotta go that extra mile,” he joked, dipping down to kiss her again as he began to move in and out of her steadily, keeping his lips attached to hers.

It was cheesy, and perhaps a bit overused and repetitive thing to say, but as they lay in the bed together, holding each other and kissing and looking deep into each other’s eyes, Bee thought that there was nothing better than making love. The laughing, the jokes, the soft ‘I love you’s escaping their mouths – she loved it all. There was nothing more intimate. There was nothing more soft. There was nothing more that she longed for, that she would long for, when he was gone for the season again.

They came together, naturally, as they knew they would in such a position and with such intimacy. There were more kisses and more bites as they came down from their highs, Morgan collapsing on top of her gently with her legs still wrapped around him. Bee made sure he didn’t move, that he didn’t slip out, savouring the warmth and the feeling of him within her as they regained their breaths, drifting off into a light sleep again, without a care about the outside world.

***

“Can I give you your presents now?”

Bee gave Morgan a look. She had just finished putting on her outfit for the day – “We’re not doing anything fancy until tonight, so keep it casual for now,” Morgan told her, so she opted for a simple scalloped top and jeans – and still needed to decide what to do with her hair. When she looked at him, she could tell he was a bit antsy and didn’t wait to wait. “Let me just put my hair in a bun,” she said, grabbing the elastic from her wrist and putting it in her mouth.

“I’m gonna get them,” she said, immediately shooting up from the bed. She laughed to herself, quickly twisting her hair and securing it tightly with her elastic. When Morgan arrived back in the room carrying two envelopes, Bee couldn’t help the look of shock on her face. It was definitely not that she was expecting more, it was that she was surprised Morgan wasn’t hauling in the entire Chanel store. He warned her he was going to be “a lot”; she told him not to go crazy.

“What’s this?” she asked as he sat beside her on the bed, turning to face her.

“Just a little somethin’,” he wiggled his eyebrows comically. “You need to open this one first.”

“Are you mocking me?” she asked, remembering back to when she told him he needed to open his gifts in a particular order for his own birthday.

“No. Just open it, baby.”

She tore open the envelope delicately to reveal six tickets. When she took a closer look, she noticed that they were for the Saturday, October 26th game the Leafs were having against the Montreal Canadiens. In Montreal. “Tickets to a game?”

“Mhm.”

“In Montreal?”

“Yup. Because I know you’ve never been there. I thought it’d be a good opportunity for you to take a weekend trip there.”

A smile crept its way onto her face. She knew what he was doing. “But…but why are there six tickets?”

“Do you really think I’m going to send you to Montreal and not give the Queen of Montreal herself, Clarette Favaro, and her family tickets as well?” Morgan posed.

Bee’s eyes immediately lit up. “They’re coming too?!” she asked. Morgan nodded his head. “Me, Angie, Mason, Rocco, Clarette, and Josh?”

“You got it.”

“Morgan!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him and climbing on top of his lap. She began peppering his face with kisses, mumbling thank you after thank you. She knew her first trip to Montreal would be a memorable one.

“There’s still one more,” he mumbled in between kisses.

“Oh, right,” she remembered, though she stayed on his lap as Morgan handed her the second envelope. She tore it open delicately again to reveal more tickets. This time, it was just one. And this time, when she looked closely at the details, it was for the game against Colorado on Saturday, November 23rd. In Colorado.

“Bumblebee?” Morgan asked softly, noticing that she was taking a bit of time to take in what was before her.

“Am I…” she began, pausing. She looked him in the eye. “Am I going to Colorado?”

“You’re going to Colorado.”

“To visit Ashley and Naz and Naylah?”

“To visit Ashley, Naz, and Naylah.”

Bee hesitated before she put the envelope down on the bed beside them and wrapped her arms around Morgan again tightly. She tucked her head into the crook of his neck before exhaling deeply, trying to contain her emotions. “I love you so much,” she mumbled, her lips grazing his skin. “I love you so so so so so much.”

“I love you too.”

“No, you don’t get it. I love love love you.”

Morgan chuckled slightly. “I love love love love you too,” he said, squeezing her tightly. “Always, Bumblebee. Always.”

She untucked her head and brought her hands up to cradle his face, kissing him again. She didn’t want to leave. She could have stayed in this position and in the moment for the rest of the day. They didn’t need to do anything else. It was only when he moved to stand, bringing her with him, that she yelped and stopped kissing him. “Morgan!” she screamed, giggling slightly.

“C’mon, we gotta go. I gotta take you out for the day. We’re gonna be busy,” he said in between quick kisses.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” he said before kissing her again.

She rolled her eyes before looking down at the way his arms looked, his muscles bulging as he held her in his arms. “Jesus, Mo,” she muttered under her breath, her fingertips grazing his skin. He kept up his workout regimen all summer, and while she usually noticed the changes in his body, for some reason, she hadn’t quite picked up on how…jacked he’d gotten. It was like whatever fat he had last year had turned into muscle and she could now reap the rewards. “Can you carry me the whole way there?”

“Carry you?”

“So I can see your muscles,” she looked down at them, causing him to look down as well. “They grew, baby.”

“They better have, I’ve been lifting all summer.”

Bee giggled slightly. “Bro, do you even lift?”

“Do you seriously want me to carry you all the way to the car?” he asked.

“No!”

“I can – if you want. I mean it’s your bir--”

“Oh shush,” she wiggled out of his grasp until her feet were firmly planted on the floor, despite his arms still being around her waist. “Just promise you’ll wear something tonight that shows off that body.”

“You better promise the same thing,” he said, winking at her before slapping her ass.

***

Bee was a little bit confused as she and Morgan arrived at the Eaton’s Centre. As they walked together, Bee tried to think of the possibilities of where they could end up, but she couldn’t think of why he’d bring her to a mall. She was even more confused when he still refused to tell her where they were going. When he made an abrupt stop in front of the Indigo and gave her a look, she was still…well, confused.

“So you brought me to Indigo…” she said, trying to piece the whole thing together. “Why?”

“So you could go crazy,” he said simply.

“Go crazy how?” she asked. She still didn’t get it.

Morgan couldn’t help but chuckle. “You have that list of books you want.”

He was referring to the ongoing list she was curating of all the books she wanted to read and have in her life. Of course, it was constantly changing based on all the new releases. “Yeah…”

“Indigo is a bookstore, Briony. And if you don’t find them here we’ll drive up to Bay and Bloor and get them there. And if not there, we’ll call Yorkdale, Square One…”

She was finally piecing the puzzle together. “You…you want…” she began, doubt somehow still getting the best of her. She took a step forward, but then a step back; her right leg outstretched, waiting to take its step, her body shifting between her two feet, rocking forward and back while standing. She couldn’t move. “You’re…you’re serious?”

“Of course I’m serious,” he said. “C’mon Bumbleblee. I know you’ve always wanted to build your collection.”

He watched as a smile crept its way onto her face. Small at first, almost non-existent, then getting bigger and bigger, eventually taking over her entire face. “I don’t…you’re absolutely sure, Morgan.”

Morgan rolled his eyes. “Did you really think your birthday present wouldn’t involve books?” he asked rhetorically. “I am positive. Now go.”

***

The day had been everything that Bee could have ever wanted.

She bought most of the books on her list. Morgan followed her around, holding the books and putting them into a rolling basket and wheeling it to the front cash registers, telling the employees “We’re going to need more baskets”, then filling up more baskets with books and asking another employee “Are there any more baskets?” and filling those too. By the end of it, after the books had all been bought and were loaded, bag by bag, into Morgan’s car, she looked at all the bags overflowing and said “We’re gonna need more bookcases.”

It took most of the day. So when they got back home, they showered for their night festivities. Except, well, Morgan had other ideas. He wanted to use the showerhead for other purposes. And he did. And he also wanted to use his hands for other purposes. And he did. And it made them a little late for dinner at Jacobs and Co, the famous steakhouse, but by only 20 minutes or so. Then after some great steak, and some even better wine, they stumbled their way over to Early Mercy, right next door, where Angie and Mason, Josh and his boyfriend Patrick, Zach and Alannah, Auston, and Fred were waiting to surprise her and dance the night away. Tyler even surprised her with his attendance, and she practically pushed Auston out of the way to run to him and hug him, pulling him to dance with everyone else. And they did. They danced and they danced and they danced, and then they relaxed out on the patio, and then they danced again, and then it was last call, and Auston tried to convince the manager to keep it open, but to no avail. And so they called Ubers, at 2:30 in the morning, and Tyler went to stay with Auston and took an UberPool with him and Fred, and Morgan and Bee took theirs, making out in the backseat all the way home.

It was why they were giggly when they stumbled back into their apartment. Their kisses were playful and soft and quick and airy as they made their way in, but the second the door closed behind them, Morgan’s kisses became hungrier, his hands wandering down to squeeze her ass.

“I love you so God damn much,” Bee mumbled in between sloppy kisses in their kitchen.

“Bedroom,” Morgan mumbled hastily. “Bedroom. One more surprise. Bedroom.”

“What?” she pulled away from him. “One more?”

“One more,” he said, grabbing her hand and dragging her through the apartment. He kissed her one last time before disappearing into the washroom, leaving her alone on the bed, hot and desperate and confused as to what the fuck was going on.

“Morgan,” she begged. “I…what…what do I do?”

“Just wait there,” he called out from the other side of the door.

“Just wait?!”

“Make yourself comfortable!”

“Morgan!” she chastised. “You can’t be serious!”

“Briony!”

“I don’t know what you’re up to in there but it better be good!”

“Oh, it’s gonna be spectacular,” his voice was mischievous. “Get comfortable.”

“Can I start touching myself?” Bee asked in an equally mischievous voice.

She heard a loud thump and something drop dramatically from inside the bathroom, causing her to snort. God knows what the fuck he was doing in there. “No,” he said hastily. “Don’t. This is gonna be all me.”

Bee waited as patiently as she could, listening to Morgan fuss around in there without a clue in the world as to what he was doing and what surprise he was keeping up his sleeve. It was, of course, only when he unlocked the door and pushed it open dramatically did Bee get an idea about what was going to happen. Standing there, he leaned up against the doorframe wearing a perfectly tailored suit. Perfectly tailored. Slim fit, just how she liked. Crisp white shirt. Perfectly tailored. Navy blue. Did she mention perfectly tailored? Because it was perfectly tailored. And when he began sauntering towards her, she could see just how perfectly tailored it really was, with his thighs and his broad, defined chest and his arms threatening to rip the fabric if he flexed even slightly. Bee gulped.

“A promise is a promise,” Morgan said in a low voice, a shit-eating smirk on his face as he saw the blush on Bee’s cheeks. “I promised I’d wear something tonight that showed off my body.”

Bee shook her head at his ridiculousness before she noticed him starting to take out his phone. “If you start playing Pony by Ginuwine I swear to God I’m not letting you fuck me tonight,” she giggled out.

Morgan shot her a look. “HEY!”

“Just get over here, will you?” she beckoned; rising to her knees from her sitting position so she could kiss him. Almost immediately, she stuck her tongue down his throat and tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck, causing him to groan and wrap his arms around her body, still covered in her glittering gold sequined dress she bought especially for her birthday.

Morgan’s hands slipped underneath the fabric, playing with the material of her underwear before he helped her get out of them, dropping them in between them onto the floor. Bee’s hands began wandering all over his chest, over the material of his shirt, not bothering to unbutton it. Eventually, Morgan’s hand slipped underneath her dress again and began playing with the lips of her pussy, causing her to whimper in pleasure.

“You’re already so wet for me,” he mumbled as he inserted one finger.

“It’s the suit,” she winked, biting down on his bottom lip as she felt him insert a second finger. “You have no idea how good you look.”

“Lie down on your back and spread your legs for me,” he ordered, his voice low.

There was a flash in Bee’s eyes as Morgan watched her do what she was told. She kept her eyes on him the entire time as she lay on the edge of the bed. Morgan hooked her legs in his arms and pulled her towards the edge, letting them dangle off the bed. He pushed the fabric of her dress up before kneeling in front of her, licking his lips. “I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he said.

“It’s all yours, Mr. Rielly,” she smiled, watching as he dove in. No pretence, no teasing – just going right for it, his lips and tongue attaching themselves to her pussy, bringing Bee – as always – the greatest pleasure she’d ever known. She ran her fingers through his hair and tugged on it as he continued to lap at her hungrily, squeezing his head between her thighs when the feeling was too pleasurable to handle.

“Baby…baby baby baby,” Bee breathed out as she felt him insert two fingers while he sucked on her clit. “Fuck, Morgan, it’s so – it’s so good.”

“Cum on my face,” he ordered again, knowing she was close. He began curling his fingers inside of her, causing her to squirm, and before long, she was screaming out his name, his face becoming wet with her juices as he lapped up every last bit of her. When he was finished, he began smothering her with kisses, and she could taste herself on his mouth as she kissed him back, wrapping her legs around his torso. He began unbuttoning the white shirt he was wearing, but didn’t get too far before Bee stopped him.

“Keep it on. Keep it on,” she mumbled quickly.

His stopped dead in his tracks. “Keep it on?”

“For fuck sakes, keep it on,” her breathing was heavy, her voice hasty. “Keep it on and fuck me.”

He practically growled as he picked her up, her legs still wrapped around him, and held her in his arms. When he placed her onto their dresser, he felt her hands dip between them and unzip his pants, pulling them and his underwear down just enough to free his hard cock. She began stroking it as he moved to kiss down her neck, pushing the fabric of her dress down to expose her breasts in their lace bra. He pushed the lace down and began pinching her nipples, eventually taking one into his mouth and sucking, twirling his tongue around it.

“Morgan, please,” her breath was heavy. “I want you to fuck me so bad. I can’t wait anymore.”

Morgan pulled her off the dresser, turning her around so her back was towards him, bending her over it. He could see her smile as he pushed up the fabric of her dress again so it bunched at her hips. He teased her at her entrance before thrusting into her in one go, causing her to cry out in pleasure. The smile that played on her lips continued as he moved in and out of her. “Fuck Morgan, that feels so good.”

“You like it when I bend you over like this?” he asked, to which Bee nodded her head enthusiastically. “You like me taking you from behind.”

“Yes.”

“Are you gonna be a good girl for your birthday?”

“Yes, fuck, yes. Yes. I’m gonna be your best girl.”

He tugged at her hair, making her arch her back as he pulled her towards him. He kissed and bit at her neck and shoulder, slipping an arm around her body and grabbing one of her breasts. “I love you, baby,” he cooed, biting at her neck. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” she breathed out. “God Morgan, I love you so much.”

“Did you like your birthday?”

She nodded her head. She was finding it hard to keep a conversation while her back was arched the way it was and he was still pounding into her, with his fucking suit on, but this was the situation she found herself in. “Of course I did. This was my best birthday ever because of you.”

He began walking back, slow enough so he wouldn’t slip out, until he fell back onto the bed, Bee’s body with his. She began riding him reverse cowgirl, looking over her shoulder at him lying there, still in his suit, all dishevelled and ready to be ripped off of him. “Cum with me baby. Are you close?”

Morgan nodded his head. “Bounce on that dick, baby.”

She continued riding him, squeezing his thighs over the fabric of his suit, until she squeezed her walls around him and felt him explode inside of her. She came again, her body shaking from pleasure until she fell back onto him trying to catch her breath. She felt his arms wrap around her. “Fuck Mo, that was so fucking hot,” she breathed out.

He took a few moments to respond – she knew he was trying to catch his breath too. “Never knew this was the possibility whenever I wore a suit,” he joked.

“Well now you know. Every suit you have makes me feel like this.”

“You’re telling me every game day suit I have makes you this hot and bothered?” he asked. Bee nodded her head. “We gotta do this more often.”

Bee couldn’t help but laugh. “Show up in the bedroom with a suit on more often and we just might.”

Morgan slipped out of her slowly, pulling her body to his side, hooking one of her legs over his torso as they lay in bed together, their clothes wrinkled and bunched up. “Do you think about how around this time last year, we were at dbar with Fred and Auston?”

Bee nodded her head. “A lot has happened since then, huh?”

“Mhm,” he mumbled, kissing her quickly. “What a year it’s been.”

“Still in bed together though,” she said cheekily, thinking about how, just maybe a week before that night at dbar, it was their first time together after Morgan had returned from Vancouver. “Some things never change.”

“Yeah, well, I plan to be in bed together all night,” Morgan said.

“Me too,” Bee’s eyes flashed. “Again. And again. I want to go all night.”

Morgan let out a deep chuckle. “Don’t worry baby. I got you,” he said, slipping his fingers into her pussy again.

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