#i knew i promised i would go on hiatus but consider the following: i lied | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

adie-dee · 2 years

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I posted 1,440 times in 2021

330 posts created (23%)

1110 posts reblogged (77%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 3.4 posts.

I added 132 tags in 2021

#lies in the lilies - 32 posts

#queue - 16 posts

#reading on hiatus - 15 posts

#boost! - 12 posts

#my writing - 12 posts

#bethany - 11 posts

#boost - 11 posts

#auspol - 8 posts

#nyssa - 8 posts

#tag game - 7 posts

Longest Tag: 91 characters

#but how i wish all these dummies would say what they mean instad of dancing around protocol

My Top Posts in 2021

I heard the bedroom door open just as I finished my muesli bar.

“Did you go through my stuff?” Blake asked from behind me.

“Nope.”

“So my license's just magically swapped wallets on their own?”

Whoops.

“So you do believe in magic!” I exclaimed, covering my embarrassment over such a stupid mistake.

His tone changed to a warning. “Bethany...”

“Alright, I did,” I admitted, “but you lost your right to privacy when you broke in here.” I turned to look at him to continue my defense, only for my breath to catch in my throat.

He seemed to consider what I’d said for a moment. “That’s fair.”

I was surprised I’d heard him at all. I could barely focus, too distracted by what I was seeing.

All he was wearing was a towel.

“Bethany?” The concern in his voice clashed with the smug, self assured grin on his face, and I let out a strangled noise in response.

His grin got bigger.

“Can you put some clothes on,” I said, trying to tear my eyes away. I hoped I wasn’t drooling - he had no right to look that good, even covered in bruises, and I fought down the desire to touch the ones on his chest.

He reached over the back of the couch, putting himself well within touching distance, and took my Red Bull off me. “I need to wash my jeans.”

“You need more than one pair of pants.”

Was it me or was it hot in here? I needed air. This was crazy.

I got off the couch to get the washing machine ready for him, needing some space between the two of us so that I could get my breath back. As I passed him his fingers caught my wrist, stopping me in my tracks.

I turned to face him, my mind and heart racing. This close I could smell my body wash on him, its honeyed scent even more delicious on him than it ever was on me. I wanted to eat him up.

“I’m glad you got away,” he told me, his voice low and soft, and the way he pushed a lock of hair back from my face made me feel warm and fuzzy inside.

“I’m sorry you got hurt.” I whispered in return.

He glanced down. “This is nothing, I promise.”

I followed his eyes. While the bruises on his torso were dark and nasty looking, the collection of scars crisscrossing his chest suggest he was telling the truth. The worst of them, thick and pink and around 10 centimetres long, marred his lower abdomen and I couldn’t help but touch it, tracing the way it sliced through the darkest part of the bruise.

Blake breathed in sharply.

“Did I hurt you?” I went to withdraw my hand, not wanting to make his pain worse, only he caught it and held it in place.

“Nah. It’s not as bad as it looks.” He winced as he said it.

“This better not be that male macho crap you tough guys do. Because—”

“Bethany.”

“Yes?”

“Shh.” His head tilted down towards mine, his face flushed and eyes dark, and I knew for sure what he wanted.

I licked my lips, my heart pounding so hard I was sure it was going to pop out of my chest. This was such a bad idea. Terrible. I really shouldn’t.

I did.

It was only a little kiss, gentle and sweet with more care than the one from before the Order attacked us, and when he pulled away I found myself wanting more.

Blake must have felt the same, as he pulled me closer, our bodies pressed together despite his injury. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmured, his lips brushing softly against my neck.

I definitely did not want him to stop.

39 notes • Posted 2021-01-21 09:03:29 GMT

Week 0: Introduction

Prompt: Write a scene or a monologue, where your character introduces themself to the reader, or to a random, friendly stranger.

@yourocsbackstory

I stared at the cup clasped in my hands, wishing that the water within could tell me a way to escape my current situation. Three months free of my parents' influence, three months of living my best life, and this one little hiccup was going to bring it all crashing down.

“I need your name,” the policeman at the desk stated, holding up my brand new fake ID. “Because this ain’t you.”

“It is,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’m Jessica Langam.”

He glanced at the ID again. “Jessica Langam is twenty-seven, while you barely look a day over eighteen.” He pressed his lips together, eyebrows raised, and stared at me until I looked away. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Didn’t your parents ever teach you not to lie to the police?”

There was no way I could answer that question in a way he wouldn’t be annoyed with, especially as what I’d actually been taught was that they were inept and corrupt. “Can I have something to eat?” I asked instead.

“Does this look like a restaurant?”

“Sorry,” I mumbled, returning my attention to the cup in my hands again.

The policeman huffed and shuffled the papers on the desk, a scowl forming on his face. “Let’s try this again. Your name, please. Then we’ll put you somewhere safe to sleep off your intoxication.”

“But I’m not even drunk!” I insisted, in a last ditch attempt to convince him to let me leave. “Can’t you just let me go? I won’t cause any trouble…”

The policeman’s scowl deepened. “You were wandering across the highway with no regard for traffic, necking a bottle of tequila. There’s no way we’re letting you leave until we’re sure you’re sober. And,” the way he stressed his words made me squirm, “you tell us your name.”

I really didn’t want to. I knew what would happen if I did: he would call my parents and then they would make me go home, and I hadn’t even had the opportunity to dye my hair a fun colour yet! I wasn’t ready to give up the fun I was having. I didn’t want the party to end.

But I also hadn’t known that being drunk and disorderly was something the police didn’t like - not that I thought I was drunk or disorderly, but apparently they did - and I was better off not upsetting them over my parents. But only barely.

I let out a sigh. “Bethany Norton.”

“ Norton,” he muttered under his breath, typing my name into the computer. “Beth-a-ny.” His hands froze on the keyboard and his eyes flicked to me, making me squirm once again. “You’re Henry and Eliza’s daughter?”

Oh no, he knew of them. “Yes.”

He typed something else into the computer, then reached for his phone.

“Please don’t call them!” It came out as a squeak, far more embarrassing than the calm request I’d intended to make.

“Do you have proof that’s who you are?”

Sullenly, I shook my head. This was exactly what I’d been afraid of. If only I’d known I needed to take my birth certificate with me when I ran away from home.

“Then I need to call them to confirm you are who you say you are. You can’t claim to be the daughter of the largest developer in the country and not expect me to check, now do you?” His condescending tone made my skin crawl, and I dropped my head into my hands as he dialed. It was the middle of the night. They would be really upset at the intrusion.

“Hello,” he said after a minute. “This is Senior Constable Fleming with the Sydney Police Department. Can I please speak with Mr or Mrs Norton?” he stopped, waiting for whichever of the staff he’d woken to speak. “Yes, I’ll hold.”

I cringed, unable to decide which of my parents would be better for him to speak with. Neither of them would be happy with this situation.

Suddenly I realised he was speaking again. “...have a woman here claiming to be Bethany Norton and--” He paused. “Yes. Brown hair, brown eyes, five-seven.” He paused again. “Drunk and disorderly.”

I stared down at the floor, wishing it would swallow me whole.

“The Rocks Police Station,” he said after a minute. “Policy states we can’t release her until after eight, so you’re welcome to collect her then.” He hung up the call, returning his attention to me. “Good news, Miss Norton, they’re going to come in the morning to confirm who you are. Till then, you can wait in one of our finest cells. No drunk tank for you.”

Dear gods, couldn’t my curse just kill me now? It would be way less painful than what the morning would bring.

41 notes • Posted 2021-03-02 02:03:33 GMT

“Ok, what about this tattoo,” I asked, poking him in the ribs where a large MMXVI in red, white, and blue was located and making him twitch. “It means something and I want to know what.”

“It’s only when the Bulldogs broke their 62 year losing streak and claimed their second grand final,” he replied, like I should have known that. “You don’t follow the footy?”

“No. Sport is dumb. And if I did pay attention to it I would obviously be following the rugby, not that aerial ping pong you guys down here refer to as football.”

He snorted at that.

“What about all these scars then?” I asked, moving on from the tattoo. All of this sounded so normal, and seemed so far away from the man who tried to kidnap me. In that moment I had thought of him as a monster. This stuffed-toy owning softie seemed anything but. “What’re they from?”

“Hazard of the job,” he replied with a shrug.

“Do you know how you got them all?”

He chewed on his lip for a moment before replying. “Most of them, I guess.”

I pointed at the jagged scarring down the outside of his left forearm. “How’d you get those ones?”

“You’re nosy, you know that right?”

“Yes. So are you.”

“Fair.” He glanced at his forearm, lips pursed. “Dove through a window trying to get away from a pissed off bloke with a shotgun.” I must have looked confused as he continued. “My boss wanted something he owned. He wasn’t interested in selling. So I took it.”

“And this one?” I tapped one on his eyebrow.

He began to turn red. “Eyebrow piercings were cool when I was in highschool, right? Took it out the moment I realised it was dumb.”

I laughed again at how embarrassed he sounded, my fingers finding the thick scar on his ribs as I did. It was fascinating; a long line of white slashing through the purple and black bruising, smooth to the touch and raised in a way that the others weren’t. “What about this one?”

His head dropped back onto the pillow. “That one… That was me attempting to stop a kidnapping, believe it or not.”

“And what happened?”

His eyes unfocused. “Got stabbed instead.”

44 notes • Posted 2021-02-22 10:48:31 GMT

Tender Tuesday 12th Jan

Open Ask!

What trope best summarizes your OTP’s origin story? Enemies to Lovers? Fake Dating? Mutual Pining? Or something else?

@tendertuesdayasks

46 notes • Posted 2021-01-12 08:26:52 GMT

Attempting to write smut.

…this may end badly.

53 notes • Posted 2021-08-13 07:55:08 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #am amused by my number 1 #but had to add a read more as 3 of them are long #all snippets though #so that’s cool

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pocket-luv101 · 3 years

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The Elysium Hotel // Chapter 1

Fandom: Servamp Ship: LawLicht (main), KuroMahi (side) Characters: Licht, Hyde, Kuro, Mahiru, Misono

Summary: Licht is asked to help investigate the mysterious deaths and disappearances connected to The Elysium Hotel. The hotel is run by the Servamps and Licht’s ex-boyfriend, Hyde. (Business AU)

A/N: This is a request from cynic-weaver (formally noishedraws)

(Ch.1) //

That morning, Licht received a call from his old friend, Mahiru. They were best friends in high school before he became a pianist. He needed to travel for his job and it was difficult to maintain a friendship with a thousand miles between them. They drifted apart and they hadn’t spoken in years. Licht thought of the others who promised to stay with him throughout his career and how they eventually left him.

Red eyes appeared in his mind. The broken promises they held hurt Licht far more than the others. He forced the demon from his mind and he told himself to forget him. He didn’t deserve his time when he lied to him. After their breakup, Licht threw himself into his music and he spent the next year touring Europe. He recently returned to Japan at his manager’s insistence and he hoped he wouldn’t see him again.

Kranz forced him to take a break from touring because he was worried that Licht would overwork himself. He understood his concern so he reluctantly agreed to take a hiatus. He hoped spending time with friends would be a good change from the hours of practise he was used to. Mahiru had also mentioned a potential job where he could play his piano part time.

He expected Mahiru to invite him to a café so they could talk and reconnect. He was confused when he asked him to meet him at the Alicein’s manor instead. Licht stepped out of his car and he looked up at the regal building. The manor was breathtaking and it reflected the family’s wealth and power. He wondered how Mahiru was connected to the family when he was an ordinary man.

Licht was greeted by a butler who appeared to be expecting him. They immediately ushered him into the building before he introduced himself. He felt suspicious of their secretive behaviour but he followed the butler down the hall. Mahiru was a fellow angel who would never lead him into a trap. He reasoned that the job Mahiru mentioned was connected to the Alicein family.

They stopped in front of a door and DoDo knocked politely. “Todoroki has arrived. Should I let him in?”

DoDo waited for an answer on the other side of the door before he turned the doorknob. Licht leaned forward slightly to peer into the room and he saw Mahiru sitting in the office. He didn’t recognize the man behind the desk and he guessed that it was someone from the Alicein family. Without bothering with politeness, Licht let himself into the room. He promised Kranz he would take a break from work so he didn’t plan to take the job Mahiru mentioned. He only intended to spend time with friends again.

“It’s great to see you after so long, Licht!” Mahiru jumped to his feet and he greeted Licht with a wide smile. He walked forward and he took his hand to pull himself into the office. He gestured for him to sit in the chair across from him. “I’m sorry for asking you to meet me on such short notice. When I heard that your tour in Europe was over, I knew this was the best time to call you.”

“You were vague in your phone call.” Licht sat down and he turned to the man sitting at the desk. He studied him to determine whether he was an angel or demon. While the man appeared to be Mahiru’s friend, he recalled how trusting he was and a demon could easily trick him.

Mahiru must’ve noticed his accessing glare when he quickly introduced him. “Licht, this is Misono Alicein. He’s my friend and he asked me to help him investigate a personal matter. I looked into his situation and it’s too much for me to do alone. I was hoping you could join the investigation, Licht. This must be a lot to ask when we haven’t spoken in years but you’re really the only one I can ask.”

“I still doubt this will work, Mahiru. This man is a pianist and he doesn’t have any experience conducting an investigation. From all the articles I’ve read, he’s too blunt to keep a secret as big as this. If anything leaks from the investigation and that family discovers our plan, my brother could be in danger.” Misono’s words made Licht’s brows furrow.

“Only a pianist? You must be a demon if you can’t recognize that I am an angel.” Licht snapped back at him and he stood to face Misono. His pride was hurt after he had dismissed him so easily. Before a fight could erupt in the room, Mahiru quickly placed himself between the two. He held one hand on Licht’s shoulder and he frowned at Misono.

“No one knows how important this investigation is more than me.” Mahiru said. “That is the reason I decided to call Licht for help. I didn’t keep in touch with him as much as I should’ve but I trust him. You can too, Misono. There is no one else who can help me. Let’s talk.”

Mahiru was relieved that they both silently nodded at him. He waited for them to both sit back before he opened a folder on the desk. Articles and photographs were collected and Licht read the headlines. Actress dies in car crash on the way to the airport. Politician mysteriously disappears. Anonymous donation given to the orphanage saves it from closing.

“I’ve been investigating The Elysium Hotel.” Mahiru told him and Licht had to question how the articles were related to the hotel. The articles didn’t mention it.

“The hotel that is run by the Servamps.” Licht glared at the photograph of the Servamp family standing in front of the grand hotel. Only celebrities and politicians were able to afford to stay there. As a musician, he had visited the hotel a few times. He thought it was a haven but he eventually realized that he was only fooled by its beautiful décor and promises of forever. “The name they chose for the hotel is a little ironic considering the place is filled with demons.”

“Have you heard about the rumours as well? That would save us the time of explaining everything.” Misono asked and Licht had to shake his head. He couldn’t tell him that the reason he disliked the hotel was far more personal. He told himself he would never return to the hotel yet he couldn’t help but be a little curious.

“There are rumours that the Servamps could be connected to several deaths of powerful people. They stayed at their hotel and then died shortly after they left. There isn’t a pattern in the way, some were car accidents and others were muggings. The police haven’t been able to connect the family to these crimes but it’s a little suspicious to me.” Mahiru had investigated many crimes throughout his career and he knew how easily powerful families like the Servamps could evade the law.

“My brother has an event planning business and he’s currently in negotiations with The Elysium Hotel for future business plans. If the rumours are true, they could implicate Mikuni even though he isn’t related to the hotel.” Misono had been protected by his brother since they were young. This time, he would help him. “I asked Mahiru to investigate these rumours. Once we have evidence, we can give it to the police before my brother’s business deal is complete.”

“I have been investigating undercover as a housekeeper. The hotel is too large for me alone and there are places I can’t go. With eight Servamps, it’s difficult for me to sneak around.” Mahiru slipped out a job posting from his folder and he held it out to Licht. “Can you help me, Licht? There is a position open for a musician to play live music in the hotel’s dining room. I can refer you for the job.”

Licht debated what he should do. While he thought it was his duty to bring justice to demons, a part of his heart told him the rumours couldn’t be true. His face betrayed him and Mahiru was able to read his emotions. He moved his chair in front of Licht and he smiled regretfully. “I’m sorry that I dropped this on you, Licht. It must be difficult since you dated Hyde.”

“I stayed at the hotel a few times but I’ve never spoken to that demon before.” Licht’s first instinct was to lie. He dated Hyde a year ago and they wanted to keep their relationship a secret. Between Licht being a famous pianist and Hyde’s family name, reporters would speculate on their private lives. Neither of them wanted their relationship to be picked apart in a magazine.

Mahiru only smiled in response and it was clear that he knew the truth. “It’s okay, Licht. You don’t have to join this investigation but, please, don’t discuss this with anyone. How about we have lunch as friends tomorrow? I do want to be friends like we were in high school.”

For a moment, Licht was silent. He didn’t answer his question and he asked one of his own instead. “How did you know that we dated?”

“I saw a photo of you two together on Hyde’s desk.”

“It’s so difficult to find someone faithful these days but no one needs to be hurt by this photo.” Hyde twirled the polaroid around his fingers before he let it fall onto the bed so the politician could see. The photograph was of the politician with a woman. He immediately tore the picture and Hyde only chuckled at him. “I have others. How would your wife react once she sees them? Sad? Angry? I don’t know her personally but, if I was her, I would be angry and burn your reputation to the ground.”

“What do you want? Money?” The man tossed money at his feet and Hyde wondered why that was always the first thing that politicians jumped to. He didn’t reach for his money and he picked up the torn photograph instead. After years, he thought he would be numb to corrupt politicians and immoral celebrities but they still made his stomach turn with disgust. He was only bored with their reactions and he doubted anything he tried would surprise him.

“A new bill will be introduced in the house to help the homeless. We want you to help pass it.” Hyde pushed himself off the bed to leave the luxury suit. “These soundproof rooms are good for affairs but better for private talks. It’s been fun. You’re staying here for another three days and we’ll be watching you. Be careful on your drive to the house and tip the staff well.”

“You won’t get away with this.” He spat and Hyde merely grinned back at him.

“I hope you actually try something entertaining. The others had been boring with their attempts.” Hyde turned away from him and he checked his phone. His brother texted him that it was safe for him to leave the room without someone seeing him. He ignored the politician’s angry screams behind him and he merely shut the door to silence him.

Hyde walked through the penthouse of The Elysium Hotel and he wanted a stiff drink after the conversation with the politician. He was often reminded of how people would use their power for selfish and immoral reasons. His family owned the hotel and they would search for blackmail on their corrupt guest. They would use the blackmail to force them to help good causes. The ones who committed crimes they couldn’t overlook never lived long after they left the hotel.

Each time he confronted a person with blackmail, Hyde became more jaded. He saw the worst people could do and he wondered if he would meet a true angel again. The only person he would describe as an angel had left him and he bit his lip against the memory. If he could go back to the night they broke up, would he change his mind? As much as he loved Licht, he needed to protect his family.

Hyde entered the elevator and he pressed the button for the first floor where the restaurant was located. He never liked the business side of running a hotel and he would work as a cook and bartender. The restaurant wasn’t open yet but he needed to prep the kitchen for the dinner rush. He didn’t expect to see anyone in the dining area— let alone to hear music.

His heart jumped in his chest when the song of a piano washed over him. Hyde stopped in the doorway and he stared at the angel playing the piano on stage. He knew Licht was the one playing even before he saw him. No one else could impact him so much with a song. He couldn’t take his eyes off Licht and the door slipped from his hand.

Gravity pulled the door close and the sound drew Licht’s attention. He stopped playing and he turned towards the entrance. Their gaze met and Hyde held his breath as he waited for Licht to speak first. He stood from the piano bench and he shut the cover over the keyboard. The soft click echoed throughout the silence and it pulled Hyde out of his daze. As Licht walked to the ledge of the stage, Hyde moved to the spot too. He held out his hand to him so he could help him down from the stage.

“Welcome back to Elysium, Angel Cakes.” He smiled up at him. Hyde wanted to appear confident but a hopeful gleam appeared in his red eyes. The same eyes that had promised him love but dragged his heart through hell. “What brought you back?”

“I’m not your Angel Cakes.” Licht didn’t take his hand. He placed his foot on Hyde’s chest and he kicked him back. He kept himself from falling to the ground by catching a table. Hyde looked back to Licht and he looked into his blue eyes. It became clear that he didn’t return due to their past relationship. He thought of the warm love in his gaze and that was now replaced by his hard glare.

Licht placed his hands in his pocket and he gave the fake explanation he practised with Mahiru. “My manager told me that I needed to take a break from my tours but I wanted to continue playing the piano. This is our compromise. I will play the piano for the hotel. But, know that this doesn’t change anything between us, Shit Rat.”

#servamp #lawlicht #greed pair #servamp hyde #licht jekylland todoroki #fanfiction

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lizzybeth1986 · 4 years

Note

I don't think you play TRR/TRH anymore but you should see what they did to Kiara in the newest chapter. It's so dumb and makes me so angry, especially considering the current climate of events. I've already seen people on Reddit be like "but we helped her overcome her trauma" (we didn't lol) and someone called her the c-word, very classy. Honestly PB's been low key racist in the past but all the stuff right now makes it high key...

(Apologies for the long post and not being able to place this under a cut)

I'm pretty glad I got these anons because truth be told I wasn't sure how many people - besides the few that I already knew were constantly speaking about Kiara's treatment in the books - would care enough to ask any questions about this. Most of the posts I saw expressed a disturbing eagerness to throw her under the bus, without exploring nuance or asking questions, and at this point I'm not very surprised.

I've always maintained that the treatment for Kiara is what happens when both the writers and the fandom are heartless, and these past few weeks have only been proof of that.

There are questions you could raise about this finale re: Kiara - questions almost no one seems to bother asking. I have three:

1. In this Coventus Nobilis...how is it that I see four Heads of House, and only one heir?

2. If Kiara - who is not head of house - is supposed to represent Castelserraillian instead of her father Hakim (who presides over that estate), why do I not see Madeleine? Why do I not see Penelope?

3. Why are we suddenly seeing Adeleide popping up out of practically nowhere to rep Krona/Fydelia, and Landon conveniently rep-ping Portavira?

Some of the answers to these questions lie in the questions themselves. Why else would Madeleine and Penelope not be present in this meeting - if it weren't to purposely distance them from this awful moment? After all, both of them have inbuilt subplots ready for the next book that would require interactions with the core group. How else do you think the writers could ensure we kept coddling them and pandering to them in Book 3, except by distancing them from this "betrayal"?

Why else would the narrative choose to pit Kiara - the lone woman of colour we'd been shitting on for most of this series - against Olivia - the white woman who has been given innumerable individual PoV scenes and her own mini-book (and whose reputation we had to help rebuild in said mini book whether we cared about her stupid duchy or not).

Why else would they force Kiara to alert us mere minutes before the meeting begin, if not to distract us with crumbs ("See? At least we wrote her as warning you. Of course we don't hate her!").

Why else would you have Olivia and Kiara pitted against each other like this - if not to show these two women side by side, on opposing ends - and compel us to believe that the white woman we spent 4.5 books propping up and pampering, is the most loyal one. When in fact we have done absolutely nothing to deserve any fucking loyalty from Kiara or her family to begin with! (Ezekiel and his white bride notwithstanding).

What we finally got as a result, was a narrative that (as @queen-of-effing-everything summed it up when I discussed this with her) in one full sweep "glorifies Olivia, shields Madeleine and Penelope and sets up Kiara". Very few of us even noticed. And even if we did notice, is there any guarantee that we would care??

Remember how I mentioned in my last ask that I wished we expanded the same energy that we did with Aurora, to speak up against the ill-treatment of other black characters? Kiara was undoubtedly one of those.

After this, we as a fandom will speak very easily now of her "betrayal". We will call her the b-word and the c-word. We will boast of how we will "take her down" along with Adeleide and Landon and Bartie Sr. We'll boast about how we "never liked her" to begin with, as if doing so required some...idk exemplary foresight. We will make memes about how Olivia was "the only bitch we ever respected". We will make huge, sweeping claims about how Kiara was our "friend" and how (as you've mentioned, anon) we "helped her overcome her trauma" (!!!!) and claim by that token that we were entitled to good treatment from her. I'm pretty sure when TRH3 finally comes out, her every word and action will be screenshot, put up on blogs, mocked and torn down just so we can write essays on how awful she is.

Yet I saw very little of this energy in Book 3, where the MC could first emotionally manipulate her into supporting the Unity Tour, and where we actively suspected her at a time when she was traumatized. At most there was some lukewarm acknowledgement of how she "deserves better", all while people still continued to write fanfic that positioned her as creepy and obsessed and villainous. Almost no one had a problem with Savannah not acknowledging Kiara's earlier support of her, and in fact I'd seen posts that clubbed her with the other ladies of the court who likely "treated Savannah badly". Her father Hakim was made to join the tour alongside her by default, without the expectations that Landon/Emmeline and Godfrey/Adeleide were allowed to have, and the fandom was mysteriously silent about Hakim being made to "bow to his knees" in a way the others did not have to. Very few people even bothered to notice or talk about how often Penelope was allowed to hold the MC's baby, or how Kiara was never really allowed to hold her even once. Which "friend" treats someone like this??

When I finally published this essay on the treatment meted out to Kiara especially in Book 3, what I got was a lot of neat, but ultimately hollow, little platitudes about how Kiara "deserved better" (How and in what way? Who knows, who cares). Out of those many many people who reblogged and responded, only a handful held the MC and Drake in particular (and Maxwell, who thought it appropriate to joke about "one suspect down") accountable for choosing to suspect and interrogate just her, and for showing ZERO remorse in forcing her to reopen those wounds. How is it that we can judge Kiara for this latest "betrayal", yet pretend that the MC and Drake had nothing to do with the pain THEY caused to her? How is it that this fandom was so fired up over her comments, yet would have such a weak, muted, carefully-generalized response to the screenshots where Drake was openly suspecting her and optionally minimizing her trauma?

Following that, why should we be entitled to good treatment from Kiara when we never really gave her even half as much?? Why is it so easy to divorce characters from their words and actions in Drake/MC/Maxwell's case, but so hard for a character like Kiara? (One may claim this is because Drake and Maxwell are potential co-protagonists, but the aforementioned essay already proves that you as a main character can get punished for not treating a mere side character with kindness).

Another thing that fascinates and repulses me even further is how the fandom has created myths around this one character, and how PB has constantly leaned into these "characteristics" even though the text itself tells an altogether different story:

1. Kiara is a snob. This is especially hilarious considering that she is established in Book 2 as being the only person who befriended Savannah before her departure and cared about what happened to her when she left. Never once in the books has she looked down on us for class-related issues, or outright mocked people for not knowing the languages she knew. In fact, she was the first person to acknowledge our skills if we showed any before Lythikos in Book 1. On the other hand, Penelope can be uppity and look down on us in Book 1 (there is even a dialogue option in Chapter 10 that leads to her calling us a "commoner wench") if we don't do well, and yet she's a cinnamon roll. Olivia can engage in snobbish , entitled behaviour without the fandom having a problem just because she's their favourite. Madeleine can look down on us and pretend for 3/4ths of the social season that we're not worth her time yet somehow Kiara is the snob. Okay. Okay. 😐

2. Kiara is "obsessed with" Drake and constantly comes on to him. This is said by the same group of people who saw Olivia fucking Nevrakis plant a WHOLE FUCKING SMACKER on Liam's mouth, and said..nothing. Kiara on the other hand, has admired Drake's abs once, mentioned she'd always liked Drake once, spoken normally to him about his sister once, flirted with him once (Paris tea party), and ordered a wine from him when he was bartending. In the next book she either looks at him wistfully or admires his suit. Yet somehow she's the creepy, annoying, stalkerish. Okay. Ooookay. 😑

(This one was particularly damaging, because post the TRR3 hiatus, all efforts from PB were focused on reversing Kiara's position as an alternative LI. This included "confirming" on livestream that her affections were one-sided, at a time when Olivia was finally allowed to have some romantic moments with a single Liam, pushing forward a buildup scene to Drake's eventual secret wedding that had him acting extremely rude and confrontational to Kiara mere minutes after suspecting her (while she was expressing joy at his upcoming wedding in his playthrough!!!), and involving a subplot where he openly and by default suspected her. Sure, he spends a minute to be nice to her and chat about trauma if the MC chooses. But that's like a drop of sewage water floating in an ocean of shit).

3. Kiara Pretended to Be Our Friend And Then Dropped Us: This is false. Kiara only ever promised to put in a good word for us to the rest of the court, no more, no less. And she fulfilled that promise. Otherwise she never pretended to be friends with us nor made friendly overtures either way. In fact if you're going to accuse anyone of duplicity, you have Penelope and Madeleine. Yet somehow Kiara is the dishonest one. Okay. Okay. 🙃

4. Kiara Was Insensitive To Penelope and Didn't Understand Her. I'm not sure how Kiara is supposed to magically understand something that her friend isn't telling her. Plus this argument deliberately leaves out the fact that she stood up for Penelope when people chose to be mean to her, and even explained to the MC that she employs "tough love" because she can't always be around to protect Penelope. It also leaves out how one-sided this friendship is and how Kiara is made to do most of the heavy work in this friendship. Meanwhile, at Kiara's most difficult time period, in Castelserraillian, Penelope says absolutely nothing as the MC forces Kiara to join the Unity Tour, while making bedroom eyes at Kiara's brother. In fact the only reason Kiara's brother even exists is to give Penelope a love interest. The Kiara-Penelope friendship practically revolves around Penelope. I have never really seen Penelope look out for Kiara or attempt to actually support her in any way, and Kiara was the one who got the knife wounds. Yet somehow I'm supposed to believe that Penelope's the better friend of the two. Suuuuure. 😡

And this steaming pile of crap doesn't just make its way into shitposts and short opinion posts. It creeps into fanfic and fandom opinions. It finds its way in the tags and in other social media. It eventually even finds its way into the books, even though nothing in the earlier narrative ever really supported these extremely stale takes.

Because PB didn't care for Kiara the way they cared for their white characters, they had no problem framing her narrative the way this fandom so desparately wanted it. Book 3 has the MC claim behind her back that Kiara is stuck-up and acts like knowing ten languages makes her better than everybody else, even though this is not backed up by the text, and in fact you will never see any acknowledgement of how Madeleine forced Kiara to make herself sound "exotic" in Book 2, or of how Madeleine and the MC (optionally) could downplay or question her skills unless they wanted to use her. Also, Penelope is never allowed to be talked about like that no matter what she's done. PB even had a scene (in the Hana playthrough) where they aggressively retconned the events of Madeleine's bachelorette party, where Kiara supposedly shouted at Penelope until the latter cried, and Madeleine was the one "having fun". Kiara was literally being thrown under the bus to make Madeleine look better. Madeleine. Imagine that. Madeleine.

Given how desparate the fandom was to nitpick and overdramatize everything Kiara said and did, is it any wonder that the team got away with the writing they gave her in Book 3? Considering that all the false arguments I stated above have made a resurgence in the past few weeks or days...is it any wonder that the only "support" this fandom is capable of re: Kiara, is lukewarm platitudes, cold takes and rank hypocrisy??

Yes, we can hold PB solely/largely accountable for the treatment meted out to Kiara now. They made these choices over and over, and continue to do so, while tossing us occasional crumbs of faux-sweet behaviour from the MC. And they did this in insidious ways, which were so hard to catch that even a Kiara stan like me had to observe multiple playthroughs just to unravel even half of what they'd done.

But let's not pretend a huge chunk of the fandom was just as responsible for this - with their unfounded opinions, their disgusting bias, their favouritism of white characters, their refusal to observe anything besides their favourites, and their godawful fanfiction where Kiara is a creep or evil or killing the virtuous main character. Out of the huge body of fanwork that I've seen for TRR that features Kiara - at least 90% of it features her stalking Drake, or harming the MC (particularly the Drake MC), or in cahoots with the villains, or generally being referred to as a creep (why Olivia, who kissed Liam without his consent in Book 1 and was entitled enough to be angry about him not returning her feelings in TRH1, never got this sort of writing - I fail to understand). There is a tremendous gap between the vitriol dumped on her when she does something the MC doesn't like, and the milquetoast response when harm is done to her. There have been times when I've had to comb through pages and pages of hate just to read even one positive post on Kiara in her own goddamn tag.

When the next book arrives, I know you folks will continue to gas up the white women in this book every chance you get, and mask your racist vitriol for characters like Kiara (and Hana, let's not forget the way y'all treat Hana) behind the same self-righteous judgements and the same tired, stale takes. I know that PB - despite what I will still believe is their hollow promises today - will write every single one of those stale takes into existence. All because it will be "justified", because Kiara is a "bad person" or "untrustworthy" or "fake". Whatever. Y'all can stick to Olivia The Black Hole and babysit Madeleine and Penelope, I guess. Kiara always deserved better than these writers and most of this fandom anyway.

#long post #kiara theron #the royal romance #the royal heir #trr kiara #lady kiara #i'm sorry kiki we didn't deserve you #i chose not to play trh2 and that's because this is EXACTLY what i felt would happen after they tossed us those crumbs in the book 1 finale

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destiny-smasher · 4 years

Audio

(Music by Samantha Pena, soudncloud user spena1989) Not gonna lie, I'm at a point with All Wounds where I'm like...oof, I wasn't able to envision everything I wanted to a few years back (by a long shot) but I'm kinda...wanting to be done with it. Even though I don't want to be done with it. 😅All Wounds was created from the get-go to be a visual novel - that's why the initial demo released so early into the project's life. My original intent was to go back and forth between fic and VN. But my original intent was also to end the story during the Portland road trip (Chapter 7). And while you could certainly make a case that the story is technically stronger up until that point, and becomes less potent and more dragged out for it's post-time-skip stuff, the latter stuff was also just...a lot more fun to write. And when I look back, if I had committed to the visual novel as intended, we'd not have gotten, like, ANY of that post-time-skip stuff, which includes Other Max being as fully fleshed out as she became. She'd have been stuck being a ghost in Max's head, pretty much. At this point, though, it's been so long, the fic I made INSTEAD of working on the visual novel is SO long, interest in the project peaked back while it was being written, working on this by myself is DAMN exhausting in terms of time spent, emotion and mentality drained, etc. Whenever I go back and listen to all of the amazing music made by people in the LiS it reinspires me to keep working on All Wounds but that's had diminishing returns as my life has changed drastically this past year. I love Max and Chloe. But, tbh, I just moved to a new country and got married, and I love my wife more than Max and Chloe? ^_^;; I’m not depressed and stuck in retail hell anymore, relying on staying up late working on a LiS fan project to channel that depression. I don't wanna completely shut the door on the visual novel and there's a chance I may still try to keep pushing to at least get to that road trip and maybe fudge it a bit. After all, a LOT of work has been done to the project that isn’t apparently or accessible in the public version; and I was able to add pretty well presented versions of Chapters 3 and 4 recently. So it’s entirely possible I could at least push it a little bit further if I end up inspired to do so. Either way, regardless, I still want to try some kind of epilogue, end-cap, etc, maybe even in VN form (Jenny and I had envisioned an epilogue where the characters play DnD). Max and Chloe mean the world to me, and exploring a version of events where both endings of the original game are expanded and tied together felt very cathartic. I'd rather that exist in SOME form (fic) than none at all; I think I'd still have done things this way a second time. But All Wounds inherently was a story about processing pain and grief and trauma and figuring out how to cope with it and heal and move on. And when I was at such low points, that made sense to write and steep myself in. But now? It just kinda doesn't. More than anything, though, is the fact that it's still a fan project - one that has had a lot of its interest evaporated for multiple reasons. The game’s ending is over four years old now; a prequel AND a sequel have both come out, further fragmenting the fandom; people have moved on. And it’s easy for outsiders to not realize how emotionally exhausting and sometimes painful All Wounds was, has been, and can still be for me to work on. Even things like pieces of music or art made by people who hurt me, who I hurt, that shit isn’t easy to work with. I could be spending all of this effort and energy on something less emotionally painful that isn't complete in ANY form AND is original. It feels bad to seriously consider dropping it when I'm sure there are still SOME people out there waiting for it, but I have other stories that I really need to work on. I can't keep myself locked in this cage forever when the work is such an unreasonable mountain to surpass. What I HAVE created is a fleshed out and substantial story and a chunk of it imagined in VN format which all kind of acts as a love letter to PriceField as well as an ultimately cathartic way to leave that original game to rest, I hope. Going forward I really think I'd like for Arcadian Rhythms to function as my one sole fanfic project I do inbetween original works, with one-shots or other bits (like the Butterfly Soup fic) just being other, far less intensive ways of working out those kinds of inspiration. It would probably do me better to also not talk about what I'm working on (aside from AR I suppose) in much depth or detail until I have something finished to really show for it. 😓 So if you want to see what I’ve been able to make of the visual novel so far, you can find that here.If you want to read the prose fic version of the story, which was finished quite some time ago (and which is where I want to update with an epilogue eventually), you can find that here. My newer fandom project, Arcadian Rhythms, which actually does feature Life is Strange characters, can be checked out here. You can follow our Patreon over here - we’ve been on hiatus as we deal with immigration but that should be all sorted soon. Regardless, any major updates to projects will be getting posted there once we’re back up and running. And you can follow me on Twitter over here; or just check back on my personal Tumblr here as I’m sure any meaningful thing I complete, fanfic or otherwise, will get posted here. So to clarify, current creative plans for the future on my own time: - original fiction projects (I’ve actually started work on an original VN for ex.) - Arcadian Rhythms for fun - some kind of epilogue for All Wounds - some kind of conclusion to Runners at the Corners (Butterfly Soup)

Interest in AW severely declined after the fic was done, no one else seems interested in working on it, either, it'd be SO MUCH work still. Sunken cost fallacy is a thing and tbh that’s part of why I even pushed myself to finish the update I did a few weeks ago. I am sorry to anyone who’s been waiting all this time for it - what I managed to produce is still a multi-hour visual novel, and I am still contemplating trying to at least get it to the end of the pre-time-skip. At the very least, there is still a complete story that can be read in fic form, the project just floated up and away from a reasonable grasp for one person, mainly because I just...wrote way more than I originally intended to. When I started work on this prokect, I also didn’t expect to fall in love, struggle to make ends meet, move across an ocean, and get married. And as important as All Wounds has been to me, I did at least finish telling the story I started, and the story it became, but I’ve learned all I can from it at this point and am so tired of trying to drag it out on my own. In the same way All Wounds sees Max and Chloe needing to accept their losses and let themselves move forward despite not everything going how they wanted, I guess I have to do the same with this project. Max and Chloe start a new future together, and it’s that time in my life where I probably should start doing the same. I need to start focusing on telling my own stories with my own characters more than I have been, as well as making more space for this new future with my new wife. And to All Wounds, the most difficult project I’ve worked on to date, as someone I once knew once sang, "I know, I know I made so many promises I know I left you such a mess; Gotta let go, gotta let go, and move on Been walking in a circle for too long"

And as another musician put it,

“Come and see the light of day out in the open It’s like I’m waking from a dream, oh Many days since I have seen the end unfolded Many times that I’ve looked back on all the times that we have had”

#lis allwounds

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emospritelet · 5 years

Text

Yes, I know it's been two years, I suck.

If anyone still remembers this fic, here's an update. I've written beyond this chapter, so I'm hoping it won't take too long to finish. Last time, Belle and Gold parted so she could go off to college and he could continue selling his body. We fast forward two years (I'd like to say that's the reason for the two year hiatus but that would be a lie. The truth is writer's block is a bitch and I'm easily distracted). Cover art by @evilsnowswan

[AO3 link]

Lying on her front on top of her bed, feet kicked up behind her, Belle turned the page of her book. She had been trying to lose herself in its words for the past hour, without much success: guilt gnawing at her over reading something frivolous that wasn’t on her list for class. It was early May, and finals were due to start the following week. She wasn’t too worried about them; she had put the study in, but she was tired after another semester of hard study and grabbing hours as a waitress whenever she could. She had managed to find a couple of part-time jobs in local diners, and had worked more hours than she had bargained for when she first arrived in Boston. College life had many wonderful positives, but the reality of her mounting student debt left her with an ever-present anxiety that was hard to shake. Hence the waitressing.

The sound of the apartment door opening made her look up, and she smiled as Ruby put her head around the bedroom door, dark ponytail swinging.

“Pizza tonight?” she asked, and Belle wrinkled her nose.

“Do you mind?” she asked. “I know we said we’d start eating more healthy stuff, but I’m exhausted.”

“Cheese, bread and prosciutto have to be three of the food groups,” said Ruby. “We can add in wine. That was fruit once, right?”

Belle giggled.

“Okay, I’m convinced. Call it in whenever you like.”

“I’ll do it now. Want to watch a movie later?”

“As long as it’s not something terrible, sure.”

“Come on, the terrible ones are fun!”

Ruby disappeared, and after a moment Belle heard her speaking on the phone, ordering the pizza. She soon returned, minus her jacket, hair free of its ponytail.

“So.” Ruby flopped onto the bed beside her and winked. “Tomorrow you’re officially in your twenties. Does Will have anything special planned?”

“I doubt it,” said Belle, turning the page of her book. “We broke up.”

Ruby blinked.

“What? Since when?”

“Since I decided to stop kidding myself. Namely last night.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Belle closed the book, tossing it aside and rolling onto her back.

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “He’s a nice guy, and I know you like him.”

“Screw that,” said Ruby fiercely. “You’re my best friend! Of course I’ll support you over him! What did he do?”

“Nothing,” said Belle wearily. “It’s not him, it’s me.”

“Is that what you told him?” Ruby winced. “Ouch.”

“I know, I know…” Belle ran her hands over her face. “It’s a terrible cliché, but it was never gonna work out, I was kidding myself. To be honest, he hasn’t gotten over his ex. I told him to follow her to Europe. I think he might.”

“Wow.” Ruby shook her head. “So why did you say it was you, not him?”

“Because…” Belle screwed up her nose. “I never really tried, you know?”

“Not much point if he’s still pining after Anastasia.”

“Yeah,” said Belle gloomily. “Still, I think maybe we made each other feel better for awhile. He made me laugh, at least.”

“Well, that’s important,” said Ruby sagely.

“And I could talk to him,” added Belle. “Not about anything that mattered, not like I can with you, but at least he listened. More than most guys do.”

Ruby sniffed. “Tell me about it.”

“But,” Belle went on, “I should still never have dated him. I knew it was hopeless. All we did was go and see stupid movies and talk about crap. Like that was ever gonna help him get over her!”

“Probably better than my way of dealing with a bad break-up,” offered Ruby, and Belle grinned.

“Come on, drunken one-nighters are a rite of passage for all college students.”

“You must have missed that memo.”

“Yeah.” Belle pulled a face. “Not really my scene.”

Ruby sighed, settling back against the blankets and eyeing Belle thoughtfully.

“You’ve never really gotten over that first guy, have you?” she said frankly, and Belle shifted uncomfortably.

“I didn’t say that.”

Ruby threw up a hand in exasperation.

“Belle, you can’t keep thinking about him!” she protested. “The guy was a prostitute, it’s not like you know him! However great he was, however attentive he was, you paid him to be that way! It was all an act! You do know that, right?”

“Of course,” lied Belle. “I wasn’t even thinking about him, anyway.”

“I’m not stupid, you know.”

“I wasn’t!” she insisted. “At least - at least not much.”

“Great sex does not make a great relationship,” Ruby reminded her sternly. “Look at me! A whirlwind romance with what I thought was the person of my dreams, and three months later I’m single and miserable and wondering what the hell I did wrong!”

Belle reached out to grasp her hand and squeeze.

“You’ll meet someone new,” she said. “We - we both will. Eventually.”

“I know,” sighed Ruby. “Doesn’t stop it sucking while we wait, huh?”

“Means we concentrate in class more, though.”

“Well, that’s true. Every cloud, and all that.”

“You ready for finals?”

“As I’ll ever be.” Ruby pulled a face. “I think it’ll be okay. I haven’t screwed up in the lab in weeks. I have to ace these finals, there’s no way I want to have to take summer classes.”

“Yeah, I really need to work as much as I can, get some of this debt paid down.”

“Your dad never did come up with a surprise wad of cash, huh?” said Ruby, looking aggrieved on her behalf.

“I never expected him to, not really,” sighed Belle. “It’s cool. I’ll have paid it off by the time I’m like forty-five or something.”

They shared a grin, and Ruby pushed up on her elbows, fixing Belle with a firm stare.

“Okay,” she said resolutely. “Since we’re young, free and single, I say we celebrate your birthday together. That means a prosecco brunch with all the sugar you can eat, followed by mani-pedis and a trip to Wonderland to get the one thing every girl needs.”

“What’s that?” asked Belle suspiciously, and Ruby grinned.

“A decent vibrator.”

Gold ran a hand through his newly-cropped hair and rolled his shoulders, the interior of Wonderland a little warm for the three-piece suit he was wearing. He wasn’t sure why he had decided to don the thing for his final visit to Blue Star, but it had seemed appropriate. He had said his goodbyes to his colleagues, shaken hands and kissed cheeks, all wrapped in the armour of blue silk and fine black wool. Having agreed to accompany Jefferson to Wonderland for the purchase of some tools of the trade, he was looking forward to leaving the place empty-handed for a change. Then he could go back to his hotel room, take off the suit for the last time, and turn the final page on that chapter of his life. He couldn’t say he would be sorry to do it, however reluctant Miss Blue was to lose him as an escort.

“What do you think of these? Pretty, huh?”

Jefferson handed him a set of butt plugs in iridescent colours, and Gold raised an eyebrow.

“Does it really matter what colour they are, considering where they’re going?”

“Wow,” remarked Jefferson. “You really are off the clock, huh? Come on, give me your expert opinion while you can.”

“I’d be worried about the coating coming off,” said Gold. “Stick with the silicone ones.”

“You’re probably right.”

“What about leather cuffs?” said Gold, pointing. “You said you needed some new ones.”

“Oh yeah, thanks for the reminder.”

Jefferson went off to browse, and Gold fidgeted, fingertips toying with his hair again. It was taking a little time to get used to. The short length made the silver in it more visible, and it was strange not to have it hanging around his face, but the haircut felt right, too. Another break with the past.

“Since you’re staying in Boston, why don’t you come to dinner tonight?” said Jefferson, as he looked through the selection of cuffs and straps. “Graham’s making tacos. They’re pretty good, if you add extra hot sauce. I can promise some decent tequila, too.”

“Sounds good.”

“Come over at seven, then. You can meet our new cat, she’s adorable.”

Gold smiled. He had thought about getting a cat himself, now that he would spending more time in Storybrooke. It would be nice to have some company in the evenings. Of a different sort than he was used to.

“I’ll be there.”

Jefferson soon found what he was looking for, and paid for his choices, dropping everything into one of the recognisable turquoise bags and winking at Alice, the assistant.

“You sure you don’t want anything?” he asked, as he and Gold headed for the exit.

“Why would I?”

“Well, you never know,” said Jefferson. “Long winter nights, up in Maine, all by yourself in that big old house... A guy could get lonely.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” said Gold, and raised an eyebrow. “What are you expecting me to get, a bloody sex doll?”

Jefferson snickered.

“No! I just meant you should be prepared, just in case someone special wanders into your life. You have great skills, or so it’s rumoured. Be a shame to let ‘em go stale.”

“I’ll have more than enough to keep me busy, I assure you.”

“You should start getting out a bit more,” said Jefferson. “You know what they say, all work and no play—”

“—means I can pay the bills and get to class on time,” finished Gold, and Jefferson rolled his eyes with a dramatic sigh.

“Well, if nothing else, when you eventually decide to let someone in enough to have an actual relationship, the sex will be awesome!”

“Thank you for that ringing endorsement,” said Gold dryly. “I have a feeling it takes more than a bag of tricks to make a relationship work. You’re lucky you and Graham know all one another’s secrets.”

“You need someone you can be honest with from the start,” said Jefferson. “Given how we met, that was never an issue.”

“Well, that’s unlikely to happen in my case, hmm?”

He grasped the door handle, pulling it open, and two young women almost fell in from the street in a mass of dark hair and jumbled colours. He took a step back, opening his mouth to apologise, and whatever he had planned to say died on his lips as the first woman swept back her hair and looked up.

“Belle!” he breathed.

She stared at him, her eyes widening, a blush rising in her cheeks. Dear God, she was beautiful! Perfection. Small and slender and clad in a pale blue jacket and what looked like a yellow dress over wedge-heeled sandals, a blue beret pulled down over her chestnut curls. Her lips were full and red, parted in shock, and he remembered with painful clarity exactly how she tasted. In every way.

“Alistair,” she whispered.

He swallowed hard, taking a step back as he noticed Ruby Lucas behind her.

“I - Miss French!” he managed. “Miss Lucas. How - how lovely to see you. How are you both?”

“Fine,” said Ruby cheerfully. “We’re just having a girly shopping day for Belle’s birthday, hence the trip to this place.”

Two years today. It’s two years today since we—

“Right,” he said. “Uh - happy birthday, Miss French.”

Belle didn’t answer, and was blushing, teeth worrying her lower lip. She had dropped her gaze, fingers dancing along the brown leather strap of the purse over her shoulder. He pulled his eyes away.

“Fancy seeing you here, Mr Gold,” added Ruby. “With your - friend.”

“Yes, well, we were just - I was just—” he floundered.

“Regular shopping trip,” said Jefferson, holding up the bag. “We spend a fortune in this place, but it’s worth every cent.”

Ruby smirked, and turned back to Gold, gesturing up and down.

“That’s a new look for you,” she observed. “Like the suit. Love the hair.”

“Thank you,” said Gold numbly.

“You girls should check out the White Rabbit range,” said Jefferson helpfully. “Hits the spot others can’t quite reach, if you take my meaning. Alice will steer you right, just tell her I sent you.”

Belle closed her eyes with an expression suggesting she was enduring physical pain, and Gold desperately tried to steer the conversation onto a more appropriate topic.

“I - ah - I had forgotten you were both headed to Boston,” he said. “Are you enjoying college?”

“I - yes,” said Belle, still blushing. “Yes, thank you.”

“We have a place together, a couple of blocks away,” put in Ruby. “Studying hard, you’ll be pleased to know.”

“Good.” His power of speech appeared to have deserted him. “That’s - I’m very glad to hear it. Take care, both of you.”

He stepped to the right, and Belle stepped in front of him. There was an awkward moment that seemed to last an eternity, in which they sidestepped to try to get past one another, murmuring apologies as they each stepped in the same direction. Eventually he managed to escape with the help of Jefferson’s firm hand steering him by the shoulder. He left the store without seeing anything, and without looking back, dimly aware that Jefferson was following him. His heart was racing, and he took a couple of deep breaths before he was able to focus on anything. The sun was very bright, and he fumbled for his sunglasses, almost sighing with relief as he slipped them on and cut the glare.

“Friends of yours?” asked Jefferson, and Gold sighed.

“Two ex-students from my high school,” he said tersely. “I think we could have done without the vibrator recommendations, to be honest.”

“Oops,” said Jefferson, not sounding remotely contrite.

“Indeed.” Gold ran a hand over his face. “Of all the places to bump into those two…”

“Don’t worry, they didn’t hear us talking about anything they shouldn’t.”

“Right,” said Gold vaguely.

“You okay?” asked Jefferson. “Sometimes it’s weird when your two lives collide, you know?”

“Oh, I’m well aware,” said Gold quietly. “I’m fine, really.”

“Good.”

Jefferson leaned in, kissed his cheek and stepped back, the turquoise bag crackling against his leg.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he announced, waving a finger. “Seven o’clock! Don’t forget!”

“I’ll be there,” promised Gold, and Jefferson grinned and turned on his toes, sauntering off down the street with the bag swinging from his hand.

Gold watched him go with half an eye, his mind full of Belle. She lived nearby, with Ruby. How had he not seen her before? Admittedly he wasn’t in Boston much these days, and would be there even less now that he had given up escorting. He sent up heartfelt thanks that he had never seen her while working his second job. God, she was as beautiful as ever. Beautiful and just as hopelessly out of reach. He blinked hard, shaking his head.

“Penny for ‘em.”

Another familiar voice made him jump, and he turned with a smile.

“Neal,” he said warmly, reaching out to pull his son into a hug. Neal hugged him back, grinning, a small backpack looped over one shoulder.

“What are you doing here, Dad?” he asked. “Are you staying in Boston?”

“Only a couple of nights,” said Gold. “I was doing some shopping and finishing up a few business matters, that’s all.”

“Yeah? Who was that?”

“What?” Gold panicked for a moment before realising who Neal meant. “Oh that - that was Jefferson. He’s - a friend.”

“Oh. Okay, cool.” Neal looked him over. “You look great! What’s with the suit?”

“Oh.” Gold looked down at himself. “Yes. Well. I - uh - thought I’d try a different look. I’m not sure it’s really me.”

“That’s a hell of a different look,” observed Neal. “And you cut your hair!”

“I - yes.” Gold ran his fingers through the short strands. “Don’t you like it?”

“It looks great,” said Neal. “Although I kinda miss the - floof.”

“Floof?” said Gold flatly. “Whatever that is, I’m almost certain I never had any.”

“Have it your way,” said Neal, with a grin. He put a hand on Gold’s shoulder. “You look good, but I gotta say you look tired. Emma always says you work too hard.”

“Well…” Gold shrugged awkwardly. “Not been getting much sleep.”

“Don’t tell me you’re still working yourself into the ground for us,” warned Neal. “You don’t need to, I’m serious! I’m making good money now. No killing yourself with school and tutoring, okay?”

Gold smiled.

“You can tell Emma that I’m no longer working two jobs,” he said. “Which means I’ll have a little more time on my hands to spend with you.”

“Good. In that case, why don’t you come over tonight?” he asked. “Emma was gonna do steak, but I’m sure we could use ‘em to rustle up something for the three of us.”

“Oh, I - I can’t, I already have an appointment,” said Gold hastily.

Neal glanced down the street.

“Okay,” he said lightly. “Tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow would be great,” said Gold, with a smile. “I’ll bring a bottle of something. What time?”

“Come over whenever you like, Emma’s in all day. I should get back around six.” Neal glanced at his watch. “Look, I’d better go, I only came out to grab some lunch. Couldn’t face the cafeteria mac and cheese. See you tomorrow?”

“See you then.”

Gold hugged him again before Neal hurried off down the street, and he glanced after him with a tiny smile on his face. It was going to be good to be able to spend more time with his family. It would all have been worth it to give them that good start in life, the start he had never had. Time to make the most of it, and put the past behind him.

As the time approached seven, he knocked firmly on the door of the apartment Jefferson and Graham shared. They had moved in together six months earlier, and he had been over a few times for dinner when he had been in town, but not since they had adopted a cat. Jefferson answered the door with his usual enthusiasm, taking the bottle of wine Gold held out and exclaiming over it before ushering him inside. The walls had been painted a warm coffee colour, the couch dark brown leather with a paisley throw and cushions in cream, brown and olive green. There was a savoury smell of garlic and spices coming from the kitchen, and Gold sniffed appreciatively.

“Graham’s in the kitchen,” said Jefferson. “He thinks ten minutes until dinner, so what do you say I open the wine?”

“Sounds good.” Gold looked around. “The place looks great.”

“Thanks. We nearly got into a pillow fight over the colour scheme.”

"Spare me the details," said Gold, with a grin. “So, where’s your cat?”

“Oh! Let me get her!”

Jefferson put down the bottle and hurried off, returning with a long-haired white cat with black and ginger patches on her head and back. He held her up high, as though presenting her for inspection by the cat gods.

“I invite you to humbly prostrate yourself at the feet of Her Royal Highness, Princess Petunia Puffball!” he announced. “Puff for short.”

Puff looked decidedly unimpressed at being picked up, and glowered at Gold as though it was his fault, so he elected not to pet her just yet. Jefferson kissed her head, which she endured with a look of disdain, and then put her down on the couch. Gold held out a hand, and she sniffed at his fingers cautiously before butting her head against them and beginning to purr. He scratched her ears, making her fluffy tail rise up and curl over.

“I knew she’d like you!” declared Jefferson, and clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on through to the kitchen. You want some of this wine?”

“Please.”

“Just give me a second.”

Gold gave Puff a final pet, and followed Jefferson through to the kitchen, where Graham was chopping tomatoes with his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He smiled, setting down his knife to give Gold a quick hug.

“Have a seat,” he said. “Dinner won’t be long, I’m just making the salad.”

Gold took a chair, glancing around the kitchen. The walls were painted a warm terracotta colour, turquoise shelves housing recipe books, brightly-coloured pottery and assorted houseplants.

“You’ve redecorated in here too,” he observed. “It’s nice.”

“We thought we’d try for something warm and cosy,” said Jefferson. “It’ll be nice when this place is two feet deep in snow.”

“Yes, it reminds me that I really need to repaint the porch at home.”

Jefferson set a glass of wine in front of him, and Gold nodded his thanks, taking a sip.

“So,” said Graham, returning to his chopping. “No more Blue Star. How does it feel?”

“Not sure it’s sunk in yet,” he admitted. “I’ll have to find something to keep myself busy with in the evenings.”

“Any thoughts?”

“Nothing specific.” Gold took another drink. “The house could use some work; I’ve been neglecting it for the past few years. So there’s that.”

“Maybe you’ll meet someone,” suggested Graham, and Gold pulled a face.

“Unless Storybrooke has new residents I’m unaware of, doubtful.”

“There’s always online dating.”

“No thanks,” said Gold, pulling a face. “I imagine that ‘I just stopped working as a prostitute’ is something of a conversation killer with the average woman.”

“How you chose to earn a living is no one’s business,” Jefferson reminded him.

“I know,” sighed Gold. “But it’s something fairly momentous and I wouldn’t feel right keeping it to myself.”

“No one’s saying you have to give your life story on a first date.”

“I know,” he said again. “But I could probably do with some time to myself, anyway.”

“Well, you know you’re always welcome here,” said Graham. “If you ever need to get away from small town life, just call.”

“Thanks,” said Gold. “But I think I’m actually looking forward to getting back into small town life, if only because the neighbours will stop speculating about where it is I go in the evenings. Plus it’ll be good to get a full eight hours of sleep every night, for a change.”

“Well, we support you,” announced Jefferson, raising his glass. “And someday we’ll drive up to that small town of yours and you can take us out and show us the sights!”

“That should take all of ten minutes,” said Gold wryly. “Nothing ever changes in Storybrooke.”

“To boredom, nosy neighbours and a regular sleep schedule!”

They clinked glasses, Gold grinning as he did it.

Belle locked the apartment door, grasping her case in one hand as she shoved the keys into her purse. Finals were over, and she could feel the stress of late-night studying starting to leave her body, her muscles aching a little, heavy and tired. She was pleased to be done with study, and to be heading home for the summer, but there was an underlying nervousness there, a low-level twinge in her gut that she was trying to ignore. It had nothing to do with the stress of exams, of that she was well aware.

She followed Ruby downstairs to where the car was parked in the May sunshine, throwing her case into the trunk and sliding into the passenger seat. Ruby grinned widely, large sunglasses hiding most of her face.

“Next stop, Storybrooke!” she sang, and pulled away into the steady stream of cars heading north.

They were quiet as they drove out of the city, Ruby concentrating on the road ahead, and singing snatches of a song on the radio. Before too long, they reached I-95, and Ruby settled back in her seat, fingers tapping on the wheel as she picked up the pace. She glanced across at Belle.

“Want to hit The Rabbit Hole tonight?” she asked. “Could be fun to see who’s still around. I bet it’s just as crappy as when we left, but there might be some new blood in there.”

“I should probably spend some time with Dad,” said Belle. “I’m guessing Granny will be expecting you to spend at least the first couple of nights at home.”

Ruby grumbled, but nodded reluctantly.

“Your dad gonna give you some work?” she asked, and Belle wrinkled her nose.

“What he can,” she said. “He said the shop wasn’t too busy right now, though. You think I could get some diner shifts?”

“Already cleared it with Granny,” said Ruby, glancing in her mirror before overtaking the car ahead. “We probably won’t be working the same shifts, but at least it’s something.”

“Every little helps,” agreed Belle. “Assuming we didn’t flunk the finals, of course.”

Ruby sputtered in derision.

“Come on girl, we worked our pert little asses off for those exams,” she declared. “Think positive! No class until September! We have three months to have some fun and earn some cash before we head back there. And I intend to make the most of it!”

“Okay.” Belle grinned as she sat back. “I’m in. Positive outlook, here I come.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Storybrooke seemed smaller.

It was the first time that she had really noticed since leaving, and Belle wasn’t sure whether it was a good thing or not. It showed that she had grown as a person; it would be ludicrous to expect two years of college not to have had some effect on her, after all. She didn’t want to lose sight of her home, though. She didn’t want to think she could never come back.

Ruby had dropped her at her dad’s place, along with her bags, and she had spent half an hour or so putting away her things in the battered old wardrobe in her room. The house was silent; her father would not be home until around six, which was around an hour away. She decided to make a start on dinner, and hunted through the fridge to find something to throw together. Moe French was never the best at eating vegetables, but she found mushrooms, onions and garlic, and so she decided on pasta.

She was reading a book, leaning against the kitchen counter and keeping one eye on the bubbling sauce, when the sound of the front door made her glance up. Moe beamed when she saw her through the open kitchen door, and she set down the book and ran to hug him.

“I thought you were coming tomorrow!” he complained, almost squeezing the breath from her.

“I told you it was today,” she chided. “More than once!”

“My brain’s turned to shit,” he grumbled. “How’d the exams go?”

“Ruby tells me we smashed it, so I’m following her lead,” said Belle, in a dry tone. “They were fine, I think. How are you?”

“Oh, okay love, okay. Shop’s - well, we’re getting by. The Nolans had another kid, so that meant a lot of orders. And Ashley Boyd got married, so that was a good week. Getting by, getting by.”

“Doesn’t sound as though you have much need of an extra pair of hands,” she observed, and he shook his head.

“A couple of hours a day, to make deliveries and help out with the flower orders, that’s it,” he said. “Sorry, love.”

“It’s cool, Granny gave me some hours at the diner.” Belle turned to the sauce, snatching up a spoon and stirring it. “You hungry?”

“I could eat a dead bear, I’m bloody starving.”

“Go wash up then, I’ll cook the pasta.”

They ate in comfortable silence, Moe praising the creamy mushroom sauce, and Belle watched in some amusement as he cleared his plate and looked hopefully around for more.

“That’s it,” she said, taking his plate and stacking it atop her own. “You want anything else?”

“Better not.” He patted his belly. “That was great, love.”

“What do you want to do tonight?” she asked, and he looked uneasy.

“Uh - you know I said I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow?”

“Don’t tell me,” said Belle. “Poker night.”

“I can cancel,” said Moe hastily, but she shook her head.

“Don’t bother. You go and have a good time. I can keep myself amused for one night.”

“You sure?”

Belle smiled.

“Absolutely.”

Gold finished cleaning up the kitchen, a glass of wine on the table behind him as he wiped down the counters. He rinsed the dishcloth, humming along to the music coming from the lounge. A soft, Baroque piece, soothing strings and harpsichord. Wiping his hands on the dish towel, he turned back for his wine, taking a sip as he wandered through to the lounge. It was strange not to have to plan for two or three nights out, and he was already enjoying the extra sleep. Though losing the extra money was less welcome. Worth it, he decided. Worth it to start getting your bloody self-respect back.

The first few days back in Storybrooke had left him feeling a little out of sorts, restless and jittery due to the extra time on his hands, pacing the kitchen over and over with a glass of wine in one hand as he tried to burn off excess energy. After the first weekend where he had felt as though he was going quietly mad, he had embarked on a thorough clean of the house, taking the opportunity to go through old paperwork and burn it, cleaning out the attic, and scrubbing the kitchen until it shone. He had planned to work on the garden next, although that needed little attention, as Anton came to tend it once a week. Perhaps a couple of days out at the cabin instead, reading and relaxing. At least he still had class to prepare for, so he wasn’t entirely without purpose, but he would need a serious distraction to get through the long summer break.

A hurried knock at the door made him frown, and for a moment he stood still, eerie fingertips caressing the nape of his neck and sending shivers down his spine. Goosebumps rippled over his skin, spreading down from his shoulders, and he told himself to get a bloody grip, surprised at his own nervousness. He wasn’t expecting anyone, and he wasn’t sure why an unexpected knock would make him anxious. Perhaps one of the neighbours needed help with something. Setting down his glass, he went to the door, the vague side outline of a diminutive figure visible through the rippled glass panels. Gold licked his lips, his breath held tight, a ball of iron in his chest. His heart was thudding, his pulse throbbing in his ears, and he reached out with a shaking hand, skin tingling as his fingers closed around the cool brass handle.

The evening sun was setting, the sky a pale lilac fading into peach tones at the horizon, thin knotted ropes of grey cloud outlined in coral. Belle stood on his porch, bouncing on her toes, chest heaving a little as though she had been running, dark curls glinting with reddish highlights from the sunset. Her pale skin was tinged apricot, warm and inviting, and she inhaled sharply, raising her chin.

“Hey,” she said abruptly.

He could feel emotion stir deep within him, a rising tide threatening to engulf him and sweep him away. Her eyes were shining, fixed on his, soft lips open and moist, and it was as though they had parted only yesterday. He smiled.

“Hey.”

#fic: neverland #escort!gold verse #rumbelle fic #my fic

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sad-goomy · 5 years

Text

31 days...31 chapters...This October, coming to Ao3, it’s

the BtVS!AU for the SuMo squad that no one asked for, including...

Lonashipping, Snowlilyshipping, and more romantic entanglements!

Found Family, All Myths Are True, and other tropes!

A song for every chapter!

The impending apocalypse!

And more!

Want a preview? Here’s the first chapter under the cut!

“Is this the Slayer?”

Moon blinks, head still foggy from sleep. She checks the caller ID and sure enough, someone’s calling her from Sun’s phone at four in the morning. Stifling a yawn, she sits up in bed and rubs her eyes, fighting the urge to simply hang up and go back to sleep. “Who’s asking?”

She hasn’t been called that title in a very long time, and it’s been a while since she’s received a vague threat over the phone. The mysterious voice on the other end of the line disregards her question, though, and instead says, “If you ever want to see your brother again, come to the shopping center on Melemele.”

She frowns, realizing that there’s an evil force holding her younger brother hostage, one who will probably wage a fight in which the balance of good and evil will be at stake.

“Keep him.”

And she hangs up, falling back on her bed with a loud groan. For a moment, she seriously considers going back to sleep, because she technically isn’t a Slayer anymore and she does have work in a few hours.

But she knows her mom would kill her if anything happened to Sun, and that would make Thanksgiving awkward, so she stands and walks to her dresser, muttering four-letter words under her breath. She opens the bottom drawer and takes out the metal box that she swears she’ll throw out tomorrow.

Opening it, Moon sighs as she looks at the vials of holy water and silver trinkets, eventually settling on taking out one of the wooden stakes.

"Damn it, Sun.”

----------

Somehow, this isn’t the worst situation Sun has found himself in.

Sure, he’s tied to a folding chair in Melemele’s only mall, watching his captor, a vampire, pace across the stage used for events. And yes, the phone call with his sister was alarmingly short and definitely didn’t seem to involve any promises of actually coming.

But it’s not as bad as the gym incident in high school.

The vampire stops his pacing, instead deciding to lean against the wall with crossed arms and stare blankly ahead with sharp green eyes. At least, Sun assumes he has two eyes; the choppy haircut covers nearly half his face. Besides the initial kidnapping and ensuing interrogation in which Sun was all too happy to drop the fact that his older sister is a Slayer, the vampire hasn’t spoken to him. He seems content to wait in silence, though as the minutes tick by he grows increasingly frustrated.

Sun looks around the room, also frustrated, but with just how boring this is all turning out to be – for a life-threatening situation, there’s a lot more waiting involved than he’s used to.

“So,” he drawls, catching the vampire’s attention. “Come here often?”

His captor arches an eyebrow. “Are you seriously trying to make small talk?”

“Yeah, why not?” He shrugs, looking around the room and confirming that there really is nothing for him to try and amuse himself with in this empty mall. “We’re gonna be here a while, what with travel time, and we haven’t really gotten a chance to chat.”

The vampire scowls, taking a few steps forward as he snaps, “Is your entire family this nonchalant?”

“On my mom’s side.” Sun smirks, adding, “Besides, this isn’t exactly my first hostage situation. Granted, taking me to the mall is an interesting move -”

“It isn’t?”

There’s genuine surprise, mixed with horrified fascination, in the vampire’s voice. Sun grins. “Well, it’s always a little embarrassing to share my number, but we’re up to thirteen now.” The blond scoffs at him, and Sun notices the curtains of the wings are moving a little. He sits back, continuing, “You never forget your first, though. Oh man, I was fourteen and so naïve - ‘course I’ve learned a thing or two since then.”

Looking absolutely unconvinced, the vampire drawls, “Such as?”

The curtains stop moving. Sun smirks, leaning forward with an impish spark in his eyes. The vampire seems to notice his shift in energy and stiffens, only able to pick up on the sound and scent a second too late.

“Such as ‘keep the bad guys distracted so your sister can ambush them.’”

And when the vampire turns, he’s greeted with a roundhouse kick to the face before being pinned to the stage by a woman half his size. Her silver eyes and black hair match her brother’s, but while he seemed thoroughly entertained by this situation, she looks nearly livid. Her freckles dance as she sneers.

“You rang?”

He struggles under her grip, realizing that the Slayer strength he’s heard about is no joke. With a quick jerk of his legs he manages to throw her off balance and turn the tables, though his pride is still bruised that she managed to get the jump on him (and in her pajamas, no less). “I’m not going to fight you,” he growls, managing to keep his hold on her.

Moon stops struggling for a moment, and he’s about to continue when she narrows her eyes. “That makes my job easier.”

One swift move of her leg later and he’s rolling off her, clutching at his groin as he bites back moans of pain.

Sun winces at the sight. “Is kicking vampires in the balls a new technique, or...?” His sister’s glare silences him, and he’s not looking forward to the lecture she’ll deliver once she unties him.

The vampire manages to open his eyes when he feels the point of a stake on his chest, right above where his no longer beating heart lies. She digs her knee into his solar plexus, keeping him pinned as she leans in. “Give me one good reason to not kill you.”

He holds her stare, his face growing calm. “I didn’t kill your brother.”

She barks a humorless laugh. “No, you just held him hostage, how thoughtful.”

“I knew you wouldn’t talk to me otherwise.”

They stare at each other, neither of them willing to flinch as Moon considers his answer. Deciding that he’s right, and that she’s not feeling particularly stab-y right now, she mutters, “Start talking.”

“Alola needs a Slayer.”

And just like that she’s feeling stab-y, raising the stake to strike as she growls, “That’s it -”

“Wait!”

Moon freezes, and the two turn their heads to look at Sun. He bites his lip, knowing he has to step delicately around the topic with his sister. “I mean, he has a point,” he explains slowly, looking between the two, “You seem to be the only one around here, and things have been getting weird.”

She hates that he’s right – back in Kanto, she’d known at least three other Slayers who could take care of threats while she was still training. Here in Alola, however, she has yet to encounter any, and though she’s sworn off her years as a Slayer, it seems that the dark magic threatening the region has only multiplied.

Sensing her hesitance, the vampire beneath her speaks up. “I have ample reason to suspect that Alola, and the world, is about to face its biggest threat from Lusamine Aether, and I can help.”

With a frown, Moon stands, keeping her stake pointed at him as he follows suit, arms raised in a show of surrender, though his gaze is merciless.

Sun raises a brow, lost in thought. “The environment lady? Isn’t her deal all about saving the whales?”

“She isn’t as she appears,” the vampire snaps, unable to roll his eyes because he needs to keep his focus on the stake-happy Slayer in front of him.

Moon’s eyes narrow in suspicion, her mind trying to connect dots that she only knows the vague outlines of. “And how do you know all this?”

“My name is Gladion – Gladion Aether.”

The similarities hit the siblings like a sixteen-wheeler; the genetics are so shockingly similar that they almost feel stupid for not realizing sooner, especially when Lusamine’s image is plastered everywhere after her organization became the savior of Alola’s natural resources.

Gladion continues, slow and methodical and all too aware of the weight of his words, “My own mother turned me, and she will stop at nothing to end the world.”

This is the moment when Moon realizes where she fits into this equation.

After a ten-year hiatus, she’s not only going to have to reclaim her title as Slayer in full, but the only things standing between the world and the apocalypse are her, her reckless brother, and a vampire she just kicked in the balls.

She rubs her temples with a sigh, feeling a headache coming on.

“I need so much coffee right now.”

----------

As vampires have no souls, they become pure id. Their emotions know no limits, and they have no conscience to temper their actions. Therefore, trusting a vampire, no matter how rational they may seem, is unadvisable and should be done in only the most extreme cases by experienced Slayers.

Doctor Gramtapen’s Grimoire, 6th Edition

----------

Two cups of coffee and a long explanation in her apartment’s living room later, and Moon can definitively say that the universe is doomed.

Sun, ever the optimist, sips from a mug and goes over his notes with a self-satisfied smirk. “So all we have to do is find your sister, she’ll tell us the details she found about your mom’s plans, and then we bust in there and stop her once and for all.” He looks up at the other two seated at Moon’s dining table, far too bright-eyed for six in the morning and post-kidnapping. “How hard can it be?”

His sister opens her mouth to answer with an adamant ‘very’, but Gladion beats her to it. “I have a lead on Lillie’s location, so the sooner we can track her, the better our odds are.”

Another line is added to Sun’s notes, scrawled hastily on some loose paper that Moon had lying around, with a pencil he found in a kitchen drawer. “Right, and we’ll probably need all the backup we can get, considering we’ve never dealt with a combination witch-vampire – oh, we should totally tell Hau and -”

“And I’m gonna stop you right there.” Moon sets down her mug, sliding it across the table as her gaze slides to the vampire that she’s allowed to enter her apartment against her better judgement. “Listen Blondie -”

“Gladion,” he corrects, the corner of his lips threatening to lift into a smirk.

If looks could kill and he weren’t undead, her glare would be sending him exactly six feet under. “Did I stutter?” She rolls her eyes, standing with her hands on the table as she mutters, “I’ve been out of the game for a decade, so I’m not stoked to kick off a come-back tour with taking down a Big Bad and preventing the apocalypse. Besides, I still don’t trust you.”

Gladion’s chair scrapes against the floor as he stands, and it’s frankly unfair that he has nearly a foot on her, glaring down at her like she’s a misbehaving child. “You don’t have a choice.”

Sun forces a laugh, standing slowly and sensing the rising temperature of the room. “Let’s slow down for a second.”

He places a hand on Moon’s arm, and she huffs but follows his lead to a few feet away (and she doesn’t bother pointing out that the vampire can definitely still hear them). Sun picks his words carefully, leaning in and whispering, “I’m not saying hold his hand and sing ‘Kumbaya,’ but there’s no way he’s lying about all of this.”

She raises a brow. “He’s a vampire – all they do is drink blood and lie.”

“He didn’t drink mine.” Moon nearly argues, but she stops short; it’s admittedly rather shocking that a vampire would have enough wits about them to not immediately drain a human, much less negotiate with a Slayer. Sun chances a glance back at Gladion, who’s decided to study the magnets on Moon’s fridge with a frown. “Besides, if even half of what he says is true, we need his help to stop it.”

But she certainly doesn’t have to be happy about it. She scrutinizes her brother for a moment longer, but he holds her gaze, just as stubborn as she is. He’s right, and they both know it, and she figures this is probably the universe’s retribution for her shirking Slayer duty.

With a groan, she turns and takes a few steps towards Gladion, who leans against the fridge and watches her. “I’m going to be late to work so I’m only going to say this once: if you want me to help you, then you have to earn my trust.”

“And how do you propose I do that?”

She points to the couch with a smirk. “Congratulations, you live here now.” His eyes ignite and he opens his mouth, but she cuts him off with her own annoyance, “It’s the best way I can keep an eye on you and see if you’re really on the straight and narrow. If not, I have a stake with your name on it.”

Turning on her heel, she misses the absolute indignation that seeps into Gladion’s face. Just when her hand is on the doorknob to her bedroom, he scoffs. “I’m not going to be babysat!”

She rolls her eyes as she opens the door, turning to face him with a scowl. “You don’t have a choice, Gladbag.”

“Gladion.”

“Did I fucking stutter.”

And she slams the door behind her, effectively ending the conversation and leaving Gladion to glower by the fridge, hands clenched into fists and mind devising seventeen different ways to end the Slayer.

Sun coughs, offering a nervous smile that withers under the vampire’s glare.

“I think she likes you.”

----------

Her vision is going dark around the edges, a mess of fuzzy circles dancing in the shadows as she coughs. It feels like her lung might come up. She peels herself off the concrete, and a gravelly voice laughs at her shaking body.

“Like I said, lil Slayer.” She struggles to keep herself up on her elbows, sneakers coming into view as a figure crouches, bloodshot eyes and a crazed smile too close to her.

“You came to the wrong neighborhood.”

Moon.

“Moon?”

She flinches back in the chair she’s settled into in the pharmacy’s back room. A dull thud sounds as her head hits the wall, and she remembers to pretend it hurts, rubbing it as she glances up at her coworker.

Ipo looks down at her with an understanding smile; however, there must be something troubling in Moon’s face, because the other pharmacist’s brows furrow and she asks, “Bad dream?”

“Something like that...” It’s been a few years since she’s had a prophetic vision, but the feeling of dread lingering in her stomach confirms it. She does her best to shake it off, to not think about how at some point in the future, she’s going to end up bloody and bruised in a place she doesn’t recognize with someone taunting her.

Moon clears her throat, giving Ipo a sheepish smile as she stands. “Sorry, I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

Ipo tilts her head, still concerned as they walk out of the back room and back towards the counter, their break officially over. “Why’s that?”

My brother got kidnapped by a vampire who revealed that his mom is planning to bring about the apocalypse.

“I got a roommate.” Moon takes her place at the counter, stretching out her back and hearing a satisfying pop.

“Oh wow,” Ipo mumbles conversationally, leaning her elbows against the counter as she looks out at the empty pharmacy. “What’re they like?”

Bloodthirsty and dangerous.

Mysterious and morally ambiguous.

Just a straight up asshole.

But then this is all based on a strange first impression, and Sun’s insistence that there’s something different about the vampire scratches at the back of her mind. With a sigh, Moon settles on the one objective fact that she can tell Ipo without revealing the existence of magic or sounding judgmental.

“Blond.”

Close enough.

#lonashipping #snowlilyshipping #pokemon sumo #btvs!au #pokemon fanfic #text #garlic cloves fic #im excited and nervous and oh man #still technically writing this ahhh #it's a tight schedule to finish but i should make it #a chapter a day - why did i do this to myself

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highroadsteve · 5 years

Text

Broken Heart

pairing: tom holland x reader

warnings: language, heartbreak

a/n: took a hiatus from writing but im kind of back! this is totally inspired by the song rewrite the stars from the greatest showman. enjoy!

masterlist in bio*

...

You used to take pride in the fact that you’ve never had your heart broken by a man. You put up a front in which you claimed to be a confident and independent woman, you didn’t need a man in your life. If things ended, then things ended and there should be appreciation for what was. There was no way you would let yourself be hurt by a man.

Then came Tom Holland and he came into your life unexpectedly. He had broken your heart, but he didn’t do it on purpose. You broke your own.

“Ever since the moment you met, you had a connection. The chemistry between you two was obvious, and I know you both had a thing for each other.” Your friends would say, their heart in the right place but you laughed.

“There was absolutely nothing between us. We were just friends, I promise. I would have gotten him, if I did like him.” You responded, and they believed you.

But you knew that was a whole ass lie.

You had fallen in love with him. He was one of the best experiences you have ever had. Your nights were no longer nights, they were just extended days, and he made you feel like you deserved all the stars.

His smile was the first thing you would see everyday, as your phone screen was a picture of him. As silly as it was to have your best friend as your wallpaper, you were always happy to see that smile. He was your favorite part of your day, and you started to fall in love quickly.

“Y/N, smile!” You turned around at the sound of your name, and you quickly covered your face as you heard the word that followed. With a whine, you tried to grab Tom’s phone, who only stretched out his arm to keep you out of reach. His laugh was contagious, and it formed a big smile on your face as you tried to delete the embarrassing picture he took.

“Dude, seriously I can already tell I look terrible.” You said with a groan, giving up and laying on top of Tom. With his phone on his stretched hand, he tapped the square at the bottom left corner to see the picture he had taken, and proceeded to laugh at how funny you looked.

“O-oh my God!” Tom scrunched up his face as he continued to laugh harder as he finally decided to show you the picture. Your mouth opened with a gasp, seeing how awkward you looked in the picture and flushing with embarrassment.

“Ew, Tom, I hate you!” You said with a laugh, trying to grab his phone, but he kept it out of your reach. He was still laughing, his laughs getting softer as he took in breaths at the same time.

“It was funny, come on.”

“No, it’s embarrassing!” You claimed, taking out your own phone and lifting it up to take a picture of him.

“Smile!” You said softly, and he looked up with a big smile.

The days went on, and you were only digging yourself deeper into a hole with your increasing crush on him. You were becoming scared, which is a feeling you never thought you would feel when you liked someone. Usually, you were upfront with your crush and you would initiate the relationship once you wanted it, but this time it was so different.

Unlike other guys, Tom was famous. And not even like locally famous, he was known all over the world. With his recent portrayal of Spiderman in the MCU, he had become a character loved by people of all ages.

And you had to admit, it fucking terrified you.

The idea of dating someone constantly in the spotlight that he might as well be the spotlight, was scary. Hell, you were only known as one of Tom’s distant friends and you were still getting attention.

Being in the spotlight is not something you want, but you knew that it came with dating Tom.

So you stayed away.

You tried to distance yourself from Tom, you really did. It was easy at first, considering the fact that he wasn’t staying at your apartment because he had to film somewhere else. But, once the filming had moved here, it was difficult because him and Harrison were in the room next door.

They would stay for weeks before having to go to another city. That was just the perks of being a movie star. Harrison was his assistant, so of course he had to go everywhere Tom went.

When he was gone, you rarely texted him because you wanted to stop thinking about him. The guys you found at the bar were great distractions, and so was the alcohol, but you knew deep down it wasn’t solving the problem.

You had to get rid of the crush on him. You just had to. You knew you couldn’t date him, there’s no way that his lifestyle could ever slow down for you. It was just not the type you wanted to live. All those red carpets, traveling, the cameras constantly being pointed at you. It all seems to stressful, you can barely take one good selfie every three months. Having to deal with the constant pressure of being seen is frustrating, you don’t understand how Tom, or anyone for that matter, could handle it.

Tom H: Hey love! We’re going to film in your city for a few weeks. Can me and Haz stay at your place for the time? x

Tom didn’t even need to ask. Your answer had always been yes, but considering the circumstances, you said no. Well, almost. You made up an excuse.

Y/N: Sorry but can’t. Won’t be home. Visiting home for a while. Have fun filming x

You lied. You completely lied and now you felt guilty. But you knew if he stayed, you would never get rid of the crush.

Weeks passed and you hadn’t spoken to Tom since he had asked to stay at your place. He was the last to text, so you muted his number and you stopped looking him up on social media. Your heart was breaking by the second, but you knew it was for the best. He doesn’t want you, and you don’t need him to. It’s better if you were casual friends. And casual friends only text each other when they need to.

When he came over, you stopped the flirting immediately. You no longer cuddled with him on the couch, you kept your distance and it seemed like he was starting to see it.

Tom would ask you to come watch a movie, but you always refused, said you had to do some work. He slumped down on the couch with a sigh, turning the television’s volume down so he won’t bother you. He was starting to think that you didn’t want to be friends anymore. He missed you, he missed you so goddamn much and you were only a few doors away.

He was in love with you. Just as long as you have, and he wants to be with you but he’s also scared. Scared of what the outside world might do. Sure, behind closed doors, you were the perfect couple. It was just two people in love and expressing that love. But outside it’s different, it’s so so different.

Outside there is hatred. He knew that, he experiences it everyday and he would hate for you to experience it as much as he did. So he tried to keep you out of the spotlight, as much as he could but obviously there was no way.

You started to distance yourself, and it was hurting both of you so much more than you thought.

A knock was heard at your door. Tom poked his head into your room when you told him to come him. With a soft smile, he stepped in slightly, his posture awkward and tense. You raised your eyebrow.

“You okay, Tom?” You asked him with a smile and he just scratched the back of his neck and stuttered.

“I don’t really know how to say this...but are you avoiding me?” He answered you and you only chuckled.

“I wouldn’t be talking to you if I was, dummy.”

“You know what I mean, Y/N.” Tom said your name, which was common for him to say but felt tense with the tone he was using. His lips were pressed into a thin line, and there was almost no emotion on his face. You sighed, sitting up higher on your headboard and placing your laptop next to you.

“I’m trying to distance myself from you.” You admitted, rubbing your arm nervously.

“Why?” He asked, walking and sitting at your feet on your bed. You looked down at the corner of the room, sort of embarrassed at the fact that he noticed.

“You wouldn’t get it, Tom.”

“B-but I want to! I’ll try.” He spoke up, his genuine voice sending shivers down your arms. You felt bad, you really did, and you were getting nervous.

“I...I like you Tom. As in, I have a crush on you. And I don’t want to have a crush on you anymore, so I’m trying to stay away, just until I get over it.” You looked at him straight in the eye (or more specifically in between his eyes, as you couldn’t hold eye contact for your life).

He stayed quiet for a moment, not knowing how to respond to something like that. It makes him so happy to know that you like him... but you also don’t want to like him. What is he supposed to say?

After a moment of silence, he spoke up, “I’m in love with you”.

You almost choked on your spit, not expecting those words to come out of his mouth. You were expecting an ‘okay’ or just even a sigh.

“I know, it’s weird. But I love you. You’re my best friend, you’re seriously my everything, angel. And...and I know that you don’t really do relationships, but fuck. I am in love with you.” Now it was your turn to stay silent. A million thoughts ran through your head, but it seemed like there was only one that dominated.

“I can’t do this, Tom,” you began to cry, “You have such a bright future ahead of you, filled with spotlights and cameras and people screaming your name. But that’s not the life I want to live. I love you too, Tommy. But I don’t want to be yours.”

The tears were flowing freely, and you hated it. You hated crying, especially in front of others. It made you feel week, vulnerable, and you hated it.

“I’m...I’m sorry, my love.” He whispered, and you nodded. Tom stood up and kissed your forehead before leaving the room.

Getting your heart broken by a man was not something you had experienced, as your own pride gets in the way and you forget about all the men you’ve loved. But Tom was different. You had a different kind of love for him, some call it genuine.

Tom was different, which is why this was a different kind of heartbreak. It was worse, because you couldn’t be together.

...

This is not the end. Part two coming.

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #spiderman #peter parker #spiderman x reader #peter parker x reader #y/n #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #tom #holland #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagines #spiderman imagines #peter parker imagines #peter parker fanfic #spiderman far from home #into the spiderverse #avengers endgame

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snicketstrange · 5 years

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What is the explanation for a secret letter in TSS?

This is part 8 of the Strange Interpretation of Jean Lúcio from Brazil

To understand this text, it is necessary to read my previous texts.

Today we are going to talk about my interpretation of the secret letter found in TSS. The letter is as follows:

"My dear sister, I am taking a great risk in hiding a letter to you inside one of my books, but I am certain that even the most melancholy and well-read people in the world have found my account of the lives of the three Baudelaire children even more wretched than I had promised, and this book will stay on the shelves of libraries, utterly ignored, waiting for you to open it and find this message. As an additional precaution, I placed a warning that the rest of this chapter contains a description of the Baudelaires' miserable journey up the Vertical Flame Diversion, so anyone who has the courage to read such a description is probably brave enough to read my letter to you I have at last learned the whereabouts of the evidence that will exonerate me, a phrase which here means "prove to the authorities that it is Count Olaf, and not me, who has started so many fires." Your suggestion, so many years ago at that picnic, that a tea set would be a handy place to hide anything important and small in the event of a dark day, has turned out to be correct. (Incidentally, your other picnic suggestion, that a simple combination of sliced mango, black beans, and chopped celery mixed with black pepper, lime juice, and olive oil would make a delicious chilled salad also turned out to be correct.) I am on my way now to the Valley of Four Drafts, in order to continue my research on the Baudelaire case. I hope also to retrieve the aforementioned evidence at last. It is too late to restore my happiness, of course, but at least I can clear my name. From the site of V.F.D. I will head straight for the Hotel Denouement. I should arrive by - well, it would not be wise to type the date, but it should be easy for you to remember Beatrice 's birthday. Meet me at the hotel. Try to get us a room without ugly curtains. With all due respect, Lemony Snicket P.S. If you substitute the chopped celery with hearts of palm, it is equally delicious. "

Because of this letter many fans believe that Daniel Handler made chronological mistakes in ASOUE. The reason they think so is evident: in this letter Lemony Snicket states that he will meet with his sister at the Denouement Hotel. Lemony said the hotel was fully operational. However, in TRR and TAA, Lemony implies that several years have passed between the major events reported in the books, and the publication of the books themselves. However, the main events reported in the books happen in full in a maximum of 2 years. (To confirm this, just remember which books Klaus and Violet celebrated their birthdays.) The first of these two years is recorded from chapter 1 of TBB to chapter 13 of TE. At the end of chapter 13, the death of Kit Snicket is recorded. At the end of TPP, there is a fire that destroyed the Hotel Denouement. So how could this letter, which was written at the time of the publication of the book TSS, be considered with the recipient about the hotel Denouement still in full operation? And how could this letter be destined to Lemony's sister, since she died in a maximum of one year after the fire at the Baudelaire mansion?

In order to try to justify this apparent contradiction, some fans created the following theory: Lemony wrote ASOUE during the main events recorded on them, hence Lemony sent these originals to Kit. From there Kit sent Lemony back, Lemony revised the books and then, many years later, books have been published in their current format. Dante explained this theory to me recently. I will call this theory "The theory of writing ASOUE books shortly after the main events and publication in the final format many years after these events".

Frankly speaking, I do not like this theory at all, and I do not believe it. I respect it, of course, as a possibility. But I do not agree with the theory. Nor do I agree with the statement that Daniel Handler made chronological errors. If you have accompanied all my Threads, you know that I created the theory of the Great Hiatus, which is very logical and coherent from my point of view. The theory of the Great Hiatus results in the assurance that many years have passed between the events recorded in the books TMM until TE, and the publication of these books in Lemony's universe.

On the other hand, "The theory of writing ASOUE books shortly after the main events and publication in the final format many years after these events" leaves several points loose. And I'm going to list some of the loose spots here.

1 - In writing this letter, Lemony does not know the location of his "sister".

There is only one reason to hide a letter in a book that will be published in various parts of the world. Lemony explains: "this book will stay on the shelves of libraries, utterly ignored, waiting for you to open it and find this message." If Lemony knew where her "sister" is, he could send her a message by letter, using some code. But instead, Lemony expected his "sister" wherever she was, to buy a copy of the book and then get the message.

2 - In the secret letter printed in TSS, Lemony demonstrates that it intends that the letter be printed in what would become the final version of the book TSS.

Note these excerpts: "this book will stay on the shelves of libraries,"

"I am certain that even the most melancholy and well-read people in the world have found my account of the lives of the three Baudelaire children even more wretched than I had promised"

These excerpts show that Lemony was convinced that this book would be sent to various parts of the world. If he really did draft the book early, this letter was not sent in advance draft, but the letter was sent in the final version, where readers around the world would have access to that letter. Thus, the letter could only be referring to relevant events many years after the major events recorded in the book. So this letter does not help prove that Lemony wrote the books, sent them to Kit, and these were returned to him by Kit and then revised by Lemony to be published in the final version years later.

I am not saying that I do not believe that Lemony began to write what would one day become ASOUE a few months after the main events recorded in TBB. Or even some time before the events recorded in TBB. According to The UA pag. 177 and 178, before the Heimlich Hospital was destroyed, Lemony was already trying to write what would one day become the introduction of TBB. However, his plan was to write a story about his own life, the plan was not to write about Beatrice's children.

"" The writing theory of ASOUE books shortly after the main events and publication in the final format many years after these events "does not explain how Lemony knew the content of the particular dialogues of the Baudelaire siblings.

This theory depends on another theory that does not make sense to me either. I found out about this theory by reading some posts here. The theory says that Lemony was following the Baudelaire siblings, and listening to what they were talking about, which is why Lemony knows the contents of the dialogues. But that does not make sense.

Some places where the Baudelaire siblings only talked to each other were completely isolated, such as an elevator shaft, a caravan about to fall off a cliff, a trunk of a car, a jail cell or a submarine at the bottom of the ocean. Also, in TBB the rare edition, Lemony says that access to Count Olaf's house was hindered, so Lemony did not enter Olaf's house to be able to write TBB. Thus the dialogues that took place inside Olaf's house, as recorded in TBB, could not be heard by Lemony if he were following the Baudelaires siblings.

Another theory states that Lemony invented most of the dialogues. This theory I heard in my own country, which in case you do not know, is Brazil. The people who created this theory agree with me in stating that Lemony is an unreliable narrator. But I disagree that Lemony invented the dialogues because he assured himself in TUA that he would make an accurate record of what happened to the Baudelaire siblings.

(Personal note: It is interesting that these people believe that Lemony may have invented part of the main story, but they severely criticized me for believing that Lemony lied about Beatrice's death. They called me crazy several times. I do not force anyone to agree with me, but my theory is well grounded and deserves respect as any other well-founded theory. I promised myself that one day ASOUE fans from around the world would hear about my theory, and I thank J. and her friend F., N. his twin brother E. from Brazil and D. F. from 667 Dark Avennue very much for giving me support. And I thank SS for being my example, and for now he is evaluating my work.)

The more I think about it, the more I'm sure that Lemony read the book on the island, where the Baudelaire siblings recorded their dialogues, and the events they lived through. But for this to be so, Lemony must have written and published all the books of ASOUE after the Baudelaires siblings had left the island. If you accept this as fact, you will allow yourself to think of other possibilities to explain the secret letter in TSS. That's what I did. And I found the following possibilities.

1 - The true recipient of the letter is not Kit. Because Kit was already dead when the letter was written.

2 - Lemony can call other sister people besides Kit.

See the dictionary definition:

www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/sister

"Sister: a girl or woman regarded as a comrade."

A similar definition was used in THH chapter 3:

"I'm confused," Klaus said. "I always thought that brothers and sisters are people who share the same parents." "Not always, brother," the bearded man said. "Sometimes brothers and sisters are just people who are united for a common cause."

3 - Hotel Denouement was rebuilt during the many years that have passed since the first destruction of the Denouement hotel until the publication of the book TSS. And between the publication of TGG and TPP the Hotel Denouement was destroyed again.

If you have understood the Great Hiatus Theory, you must have noticed something important about how the ASOUE books were published in Lemony's universe. The natural consequence of the Great Hiatus theory is the need to accept that most of the ASOUE books were not published in a short time between one book and another in Lemony's universe.

ASOUE contains two stories that do not happen simultaneously. When Lemony Snicket narrated the main story, he told events of the past. But when Lemony recounted the events of his own life during the publication of the books, including how his research was conducted, Lemony was talking about events that occurred over many, many years.

According to Lemony, he devoted most of his life to the investigation of what happened to the Baudelaires.

Note the excerpt below TSS 10 Chapter 13:

"Even for an author like myself, who has devoted his entire life to investigating the mysteries that surround the Baudelaire case, there is still much I have been unable to discover."

Lemony spent several months of his life only to discover or confirm some details of the history of the Baudelaires.

In THH Chapter 4, Lemony states that he spent more than 9 months just to be reasonably certain that Hal was not a spy. In TSS Chapter 13, Lemony states that he investigated the whereabouts of the two white-faced women. He even searched for bones and took these bones to a specialist several times. Imagine how long it took Lemony to carry out the verifications of every detail of what is recorded in the main story of ASOUE! It is interesting that Lemony to write TSS spent a lot of time looking for the caravan where Violet and Klaus were and did not find the caravan.

The world in which Lemony is publishing his books undergoes great changes over time. For example, after the publication of TRR, Prufrock Prep closed. Valorous Farms Dairy was burned down. Mamba du Mal was killed.

So, all this leads me to believe that the Hotel Denouement was rebuilt over the period of many, many years that Lemony took by writing and publishing each of the books of ASOUE. Accepting this helps to understand that the letter is talking about another quest for another sugar blow at the Denouement hotel.

In addition, D. helped me by explaining to me a something about The Bad Beginning Rare Edition. The Author's Notes says:

p.2 The three Baudelaire children lived with their parents in an enormous mansion at the heart of a dirty and busy city, and occasionally their parents gave them permission to take a rickety trolley-the word “rickety”, you probably know, here means “unsteady” or “likely to collapse”-alone to the seashore…

P.2 - ... That the trolley has since collapsed, and its remains were recycled into the foundation of a hotel.

D. said to me: "At the time of publication, the hotel in question was widely assumed to be the Hotel Denouement; and indeed the idea of the last safe place remaining hidden from the fire-starting side of the schism simply by merit of having only been built recently made a lot of sense. But there's no suggestion in TPP that the Hotel Denoument is of recent construction; indeed, the existence of the underwater catalogue and the sheer quantity of evidence stored therein strongly implies that this is a location with extensive history."

Thanks D.!

However, between the day Lemony published TSS and the day he published TPP, the Hotel Denouement was destroyed again. Remember, "Daniel Handler doubles events to confuse you." The evidence that I have that the hotel has been rebuilt is as follows: Lemony states that he wrote ASOUE many years after the events in ASOUE, including the destruction of the Hotel Denouement. Still, when Lemony published TSS, he wrote a letter to a woman reserving a room at the Hotel Denouement, the only way to make sense of it, is to accept that the hotel has been rebuilt. There is other evidence:

You should remember the secret signal to tell one of the hotel managers that a VFD member is on the outside calling for him. Kit explained:

TPP chapter 3:

"Frank should be watching from one of the windows of the hotel, unless of course Ernest has intercepted my message and is watching instead. In any case, when you're ready to meet him, you can throw the rock into the pond, and he'll see the ripples and know you're on your way. "

Now notice what Lemony says:

"... even after months of research, and many sleepless nights, and many dreary afternoons spent in front of an enormous pond, throwing stones in the hopes that someone would notice the ripples I was making, I have no way of knowing if the Baudelaires should have been sad or relieved to see him go either. "

Lemony was at the hotel doing his research on the Baudelaire case. In the letter, he said he would go to the hotel and actually went there. When Lemony went there, he picked up some papers from some notepad at the reconstructed hotel desk. Lemony used these papers to write letters to his editor, which are printed at the end of TGG.

However, probably while writing TPP, the Hotel Denouement was again destroyed. Notice what Lemony said:

TPP Chapter 11:

"If you were to put this book down, and travel to the pond that now reflects nothing but a few burnt scraps of wood and the empty skies, and if you were to find the hidden passageway that leads to the underwater catalog that you have remained secret and safe for all these years, you could read an account of an interpretation of sausages that went horribly wrong. "

It is interesting that Lemony again makes a point of emphasizing that years have passed since the events narrated, and the moment in which he is writing history. Daniel Handler made that clear from TRR to TPP. At no point was there a change of plans in this regard. And by the time Lemony wrote Chapter 11 of TPP, the hotel was again destroyed. But the Secret Library was intact.

So briefly. From my point of view the best way to interpret the letter is as follows:

1 - Lemony is writing to someone else, not to Kit.

2 - The hotel Denouement has been rebuilt.

3 - Lemony arranged a meeting with the recipient of the letter, in the hotel where he would find the proof that would clear his name.

This proof is probably inside another sugar bowl. It's not the same sugar bowl Olaf had been looking for years before.

Who could be the other person to whom Lemony wrote this letter? Speaking frankly, all the evidence points to Beatrice. As explained in the last Thread, Beatrice remained alive for many years after the fire of her house. According to TSS chapter 6, Sunny recalled that her mother could prepare a salad exactly with the same ingredients as the recipient of the letter. Lemony states that the recipient of the letter could remember Beatrice's birthday. And Lemony asked the recipient of the letter to book a single room for himself and her. All this points to Beatrice as the recipient of the letter. But now think of a few more details: Lemony made a point of pointing out that Beatrice should arrive at the Denouement hotel before him. Lemony was probably throwing rocks at Pond to get Beatrice's attention. But he could not get her attention. Soon after, the hotel was burned down. Lemony had said that the evidence that would clear his name was in the hotel. But apparently the proof was from the secret library. The wrong question is, "Did someone who read that letter try to destroy the hotel again to destroy the evidence that would clear Lemony's name?" However, Count Olaf was already dead by then. So the other wrong question is: "Did the proof inside that sugar bowl indicate that someone else had started the fire at the Baudelaire mansion? Was this person doing everything for Lemony not to find out the truth? "I will talk about these my hypotheses in a future text.

But we have come to an important part of our research. There is strong evidence that Beatrice survived the fire at her house. There is strong evidence that Beatrice is the true recipient of the secret letter in TSS. But in addition, there is strong evidence that Lemony, in calling her sister Beatrice, was collaborating to conceal Beatrice's identity. There is evidence that Beatrice was pretending to be Kit, many years after Kit's death. Remember that Kit died on a deserted island where few witnesses witnessed her death. Few people in the world knew Kit was dead. So Beatrice took advantage of this to pretend to be Kit. Miss K's account of Prufrock Prep is evidence of this, as I have already explained. But in addition, in TGG, Lemony told a purposeful lie.

Lemony wrote in TGG chapter 10:

"As the hook-handed man circled the brig, it was as if the baudelaires were picking through the chef's salad, mostly of dreadful - and perhaps even poisonous - ingredients, trying desperately to find the one noble crouton that might save their sister, just I am, among the paragraphs, am picking through this salad in front of me, hoping that my waiter is more noble than wicked, and that my sister, Kit, might be saved by the small, herbed piece of toast I hope to retrieve from my bowl. "

Lemony states that Kit is alive and could be saved by him. Lemony is lying because Kit was dead long ago. He's protecting Beatrice's secret identity.

It is very important to understand this part of my theory. The sugar bowl that Lemony said he was picking up at the hotel while he was writing TSS is not the same thing Olaf had been looking for many years before. Do not forget: "Daniel Handler duplicates events to confuse you." In the next Thread we will answer the question: "What was in the sugar bowl that belonged to Esmé, according to the Strange Theory of Jean Lúcio from Brazil?" and "What has to be that Beatrice survived the fire with the contents of the sugar bowl? "

#asoue spoilers #asoue chronology #asoue theories #asoue #kit snicket #beatrice baudelaire #lemony snicket the unauthorized autobiography #lemony snicket #tss #sugar bowl #sugar bowl theory

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wrldtravler · 6 years

Text

The Price We Pay (A 6.5 Fic)

Hello! So, I have this little thing for @thebookjumper‘s AMAZING Olicity Hiatus Fic-A-Thon. I absolutely loved it last year, and it’s definitely much needed since our poor bb’s are stupidly separated, once again, by a finale (yes, I’m low key throwing shade at the former Arrow writers, because... just why??).

Consider this a 6.5 fic, but it’s definitely NOT speculative because, let’s be honest, it looks like we’ll never see a proper honeymoon for them. This is a little late, but it’s for the Week 3 prompt, Hidden!

Enjoy :)

The Price We Pay

Prompt: Hidden

Rated: M

"Is that what it will take?"

Samanda Watson observed her for a moment, those calculating, unforgiving eyes carefully noting every little change in her expression. "Yes. You do this for the FBI and I can give you what you want in return."

Her heart soared with hope that might be too premature. "You can guarantee we'll be alone?"

There was an unimpressed eyebrow raised in response. "I keep my word, Mrs. Smoak. And I trust you to keep yours because you know what you lose if you renege our deal."

Felicity pursed her lips, lifting a nervous hand to press her glasses back into place. She had never been a fan of Agent Watson or her condescending tone. "I can handle it." She retorted. "And William stays with me." She reminded, pinning her fierce eyes on the FBI Agent.

Leaning back in her chair, Samanda smirked. "Of course." She confirmed with a nod.

A soft breath left her. That was the biggest concern. She didn't care what happened to herself, as long as she could still look out for William... that's all she needed from this. "So, we have a deal?" Felicity confirmed, standing and holding her hand out across the desk.

Slowly, Samanda nodded her head. Rising to her feet, she met Felicity's hand with her own for a quick shake. "It seems we have ourselves a deal."

He didn't know how long he had been out. The moment he did drift back to consciousness, he knew he wasn't in Slabside anymore.

It was warm. Not oppressively hot, but that delicious warmth one experiences while basking in the glow of a beautiful day. His ears picked up on the typically annoying caw of gulls overhead. Now, it sounded like music to his ears. Stretching his achy limbs, his fingers brushed soft sand. Those same fingers closed around the pliant material moments later, savoring the soothing feeling. Then, there were the waves. The rhythmic push and pull of water nearby nearly lulled him back to sleep.

And, that might nearly have happened if it weren't for his mind going into survival mode.

His eyes popped open, but he was forced to squint them shut again at the immediately blinding brightness of the sun. Throwing his hand over his face for protection, his bought his eyes some time to adjust as he scrambled to his knees. His eyes didn't leave any corner of his immediate surroundings untouched. But, it was just endless beach and an equally endless tree line.

And from that very tree line, Oliver picked up the sound of unnatural rustling. His eyes immediately swung to the spot, just to his right, and then frantically searched his surroundings once more. There was nothing to use for cover. He had no idea what was in the ocean behind him, so that was a no-go as well. So, he got to his feet quickly, bracing his body for battle.

Moments later, his "assailant" emerged from the tree line, less than twenty feet from him, glowing as bright as the sun above him in her white sundress. The sight should have relaxed him, even been euphoric, but it was quite the opposite. He hadn't considered that he was still dreaming... or even hallucinating. It seemed, at first glance, to be another Lian Yu situation - maybe the FBI trying to discretely dispose of him, or they were pulling an Amanda Waller and send him on some suicide covert mission without his knowledge or consent. However, the sight before him certainly meant hallucination or dream. Maybe all the beatings he took from the other inmates were finally taking their toll on his brain...

"Oliver."

Her breathless words were nearly carried away by the strong sea breeze, but he caught them. It was a single word, but it was broken, relieved, and full of so much love. It didn't dare to hope, but the emotions were too raw for his desperate brain to conjure on their own.

"Felicity?"

His own voice sounded foreign. Just as broken. The word, one he hadn't spoken in months, tasted foreign in his mouth.

From the way her face screwed up and her watery smile, she was clearly fighting tears. Something resembling a cough and a sob slipped from her lips, which she attempted to cover with a hand.

At the sound, his shoulders drooped. His own eyes teared up, and not because of the sun still cutting into his vision. Sucking in a shaky breath, he tried to open his mouth to say something else, but his lips only quivered around the words.

Even as she started towards him, tentative at first, he didn't move, still holding on to his last reservations. He couldn't let himself really accept that this was real because of the crushing disappointment that would likely follow if it wasn't. But, as she stepped into his space, her body nearly brushing his, he caught the glint of her wedding band against the sun as her hand came up to rest against his chest.

Like a dam breaking, his eyes only flashed back up to her loving gaze for a moment before he swarmed her. Wrapping his arms firmly around her waist, he pulled her close, burying his nose into the crown of her head. With a deep inhale, he hummed. Her smell. It was strong. Nothing like the faint memory he sometimes dreamt about. Somehow, she was here, in his arms again, nails digging almost painfully into his back through the thin shirt he wore. Yet another confirmation that this moment was real.

He wasn't ready to let go, but the urge to really look into her eyes again drove him to pull back. With the shift, Felicity lifted her face to his, her eyes now wet with happy tears. Her radiant grey-blue eyes clashed with his own piercing blues. Then, his lips were on hers, his hand sliding into the hair at the base of her neck.

Digging her fingers deeper into his back, Felicity pressed herself up onto her toes to meet him. It was desperate, filled with a need on both their parts to feel the human contact they had been deprived for so many months.

"How?" He forced out between heavy breaths when they parted. "How is this happening?"

Felicity stiffened in his arms. Lifting a hand, she cupped his now fully-bearded jaw. Quietly, she dropped her eyes to his chin, stroking her fingers through the soft hairs.

"Fe-li-ci-ty." He pressed, his stomach sinking at her actions.

"Oliver, I..." She started quickly but cut off with a sigh. Lifting her eyes back to his, they were hesitant now. "Come back to the house with me, then we can talk... about everything."

Oliver's brows pinched together with a quiet but frustrated huff. He needed to know what Felicity had gotten herself into to arrange this, but they needed to talk about more than just that and this wasn't the place for that conversation. "Lead the way."

Despite the tension of their looming conversation lingering between them, they made the entire walk hand-in-hand, never drifting far from the other. If Oliver weren't solely focused on what he was going to say to Felicity in a few minutes, he would have noticed that the hidden bungalow they entered was stunning – like something made for a romantic getaway.

Felicity led him to the spacious couch situated in the beautiful open space, the sea breeze swirling into and out of the bungalow through the open walls. Once seated, they were only inches apart on the count, bodies instinctively turned towards the other, Felicity's leg that was curled underneath her on the couch resting lightly against his thigh.

"What is this, Felicity?" He asked hesitantly.

Gulping, she turned her gaze to a random spot to their left. As she nervously curled her lower lip between her teeth, a familiar crease marred her brow. Reaching out, he placed a hand on hers fidgeting in her lap, drawing one of them away and linking their fingers. Turning her eyes back to him, she squeezed his fingers in hers with a small smile.

"We have 24 hours... well less than that now." She started, and now that the dam was open the words tumbled out. "I couldn't... The way you left, it wasn't right. I miss you, so much. We never got to really talk about all of this. We never got a proper honeymoon. So, I made a deal with the FBI, my services for 24 hours, totally alone, with you. To talk. To be with you. To do this the way it should have been done. I couldn't wait until your release, because there's no way of knowing that will ever happen..." She finally trailed off, fresh tears welling in her eyes at the thought.

Squeezing her hand comfortingly, he reached up to brush a stray tear that finally found freedom. He didn't want to give her false words – he'd learned recently that it wasn't wise to make promises he didn't know if he could keep. And, as always, Felicity was right. About all of it. "I'm surprised you want to see me at all." He offered weakly.

"No." She fired back quickly, her voice rising. "Oliver Jonas Queen, you are still my husband, so stop thinking like that, mister. You can't get rid of me that easily. But, you do have a lot of explaining to do before we continue."

He reared back, surprised by the sudden change. After leaving the way he did, hiding the deal from her the same way he failed to disclose that William existed, he feared she wouldn't wait for him like she always promised. Said fear kept him up most nights, so to hear her words now soothed his heart.

One thing still nagged at him, though. "Before we continue, what deal did you make?"

As quickly as her bravado came to her, it faded with the question. "I uh made my own deal with Watson. I traded my own serviced for the next year for 24 un-interrupted hours with you on this island. William will stay with me of course, that was non-negotiable, but we'll be under FBI protection now. I agreed to help them track down high profile criminals around the world..."

"Felicity!" He hissed, standing from the couch suddenly, breaking their contact. Quietly, he paced in front of her, hands flexing at his side. "Why would you do that?" He turned on her suddenly with desperate eyes. "You know you're in their custody now. You have no freedom. They say it's only a year, but there's no way they're going to let you go after this. Why would you give that up for this?"

Rising to her feet, she stared him down, chest-to-chest. "You're one to talk about making life-changing deals! And don't tell me that this isn't worth it. That's wrong, and you know it." She nearly growled, emphasizing her point with a firm poke to his just as firm chest.

"I did what I did to protect you and William. I didn't see any other way."

"How is this different?! I don't know if you're ever coming home, Oliver. I couldn't stand by, wondering what if, letting this thing fester between us. You, me, our love, your commitment to William. My freedom is a small price to pay to save what matters most to me."

Clamping his mouth shut, he huffed a frustrated breath through his nostrils. But, he couldn't argue her point since he did do the very same thing with his own choice.

"Why did you hide it from me?" She pressed on, not giving him any time to breath before diving back in.

"I was afraid." He murmured, dropping his gaze from hers, the fight quickly leaving him.

"Afraid of what?"

"I knew you would convince me otherwise. How many times have you told me we find another way." He reminded with a tired laugh. "We were outnumbered and if we didn't stop Diaz while we had the advantage... I couldn't risk anything happening to you and William if he was still on the loose."

Felicity snorted at that. "Ironic isn't it? That, after all that, we didn't end up catching him, and here I am." She remarked dryly.

Oliver was quiet, head drooped, pulling his ashamed eyes away from hers.

"But, that's not the point... You're not on your own, and you know damn well that you haven't been for a while now. Your decisions have consequences, and not just on me anymore. We have William, now. I know you meant well, but he just lost his Mom a year ago, Oliver, and then you took yourself away from him, voluntarily! He's confused." She continued.

Before Oliver could open his mouth to retort, she held up a hand. "I know. He has me. And, I love him, but I'm not his biological parent. He's known me for six months, and suddenly I'm his sole guardian. That was unfair to him, babe."

Those words hit home, making Oliver wince. "Is-Is he okay? How's he doing?"

"He's strong, just like his father." She said, a hint of pride lacing her weak smile.

Oliver took one of Felicity's limp hands in his, lacing their fingers together. "How are you doing?"

"I- I miss you. Some days are better than others. Adjusting has been... difficult."

It was subtle, but his face contorted with pain at her words. "Can you ever forgive me?"

"Yes." She responded instantly, but there were words left unspoken in her eyes.

Despite that, his heart thumped with momentary joy. "But, not yet, right?" He ventured.

Folding her lips together, Felicity nodded. "I'm not going anywhere. I. Love. You." She reminded him with firm words, cupping his jaw. "Trust me, I am under no delusion that we're perfect, but, Oliver, we still have to work on being a team. If... no, when we get out of this, we're going to take time to be better."

Leaning into her hand, he nodded. "Anything." He breathed. "I thought I learned from all of the mistakes of my past, but I guess that isn't true. I want to be better for you and William because you both are the best things that have ever happened to me." Leaning forward, he pressed a soft kiss to her upper lip. "I'm sorry."

When he pulled back, Felicity's eyes were half-open now, a serene smile on her lips. "Hmm? I don't think I caught that."

That pulled a grin over his own lips. "I'm sorry." He repeated with another kiss, winding an arm around her waist to pull her close. "I'm so, so sorry, for all of this." He whispered against her lips.

She wound an arm around his neck, pressing herself against him. "Why don't you take me over to the bed, show me how sorry you are, and get our honeymoon started." She purred, nibbling playfully at his lower lip.

Deftly, Oliver slipped his hands under her thighs, lifting her off the floor which forced Felicity to wrap her legs around his waist and arms around his neck. "Anything for my beautiful wife." He smiled, pressing a kiss against her lips as he started for the bed in front of him.

This time, the kiss didn't end so quickly. Oliver took his time worshiping her lips, even as he sat down on the bed with Felicity in his lap, her dress completely bunched around her waist in the new position. Her fingers tangled into his unkempt hair. Tugging on the strands, Felicity pressed herself into him. He growled against her lips as his body immediately responded to her.

When he finally did tear his lips from hers, it with a new mission on his mind. His hands went to his shirt, tugging it off hastily with her help. He allowed her, for a moment, to explore, running her hands reverently over everything: his shoulders, chest, scars old and new. Oliver's own gaze watched her as she soaked it in, the fascination and hunger in her own gaze testing his control.

It snapped quickly. Wrapping his hands around her thighs that straddled him, he pressed them higher until he brushed the material of her dress. Before she knew what his intentions were, Felicity wiggled her hips against him, begging for his touch elsewhere. Pressing back against her, his grip around her dress tightened briefly, fighting the needs of his body as he forced himself to drag the dress over her head.

But, as soon as the dress was on its way to the floor, Oliver wrapped a tight arm around her waist and flipped them over, nearly throwing Felicity on the bed in his haste.

"Oliver!" She squeaked with a giggle as she settled into place in the middle of the bed.

"What?" He asked innocently against her lips. Through his grin, he placed a lingering kiss to her lips before rising to his full height at the foot of the bed. Quickly, he discarded the rest of his clothing. Felicity took the hint and discarded her last remaining item as well. Though Oliver would have been content to stand there and gaze upon his gorgeous wife spread out over the silky white sheets, his body demanded they complete their task, so he quickly crawled back between her legs as soon as she successfully removed the item of clothing.

The moment he re-joined her, her hand dipped between their bodies to palm him. Oliver's head instantly dropped to her shoulder with a groan. "Felicity, please... It's been a while, I don't think..."

She had the audacity to laugh but didn't stop her ministrations. "That would be such a shame, dear husband, because I've been looking forward to feeling you insi-"

He cut her off quickly, crashing his lips against hers as he reached between them to still her hand. Replacing it with his own hand, Felicity hiked one leg up over his ass just in time for him to line himself up and slide home.

"Oh... yes...." Felicity gasped, digging the heel of her foot into his backside as she pressed her hips up against his.

Oliver's hands curled into the sheets near Felicity's head. "Yeah." He laughed out with a giddy grin.

Craning her neck, Felicity pressed a kiss to his lips through her own smile.

That woke something in Oliver and he started to move against her. Their lips parted, but they remained close, noses and lips brushing with every thrust. As Felicity's pleasure rose, her fingers dug into his back, her body slowly arching. For Oliver, his pants turned into soft grunts and his thrusts became more urgent.

Sliding a hand down the thigh wrapped around his waist, Oliver dug his fingers into her ass, pulling her as close as he could manage. It didn't take long for his rhythmic thrusts to quicken. "Felicity, I..."

"Please." She urged against his lips, starting to writhe under him with the slightly new angle.

With that simple word, Oliver stilled over her with a broken groan as he finished.

Shifting his weight onto one of his arms, Oliver wasted no time in slipping a hand between them. The moment his fingers brushed her, Felicity gasped under him, throwing her head back. Dipping his head, he brushed his lips under her jaw in a particularly sensitive place for her. "That's it, hon, let go."

His fingers didn't have to work much longer because she tightened around him shortly after, her hands desperately grasping at his back as her orgasm slammed into her. "O-oh god, y-yes." She moaned, writhing erratically under him.

Removing his hand, Oliver curled it around her waist to hold her close, letting her ride it out as he peppered her jawline and neck with kisses.

As her spasms subsided, Felicity relaxed back into the bed and placed a hand on his jaw.

Lifting his gaze back up to hers, Oliver gave her a content smile. Felicity, with her shining eyes, returned his smile. They met in the middle, lips coming together in a tender kiss. When they separated, Oliver took a moment to slip out of her before rolling onto his back, taking her with him so she remained curled in his embrace.

"Am I forgiven?" He asked, only slightly teasingly, as he tilted his head down to press a kiss into her hair.

Felicity lifted her head, resting her chin on his chest so she could meet his eye. "I don't know. I think you need to apologize some more." She said, trying to keep her voice even, but the glint in her eyes had Oliver grinning.

"You said we're completely alone, right?" He confirmed. "Totally hidden away on this island?"

She nodded against his chest. "Mmhmm." She hummed, folding her lips together.

Placing finger under her chin, Oliver urged her closer until he could capture her lower lip between his. "How about..." He started between kisses, "I make us some food, and then we go for an evening swim." He offered, still peppering her lips with slow kisses.

"That's not what I meant, babe." She pouted against his lips, wiggling against him.

Reaching down, Oliver stilled her hips with a soft laugh. "Trust me, I don't plan on sleeping, but I think you'll like this, very much." He promised, nibbling on her lower lip.

"Well... when you put it that way." Felicity relented with an amused huff, placing a hand on his bearded jaw as she leaned in to meet him for a lingering kiss.

"Happy honeymoon, Felicity." Oliver whispered against her lips.

Pausing, Felicity pulled back just enough to look into his eyes. The contentment and love in his gaze pulled tears to her own. "Happy honeymoon, Oliver." She echoed, sealing it with another of the many kisses they would share over the coming hours.

#olicity hiatus fic-a-thon #OHFAT week 3 #Olicity fanfiction #Arrow 6.5 fanfiction #Mildly nsfw... ;)

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