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an-annyeoing-writer · 4 years ago

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vulnerability. – chap. 3.

Story info:

Pair: Byun Baekhyun x Reader

Rating: +18 for mentions of s*x and violence (future chapters)

Genre: angst, smut

Chapter info:

Release date: 29th July 2021

Word count: 4 219

Warnings: none

Vulnerability Masterlist || Fanfiction Masterlist || Ko-Fi

Taglist:

@shesdreaminginoverdose @mybiasdashboard @marimsun @byuns-asscheeks @multi–kpop–fanfics @vunv @making-me-blush @skittlez-area512 @bloopbloopkai @byuns-asscheeks @baekyeonoreo @devotedexolnhottest @mingxia-nikki04 @velvetjongin @ssssssul (won't let me tag you T_T) @nemi-mei @buttercupbbh

Please, always comment on the newest chapter if you wish to be added to/removed from the taglist. I will be also checking the tags, so if you’re shy – feel free to leave a note this way.

Previous (Chap. 2.)

Chap. 3.

The tension that appeared the moment you received the phone call from Baekhyun did not dissolve with time. In fact, the opposite happened – it grew as the time passed, and as Saturday came closer and closer. Finally, once your Friday to Saturday night shift came to an end and you stumbled into your flat around 4 in the morning, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to fall asleep easily. Yet, you forced a whole cup of green tea into yourself in an attempt to soothe your nerves before sleep. Your alarm was set for noon, and you were supposed to meet at 3 PM.

You woke up feeling energized, but you knew this pattern all too well already – the tiredness would come and hit you with its whole power the day after, and you’d spend Sunday sluggish and drained. But that was okay, because Sunday didn’t matter half as much as Saturday did.

You felt a small urge to dress up; even more, actually, you felt a need to pay attention to details rather than looking fine at the first glance. Some common sense hyped up by years of watching other people and reading stories – a thorough shower, shaving, paying attention to not only what you wore outside, but also your undergarments. You lacked things that could be considered “sexy”, but – let’s face it – you didn’t think it mattered much; not after what you’d found out so far. Yet, it would be a shame if your panties had a hole in them. Wearing something neutral, but fresh was your best bet. Every few minutes, you kept reminding yourself – you don’t even know what will happen, you don’t even know if anything will happen at all. There was no reason to think that he’ll want you to undress in the first place, you said it yourself that you’re not ready for sex.

But then, it still helped you gather confidence that you definitely needed at a moment like that. Details allowed one less thing to worry about, and a better ability to focus on others, and so, you made sure the details were worked out well, and that you didn’t overdress, either; a beige shirt and jeans, all wrapped up with sneakers and another knitted cardigan of yours – neutral and polite, maybe a bit school-ish, but these were the things you mostly wore on daily basis, and you felt that going in the other direction – of tight pants, mini-skirts and see-through shirts – would not be appreciated. Your hair was pulled up into a loose bun, nothing like the ones you admired in YT tutorials, but the best you could do on your own. Maybe it was the age difference that made you feel obliged to show respect rather than expose yourself. You trusted your instinct on that, and so far, nothing happened yet to prove it wrong. The weather was starting to get warmer; these days were particularly sunny and dry, so you felt at ease without an extra jacket. It couldn’t get that bad in the evening, and you put faith in your cardigan.

Baekhyun must have thought similarly.

You stood in the bar’s entry, looking up at him for a moment; he leaned back into his usual couch, not aware of your presence just yet. He was wearing a black button-up and jeans as well, something he still looked pretty well put-together in, but not too formal – similar to your own thought process, noticeably.

You inhaled deeply, and took your time to exhale the air – until you felt ready to walk up to him.

“Hi there” he spoke as you approached his couch; as expected, he was there alone today.

“Hi there” you replied with a slight nod and a smile; your voice was quiet, as quiet as it could be without trembling in anticipation.

“You want to drink something before we go?”

You considered it for a second, and then nodded again. Baekhyun moved a bit to the side, encouraging you to join him on the couch, and you took the offer with gratitude.

“Beer? I don’t want to get you drunk, but we may sit here for a bit just to relax.”

“You can tell I need it?”

“Yes. I can tell. Your shoulders are very tense. May I?”

His hand reached to your shoulder and you nodded slightly, a bit unsure what you agreed to just yet.

He suddenly squeezed your muscle, and you whimpered. He kneaded it, and you found the tension dissolving gradually as he went on. Even with only one hand and unfavorable position, he managed to find some of the spots that required touch; that touch was welcome, slight pain coming along with it was desired for the best outcome. You didn’t notice when Baekhyun must have given the bartender some sort of a sign, but the man soon came with a beer and water that he put on the nearby table. That was when Baekhyun’s movement slowly ceased, cautiously letting go of your shoulders. You felt as if you were in a different body, the tension in your body almost gone, just as the one in your mind – the moments of physical interaction were enough to chase some of your worries away.

“You don’t drink?” You reached towards the table – it was closer to you than to him – and took the two glasses, handing him the water and keeping the beer for yourself.

“Not before,” he explained curtly, which you accepted without further questioning.

“So… what are we gonna do?” you asked carefully, sipping the beer through a metal straw, trying to give off a casual vibe despite focusing deeply on what you were about to hear.

“Depends. On how much will you allow me to do.” Baekhyun focused his gaze on something in the crowd; you felt as though it was his habit to avoid a direct gaze in an attempt to sound collected. “I had the idea of showing you some things. Just so you feel it out a little. It’s not final, but it may help the both of us figure out how we feel about it. Like a free trial, you see my point?” You nodded, but didn’t say anything, so after a moment he continued. “I won’t introduce you to everything, and it won’t last as long as usual sessions, either. I’ll talk to you a bit beforehand so we figure out some basic things. It shouldn’t make you uncomfortable. I won’t be trying anything beyond your comfort zone.”

“So, no deals a’la Fifty shades?” you felt silly the moment these words left your mouth. Baekhyun laughed awkwardly.

“No, it won’t be necessary. If you want to draw a comparison to that, I definitely won’t be dumping the whole scheme on you when you don’t even know what it’s like.”

And you won’t fuck me first thing in the plot, you added in your thoughts.

“There are a few things that I may ask you here, so that we have those out of the way,” he spoke; his tone lowered a little. “I need you to tell me if you have any illnesses or old injures that could influence your physical capacity.”

You thought for a bit; the answer was important, but you couldn’t recall much.

“I don’t think there’s anything important.”

“Is there anything unimportant?” His gaze pierced through you as he caught on your wording.

“Uh… I’m taking pills for my thyroid, but it’s nothing very dramatic” you explained. “Nothing else that I know of.”

Baekhyun nodded slowly.

“Fair. Next question, is there anything you’re particularly scared of? Phobias, or things you’re scared of in general, anything overly triggering that you want to avoid at all costs?” You already revealed some of these during your first conversation. But now you felt more at ease, and you thought you could be more detailed without sounding overwhelming.

“I’m… scared of fire. And hate my hair being pulled. I don’t know, why. I can’t explain it. It’s just…”

“It’s alright. You don’t need to explain yourself to me” Baekhyun looked at you with his eyebrows slightly furrowed. “You sound like it would stress you out to share. You don’t need to be afraid of that. You don’t owe me anything, keep that in mind. It’s not supposed to feel like an obligation.”

“I-I know.”

“I’m scared of heights, by the way.” You stared at him in confusion. “Hm? Just thought it’s fair to share if you did.”

“Oh.”

“Chill out.” He nudged your glass with his hand to urge you to drink some more of the beer you managed to forget about by then. It was halfway through – you didn’t want to leave the glass with some of it still inside, although it managed to make you feel just a bit sick already.

His own drink was at around the same level too, and as you finished yours, he drank the remaining water in one go as well.

You weren’t the best at handling alcohol, and even the small amounts made you a bit weak in the knees. But you felt sober enough as the two of you finally got up; Baekhyun paid for your drinks and you left the bar.

The weather was nice, as expected. Going out into the sunlight again startled you, somehow; you felt as though a lot of time had already passed. But no, it was still the same afternoon.

It was true that Baekhyun lived nearby. His apartment was in a different direction than your place, though, and you estimated it would take around twenty minutes to get from one place to the other. You knew this area, although not too well – there were only some tenement houses, but no stores or academic buildings that could gain your attention or regular presence. It was on the more expensive side, although not a place a well off office worker wouldn’t afford; just maybe not suitable for a student. The tenement houses were old, but well-kept, and you knew that the apartments were way bigger than in a place like yours.

Opening the door for you, Baekhyun invited you into the dark hallway of his apartment. There were no lights, as every wall had doors to other rooms: two to the left, one at the end of the corridor, and two more to the right, perfectly symmetric.

“Kitchen, my office, bathroom, my bedroom, and the living room,” the man told you, starting from the left. One glance into the living room on the right made you realize just how big the rooms were; enormous, in your honest opinion, with the area of something around a classroom at school, but with ceilings that reached far up, almost twice higher than in your own place. Heavy curtains hung from the top of the tall windows like limp branches of a willow tree, giving the most dramatic effect, and – likely – gathering tons of dust throughout their lifetime. Wooden, carved furniture added to the effect, and you, in all your sincerity, would not dare to ask how much such a set cost, although it would be a lie to say that you weren’t curious. Wooden panels on the floor were already worn and grey, giving you a thought that the interiors were kept in this particular shape for long years before Baekhyun began to reside in there.

“That’s huge,” you only uttered. Your eyes rested on a painting in the middle of a wall on the left side of the room, above an eclectic-green, velvet couch, in front of which was a wooden coffee table, and which gave a perfect sight into an old TV on the side of the room, as it was one of the old-styled, small models that would be hard to look at from the distance between one wall and the other. The painting looked old, but you wondered from the distance, whether it was not just printed in good quality, with all the details of lights, people and nature making it look like a piece of national heritage rather than a small private property. It portrayed a battle scene coming to an end, warriors in shining armor stained with blood resting upon trees and a small pond of pinkish water, at either sunset or sunrise – you weren’t sure.

“You like it?” He caught your stare and followed it, giving himself a few seconds to adore the painting as well, as though he hadn’t looked at it enough despite living here.

“It’s too violent,” you decided after a moment. “But it’s nice to look at.”

“It’s not that violent in itself, I think. But it does conjure the thought of it.”

He left the living room with you still in the doorframe, staying to look at the painting just for a few more seconds. When you turned around, he was entering the kitchen – this room also looked old, but less well kept; it was cleaned up perfectly, however the furniture was shabby, with the surfaces often partly rubbed off and grey; this room simply screamed for renovation. But you felt way more at ease with the fact that it looked similar to yours – the one that was over twenty years old when you moved with and you had no way of changing it without getting in trouble with the landlord. And not like you’d want to do it at all, since you’d move out right after your studies anyway. The only difference was that you tried to make your apartment look a bit warmer with colorful lights and other cheap ornaments here and there, while Baekhyun’s kitchen was just left as it was, as though he gave up on it the moment he moved in.

“Hungry?”

“Not much.” You were still full of the freshly consumed beer.

Out of the fridge, Baekhyun took a bag of half-eaten potato chips. You stared at him with your eyebrow raised as he ate a few of these, and then extended the bag towards you, to which you only shook your head and he put the bag back in the fridge. He caught your look.

“Food moths,” he explained. You slowly nodded in understanding. That’d be a useful tip if you ever got those. The summer was slowly coming; soon, your small apartment would also be filled with bugs, and fruit flies, mosquitos, and sciarids because you kept a few plants in (discovering that sciarids and fruit flies were not the same thing was an important step in achieving perfect harmony in your adulthood).

You sat awkwardly by the table, observing him as he reached for the bag he must have left on the counter before he went to pick you up, and took out leftovers – probably from work – putting them back in the fridge.

“You worked today?” you asked.

“Yeah, just an average thing, a strategic meeting with co-workers. My working hours are not regular, so I didn’t really know I was gonna be out today.”

Once he was done, he sat by the table as well, and you leaned a bit forward, resting your chin on top of your hand.

“You could have postponed it with me, you must be tired,” you said.

“Don’t worry, I’d rather have a chance to relax with you.”

That didn’t sound as innocent as he probably tried to make it, and he looked over his shoulder to make sure he didn’t scare you with the choice of words. You only laughed awkwardly.

“Anyway. Since, as I said, I don’t want to intimidate you, I think we’ll stay in the living room since you seemed content with that,” he spoke casually.

“So, no playroom?” you uttered. Baekhyun choked on the chip in his mouth.

“I don’t own such a place. I just usually use the bedroom. Or the bathroom,” he explained.

“Or the office?” you felt bold enough to suggest, giving him a small smirk.

“No, I assure you the office is for what offices usually are.”

You smiled innocently as Baekhyun stared at you, probably trying to mask sudden shyness.

“Either way,” he cleared his throat. “I told you some about what I want to do, but you haven’t told me if there’s anything you’re interested in trying out. I assume you did see some things, so… Is there anything that you’ve been particularly interested in?”

The harmless way in which he phrased the question absolutely didn’t change the fact that he was, basically, asking what kind of porn you watch.

“I uh… I like watching different things, just out of curiosity, but I’m not really sure if there’s anything I like particularly more than other things… I suppose bondage is the biggest basic.” You tried, you really tried to sound neutral, but your voice trembled a little. “But I’m not really sure, to be honest. I’m quite open-minded, I suppose…” You felt silly; how could you not be able to answer the most basic question – what do you like? But Baekhyun seemed to understand that very well, as he only nodded slowly.

“What about, let’s say, pet play?” You blushed slightly. “You know what I’m talking about? I feel like a lot of young women start from there.” It took you a moment to realize that you, too, were a young woman. “Behavioral training. Humiliation. Regression. A bit of pain, if suitable. Trying out a few things to see how you respond. What do you think?”

“I think it may be fun” you said slowly. “Does it have something to do with the…?” you motioned your neck, hoping he’ll get the cue. You remembered the collars the other people wore – they were the main reason you got interested in the first place, after all. Baekhyun smiled, catching on your observation.

“Sometimes, but not necessarily. It’s just a thing I like. Do you?”

“…I may,” you answered carefully.

“Gotcha. We may try it out. You know, everyone is different. The collars are different too. I usually order them after I’m sure the person’s gonna stay, and when I know what type will be the most suitable for them. I can’t do that for you yet, but I have some spare items.”

“Do you have the ones of people who you’re not with anymore?” you asked, out of pure curiosity.

Baekhyun was silent for a moment.

“I do. But I’d rather not use them. They’re there for memory, not for use.”

“Gotcha. I was just curious,” you quickly explained.

“Do you have a safe-word?” Baekhyun’s gaze rested on you.

“…Not really. Never needed one,” you uttered sheepishly.

“You have anything on your mind?”

“Um, the… thing with lights? The red light, yellow and green?” you proposed carefully.

“That’s a good one. Tell me how you understand them.”

“So, the green one means everything’s alright, the yellow is when we need to slow down, and the red stops the scene,” you recited, as if you were reading from a book.

“That’s right. It’s easy to remember, so we can go with that.” You bit on your lips to prevent yourself from getting too excited with the apparent praise; it wasn’t anything big, of course – but you felt as though it was a praise in itself, being acknowledged for saying something right. “Another thing is that I need you to know a few rules, before we start.” You were all ears. “First, I don’t want you to be reluctant for the fun of it. Whether you want to be a brat later or not, today we’re just trying things out and I don’t want to mistake your attitude with actual discomfort, do you understand?” You nodded slowly, memorizing the words and waiting for him to continue. “Second. No pain that I will impose on you will be a matter of punishment, unless I specify so. If you don’t enjoy it, you need to tell me so. It doesn’t mean I’ll stop right away, unless – of course – you use the safe-word. However, I still expect honesty. During, as well as after the scene, when we review it. Do you understand?” The breaks in between the points gave you enough time to acknowledge the information and encode it in your memory. You nodded once again. “And for the last. Do you trust me?”

The tone made you look up at him, finally focusing on his person rather than the words alone.

“I do,” you finally decided; knowing very well what this answer would lead to.

Baekhyun’s eyes sparkled as he smiled at you warmly.

“Well then, shall we start?”

* * *

You stand in the middle of the room, the cardigan and shoes are off, your feet feel cold against the floor despite socks wrapped around them comfortingly.

Don’t move a finger, you’ve been told, and so, you stare at the painting before you, the warrior in the front staring at you back with contempt you haven’t noticed before.

Your breath trembles in anticipation as you try to hear sounds from other rooms – you do hear some shuffling, but nothing that you can figure out for sure. He must be in his bedroom, you think. What is he preparing? Which tools out of many that you’ve seen on the screen of your phone all these nights that, despite spending perfect eight hours in bed, did not end in getting perfect eight hours of sleep?

Your arm itches, but you fight the urge to scratch it; be obedient, he said.

Steps echo in the corridor and you hold your breath. Your head snaps to the side the moment you hear him enter the room again.

“Eyes down,” he commands without sparing you a glance; you haven’t had enough time to see what he brought, but you instantly obey his words. “Don’t look at me unless I allow you to.” His voice is stern, and it makes your stomach clench nervously. But it’s not a bad sensation, not at all – you grow excited. “Down. On your knees.”

You try to comply, but he still scoffs at your apparent sluggishness. You almost fall over as you let your knees bend and you finally kneel down as well as you can, eyes facing down as well, although you feel awkward as you do so.

“On your toes,” Baekhyun commands; something small but hard hits your heels, startling you, and your head whips around to see a wooden pointing stick. You swallow the gasp of surprise at the sight.

You fix your posture, your toes instantly begin to cramp; that’s uncomfortable, and your toes aren’t too flexible, it seems.

“Straighten your back. You’re slouching.”

The task turns out almost impossible to do, the whole weight lands on your toes and you frown in discomfort.

“Is it necessary…?”

“Look at me.” It feels unnatural to do so now, but you oblige, turning your head to the side where he stands. “What’s wrong?”

“My toes hurt,” you admit quietly. Baekhyun watches you for a moment.

“Straighten them. Kneel as you did before.” You bite your lips and nod, uttering a small thank you that you find suitable enough as the position gets a bit more comfortable. “Back. Straighten.”

You automatically snap back into the position. But it does feel a bit silly – like something your teachers would say, don’t slouch! A laughter comes out at the comparison, but you attempt to stifle it.

Apparently, not well enough.

The pointer hits the nape of your neck; not too hard, but the message gets through.

Baekhyun stands in front of you and, most likely, stares you down – you can’t tell; your gaze is fixated on his lacquered shoes. The shoes then move, kicking the middle of your thighs.

“Spread.”

You feel a bit awkward as you oblige this command; you only glance down to make sure your pants aren’t ripped – you never know. To your relief, they’re not. Then you try to glance forward – but, what’s in front of you, makes you more shy than anything, so you just fix your gaze on his knees instead.

“You’re slouching again.”

“Pets often do,” you note before you manage to bite your tongue; you do remember your conversation from before – wasn’t it what he was aiming for? You thought so at first. But the words were not thought through at all; you just felt a need to say something, anything, just like you’d talk back to a teacher when they became too annoying in their remarks.

You hold your breath as Baekhyun crouches down to your level.

You feel his eyes on you, and you unwittingly tremble under his gaze, forcing yourself to look even lower, not daring to break the rule. The seconds seem to last hours as he doesn’t speak a word – and he doesn’t have to. You feel intimidated.

“You want to be a pet?”

He stands up; he’s right in front of you, if you so much as leaned forward a little bit, your forehead would touch his thigh. You slightly crave the touch; but not enough to move, not when you grow petrified. The question is rhetorical. You wait for him to finish the thought.

“Then I’ll treat you like one.”

Without waiting for your reaction, he steps behind you. You hear shuffling in what had to be a box placed behind your back; you see nothing.

But you hear the harsh, recognizable clink of metal and your stomach drops.

* * *

Please, reblog if you enjoyed, it'll help me a bunch!

Author's note: Hello, have you missed me??? I'm sorry it took so long to upload, it's hard to find time among exams I had in June, and now my (first) new job! The next chapter is already being written, so hopefully, won't take that long. Remember to reblog if you liked, and I'll be really happy to hear what you have to say about this so far. Stay safe!

Next (Chapter 4.)

#exowritersnet #kdiarynet #bbh-net #exosnet #exo baekhyun #exo bbh #bbh x reader #bbh #exo #byun baekhyun #exo fanfiction #baekhyun fanfiction #exo x reader #baekhyun x reader #vg: vulnerability #vg: exo #vg: baekhyun #vg: series

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fordarkisthesuede · 4 years ago

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

Gentlepeople…

BEHOLD!

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

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

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

Prologue

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ch.1: A Different Ceiling

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ch. 2: Face Values

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

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

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

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

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

Ch. 3: Ink Trails

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ch. 4: Suite of Cups

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ch. 6: The Tips of Our Swords

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ch. 7: Drawing the Strings

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ch. 8: It Had to Be You

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ch. 9: Strength in Numbers

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ch. 10: Tantara Bounces Off of Moonlit Walls

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ch. 11: The Tolls of Justice

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 12: Ten Cheers to the World!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"[…]'you're the moon to my sun'" [John, 'paraphrasing' Bruce] - In Tarot terms, this is a reference to the Sun card, representing joy, success, and masculinity, as well as another reference to the Moon card. One can also interpret the Sun card as "success in overcoming your obstacles or fears". As the Moon card can represent inner fears and femininity, it's a fitting opposite for interpreting this romantic line. While Bruce doesn't exactly embody the "positivity" and "joy" that this card represents, he brings that feeling into John's life, and Bruce is more traditionally masculine in contrast to John. This is also an overt use of the phrase "[they're] the moon to their sun" - a romantic notion that one person, though the opposite to the other, is completely complementary, like a One True Love. TeamFourStar's playthrough of TellTale Batman: The Enemy Within had not one, but TWO mentions of the "moon to [their] sun" line, the second of which was referring to John and Bruce. This one's for you, fellas!!! ( ^3^)

○ Funnily enough, The Moon is a very broadly interpreted card. Sometimes it's not a good card to have because deception, manipulation, illusion, and mystery/confusion are all potentially at work in your life. Sometimes it's an excellent card, because it tells you examine your feelings to resolve a problem, or tells you that you aren't seeing the whole picture. The reversed of the card is often attributed to avoidance of one's problems and further confusion, but also clarity, truth, and the full view of what's going on. If John is the embodiment of The Moon in the upright position, then I say Bruce is that of the Reversed Moon…

"[…] two lovers against the world" - Another classic romantic phrase that can be turned into a Tarot reference. The original phrase is meaning two romantic partners are pitted against "the world"/external forces that threaten to tear them apart, but they are committed to each other regardless. You can't really pit cards against each other in a reading, but you can read Past-Present-Future. In which case, in story terms, The Fool is always the Past, The Lovers is the Present here, and The World is the Future. As mentioned earlier, The World represents harmony and completion - if reversed, it would mean incompletion and chaos. The Lovers card is representing a strong union being forged between two people, very often romantic in terms of the Tarot. The meaning is usually attributed to decisions in a relationship being made (whether to start a new one, or to deepen the one you have), but it can also represent people outright, as well as an indication that a new partnership/relationship is on the way. When reversed, Lovers represents disharmony, imbalance, or a loss of relationship. In our story, of course, our two lovers are representing the upright reading of the card in the Present, showing as a strong couple. As it's "against", it implies that The World is something that will be a challenge, so it's likely Reversed. Which is a pretty good representation of Gotham in general, isn't it? lol~

○ The Lovers can also be seen symbolically in chapters 8 and 9, when Bruce and John are laying opposite each other and linking pinkies/holding hands at the hotel. :)

○ John uses the romantic line regardless of whether he's a vigilante or not! If you didn't get the Best Ending, aka our Sleepover Ending, Bruce would wind up back in the parlor with John as usual, and once the rest of the fam are gone (if they were there at all), he uses it to describe themselves. In the villain route, Bruce and John converse in the Batmobile on the way back to Arkham, and John uses the line there, too. ;3c

○ Naturally, you don't really get this complete scene if "your" Bruce is with Selina in the vigilante route.

Ending Type - …it's not a tarot reference or anything specific. I just wanted to let you know that you can ONLY get the Sleepover Ending if you have Tiffany and John in Bruce's party on good terms with each other AND with Bruce.

○ You can drive Tiffy away from Bruce by saying she shouldn't be with them at the Court Battle, but also by generally not believing in her/being mean and giving a neutral reaction to her staying during Battle; she won't go back to the cave with Bruce, so you don't get a chance to speak to her directly afterwards as either character. (John can still have his conversation with her via text, and they can still end on the same terms.)

○ If you don't have vigilante!John, there's no one else to help lift the things, so Tiffy's idea is never brought up.

○ John is always simping desperate for Bruce's attention, so even if you don't treat him as well in a platonic relationship, he'll still be there for this Ending type. ;_;

○ If you have a Romanced!Selina in your party, Selina will join you in both Court Battle and the Ending as seen in this story. It'll either cause her to take Iman's place (if she is not present) or to have extra spot suddenly appear above the rest of the group. Like Tiffy, she overheats and needs more space too cool off.

§ You can also talk to her as John, and sort of makeup/say your part of the team now. (But John will still be somewhat jealous of the attention she gets.)

§ John doesn't get the emotional hug with Bruce if Selina is around - especially since she doesn't temporarily leave with Tiffany and Iman - but the conversation is almost the same.

§ Naturally you can talk to her as Bruce, too. I don't think on her options too much, but they'll likely talk about change and what it means to have this "job" and internalizing too much of their emotions/themselves.

§ If you and Selina are only friends, Selina can join you in the Court Battle, but will text you instead of sticking around.

1:06 A.M & [Clock time on Belltower in Chapter 11] - Bruce's sense of time is off, which is why he's surprised it's after 1AM and not closer to 2AM. (Can't blame him, he was unconscious for a while and a whole bunch of stuff happened.) I figured if Bruce broke out of his kidnapping ropes at 10PM sharp, and drove all the way to the GCPD, that's about 20-30 minutes in his supercharged car, if not a little less, plus with 5 minutes to escape proper. If we think GCPD is sort of a halfway point to Old Gotham/The Coventry district, it's another 15 minutes to there. So he'd arrive at the Church of Mercy before 11PM, and wait John for around another 10-15 minutes, including with all the investigating inside. The "trial" scene probably took another 10 minutes until Batman crashed it, and fight scenes seem long because of all the action going on, but by the time Bruce and co' leave, it's not 12AM yet. The bell-tower in the Church of Mercy is actually off by about 20 minutes… And what do you know, card XX (20) of the tarot's Major Arcana is Judgement, alluding to karma at work! It can also be attributed to a life change. ;D

"11:43:20PM" - this wasn't deliberately meant to allude to anything. It took the batfam about 2 minutes from the last toll to leave the church. Bells' tolling speed is varying between clocks and towers, but you can estimate about 30-45 seconds for a full twelve. If it rang at 11:40 exactly, then…ugh, this is sounding like math homework.

Epilogue:

[Still a WIP, so will be updated after it's uploaded! Shouldn't have much, though! Saay, isn't there a Major Arcana card missing? (9v9) I wonder what that iiiiis~]

So that was [just about] all of them! I had a lot of fun weaving them throughout the story this time, especially with the story's themes! AtBoM didn't have as nearly as many, so they weren't really worth mentioning before.

I hope this was helpful to those of you who were interested in diving beneath the surface of BtTTS: TToJ~!

#ttoj #ttoj reference guide #telltale batman #batman the telltale series #tarot cards #I made it a goal to use all the Major Arcana!#fortune-telling #it took me a month to compile this whole guide #I had notes scattered between my Word doc and google doc #hopefully this wasn't too hard to read #even if no one got any of these i'm satisfied!#they were really fun to write!!#edit: corrected Eric's last name (my bad)

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itsamejin · 5 years ago

Text

even so || jimin angst

Summary: Connected by an invisible red thread, Jimin and you were lucky to find each other so early on in your lives. High school sweethearts and soulmates for eternity. It was only until your dream of being a singer shattered your delusions of happiness. Jimin was left lonely and you grew busier as the days went by. Even so, you were still soulmates- shouldn't that be enough?

Genre: angst, fluff, soulmate au, highschool au, idol au

A/N: Imagine Jimin with glasses for this one.

—

When you met Jimin for the first time, it wasn't the breathtaking experience that so many other soulmates claimed to have. In fact, it was quite forgettable. You locked eyes with him on the first day of high school, exchanged contact information, and moved on with your day. You two were only fourteen after all, a strange age to find the love of your life.

Jimin didn't understand the idea of soulmates at all, only knowing that a red string appeared so suddenly, wrapped around his pinky finger, that he had to chase after the other end. He followed its tracks until it led to you. He was elated to see another person clutching the string just as hard as he had, but his expression softened into apprehension after seeing you. He’s never dated before. How was this going to work out?

—

The first date was the most awkward. You were all dressed up while he wore a jacket, T-shirt, and ill-fitting jeans. He thought that you were probably looking down on him, but the way you so genuinely smiled when you first saw him made his heart melt.

You two went out to watch a movie at the mall. It wasn't a very good one and the two of you made no interactions at all, with no pocket money to buy popcorn either. Luckily enough, Jimin had enough coins to play some games with you at the cinema arcade. You were eyeing a particular plushie in the claw machine, a sunflower with a cute little face on it. He spent coin after coin attempting to get it out. When it was down to the last two coins, you asked if you could try.

"I'm not that good though," you muttered.

Not only did you get the sunflower out, you managed to grab the other sunflower next to it. With two plushies in hand, you seemed satisfied. Jimin blushed in absolute embarrassed, ears red and glasses foggy. Chuckling at his uneasiness, you took his wrist and planted one of the sunflowers into his arms.

"This could be our first couple item," you grinned.

Turning you back on him, you walked towards the air hockey table where you proceeded to absolutely obliterate him in that too.

—

Jimin texted you everyday about pretty much anything, even meaningless stuff like running out of toothpaste and not wanting to cut his nails. It was weird broadcasting how his day went to another person, but it felt good to unload his thoughts to someone else besides his video-game addicted friends.

At the same time, you'd text him all about yourself. How you loved to sing and dance, often breaking out in song during your late night calls.

“Hey stop, your neighbors are gonna complain again,” he laughed as you stomped around your room as you facetimed him.

“Screw my neighbors!” you screamed, continuing to sing your heart out to Twice. He laughed his heart out at your silliness. The shy and reserved Park Jimin had gotten used to having you glued to his side.

—

For Jimin, life never felt more at peace when he was walking you home from school late at night, earphone in one ear while you had the other. The red strings that attached the two of you together would look the most vivid when you were in such close proximity like this.

You walked side by side listening to some indie rock band that Jimin was obsessed with lately. He didn't know if you'd like it, but he smiled at the way you swayed along with the lyrics. He took a look at his right hand, brushing against yours every step he took. He wanted to hold it. Jimin didn't know why this thought just suddenly popped up, but he found himself paying attention to your fingers more than usual. Slowly trying to find a right time to wrap his fingers around yours, you beat him to the chase. You clutched his palm in your own.

"It's been like five minutes, I was wondering what was taking you so long," you teased. Jimin scoffed, his face reddening. The two of you stopped walking, opting to just look at each other instead.

He got more embarrassed as you stared him down with that mischievous smile of yours. You swung his hand around and grabbed his left one. At that point, you were just chuckling at how flustered he looked. He was so fun to tease.

The earbud had disconnected from your ear and you could better hear the music coming from the shop near you. It was playing a pop tune, a song you've heard millions of times on the radio. Without thinking, you started humming and playing around with Jimin's fingers. When the chorus hit, you started singing the actual lyrics. All Jimin could do was stare at how immersed you were in your own singing. He watched as you let go of his hands and started jumping around him, dancing along even if the music had started to fade to the next one. After a few more seconds of public embarrassment, you stopped.

Jimin looked at your face and wondered if it was the right time to kiss you then. Shaking that feeling, he just patted your head and called you stupid. Jimin took your hand in his and put the earbud back in your ear. The rest of the walk home was filled with silent giggles and swinging arms.

Filling out a math worksheet, Jimin sat on your bedroom floor as he listened to your guitar playing. He tried to get you to study with him, but you begged for a long-deserved break. The first semester final exams were nearing, but you didn't seem to care all that much. Jimin had the sudden urge to just pull you next to him and force you to at least solve one question. But to his avail, the only thing you'd be caught doing tonight is playing some Girls Generation song in acoustic.

A slight tapping at your door ruined both of your focuses.

"Sweetie, can you turn it down. I have a very important phone call right now," your mother said, peaking her head through the open door.

All you did was nod. Your mother took a look at Jimin and gave a fake smile. He threw one back, but your mom had already slammed the door shut before she could see.

Your parents weren't very welcoming people. When he introduced himself as your soulmate, the reaction that came from the both of them were disbelieving.

Most people in their lifetime would never meet their soulmates. Your parents weren't soulmates and his weren't either. In fact, you two were the only soulmates he knew.

Maybe that's why you two never announced it to the world, afraid of the soulmate skeptics claiming that seeing a red string when your soulmate nearby was just a form of hallucination. But Jimin and you both knew that if anyone were to denounce the love you two had for each other, you wouldn't hesitate to punch that person right in the face.

—

Exam season had ended and a two week break came after. It felt refreshing not being in a school uniform all the time. As you dragged Jimin through the busy streets of a nearby shopping street, you couldn't wait to show him a surprise. The guitar case on your back bounced with every step and Jimin wanted to scold you for bringing your instrument around so carelessly. Abruptly stopping at an open space, Jimin noticed the mic stand, keyboard, and amplifiers that were already set up. You were gonna play that night.

You let go of his hand and set the guitar case on the floor. Unzipping it, you took out a sleek blue electric guitar. It looked brand new.

"Spent my whole allowance saving up for this," you said proudly, holding it up for him to touch. "I'm gonna play it tonight."

Jimin smiled at your enthusiasm.

"You're gonna do amazing," he told you, patting your head.

"Of course! Would you expect anything less?"

Almost out of thin air, your band-mates appeared one by one, cheering you on. One guy went to the keyboard and started playing some random scales. Another set down some buckets and started tapping them with drumsticks. A girl whipped her bass out and started plucking. In some weird way, they all had started to riff off with each other. You finally came in after plugging your instrument into the amp. The electric guitar sounded crisp and he couldn't help but clap along to the beat of the music. Moving the mic to meet your mouth, you had started singing a song so familiar to him. It was the one that he showed you. That one song from the indie band. He broke out into a huge smile and sang along with your beautiful voice.

Jimin could've sworn that he was the only audience member, but people started to pile up by the dozens. Now, he only seemed like a tiny speck in such a large crowd. Everyone was entranced by your voice. He was so happy for you in that moment, getting the recognition you finally deserved and having so much fun at the same time.

At that moment when you played your little solo, he wondered what he had done in his past life to deserve you. The thought was interrupted, though, when he met eyes with a professional looking man. He had a mustache and was in a full suit and tie. As if taking notes, he typed something down on his phone and took a video of your performance. Jimin clapped along with everyone else, but couldn't take his eyes off of the strange man. In some weird way, he had a bad feeling about him.

—

It was nearing the end of your first year in high school when you got called out of class to meet a man in a black suit and sunglasses. He was a scout from some big name record label. Encouraging you to audition for his company and handing out his contact info, the man left you in the hallway feeling mildly confused. Your home room teacher who pulled you out, looked disapprovingly.

"Being an idol isn't a stress-free job you know? I wished you put as more effort into your studies than that guitar you lug around," Mrs. Kwon said, malice laced in her voice.

She always found a way to make you feel absolutely horrible about your love for music. Clutching the man's business card, you didn't know what to do. Of course you wanted to be a singer. But an idol? That was a whole different type of commitment that required years of training. You didn’t know if you were cut out for that lifestyle. But something in you wanted to prove Mrs. Kwon and even your parents wrong. Shaking your head, you went back to class.

—

"I just don't know if I should do it," you ranted, swaying aggressively on the swing set.

Jimin sat almost perfectly still on his as he listened to you groan on and on about how much you wanted to put Mrs. Kwon in her place.

"Why don't you just audition? I mean, you like singing," he reasoned.

She shook her head.

"But what if I get laughed at? What if I screw it all up and they ban me from ever trying out again!" you whined.

You looked so adorable, puffing up your cheeks and furrowing your brows. He wanted to squish you up right then and there.

"You act like you haven't performed in front of people before," he replied.

You stopped swinging and looked at the ground, digging your shoes into the sand.

"I don't think I'd be good enough," you muttered.

Jimin clutched the chains of the swing set, getting upset with your lack of confidence.

"You know, the happiest I've ever seen you is when you perform," he said, standing up and crouching down in front of you to see your face.

"And I don't think I'll ever meet a person that sings and dances as well as you," he continued.

You blushed and crinkled your nose at him. You were flustered with the way he was looking at you, his glasses slightly foggy.

"You know, I'm not happiest when I'm singing," you whispered.

Jimin tilted his head, hearing you but not quite.

A little louder you said, "I'm happiest when I'm with you."

And it felt right in that moment to lean into him and kiss his slightly pouted lips. The two of you being inexperienced, there was no movement, but you still felt the magic of it all. After a few seconds of staying still, you took the initiative and curled your fingers around his hair, kissing him a little deeper. Jimin's breath was honestly taken away. He wouldn't have ever imagined his first kiss to be on a children’s swing set in the middle of the night. It felt like a cliche romantic comedy that would play on KBS. You pulled away, breathless.

"You're really pretty," he said after a few seconds of maintaining eye contact.

You chuckled and gave him another peck.

"You are too," you said teasingly. To that, he pretended to shudder and enveloped you in a tight hug.

—

At the age of 16, Jimin could safely say that he was enamored by you. By every movement and every word you spoke, he couldn't help but be infatuated.

You could say the same about him. You loved how smart he sounded when he explained math equations and how eager he was to take you out on dates. It was a literal dream come true of how well the two of you clicked. Although he was more reserved and you were sociable, the connection you two shared was practically unbreakable. Whenever you were nearby he'd toy around with his red string and wonder how lucky he was to find his soulmate when so many people in the world would never have a chance to find their's.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked after he completely zoned out looking into your eyes.

“Nothing,” he blushed. “I just wanted to look at your face.”

You giggled in embarrassment and gave him a quick kiss.

“No time to do that, Ms. Kwon’s gonna kill me if I don’t pass the exam tomorrow,” you said with a strong sense of determination.

He smiled and tucked a strand of hair out of your face and behind your ear. You sucked at trigonometry.

—

“I got in Jimin. Oh my god I got in!” you wailed, jumping up and down in his room, clutching your phone.

The record label had emailed you a congratulation letter for making it past the three auditions necessary to join as a trainee. Out of thousands of applicants, you had come out on top. Jimin laughed at your enthusiasm and forced you to sit back down.

“I told you didn’t I? That you’d do amazing? In fact, I think you should probably thank me for being such a supportive boyfriend” he teased.

Lunging at him, you peppered him with kisses around his whole face.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you repeated, crying tears of joy.

He pulled you into a soft embrace and squeezed you so tightly that it was getting hard for you to breath. He let go briefly.

“Without you I don’t know what I would do,” you cried.

“Without me you’d still be amazing,” he chuckled.

In hindsight, he probably should have said "That's right you can't live without me!"

—

Jimin didn't think you'd start training so soon. Just two weeks after passing your auditions, he stood in front of your house helping you load your luggage into your dad's car.

He didn't have the heart to talk about how anxious he was, especially when you stood by his side with such a glimmer of hope in your eyes. You were excited and he couldn't ruin that for you, not even when the feeling of dread bubbled up in his throat.

"You have to promise me to text me good morning and good night everyday or else," you said scrunching your nose and wagging a finger at him.

He chuckled.

"I think you're gonna be the one having trouble with that," he teased but slightly hurt with his own words. “Being an idol and all that.”

You punched his arm lightly.

"Don't you dare forget about me, alright? I have eyes and ears all around Busan," you teased.

All he did was laugh, but the pain was evident in his eyes. You squished his cheeks and smiled.

"I like you a lot Jimin," you said, blushing a bit.

He smiled back.

"I like you too."

—

Now studying in Seoul instead of Busan, you were adapting to an environment that was very much different from your everyday routine back at home. Seoul was huge and only having gone there once before moving, you felt extremely homesick without your parents or friend to keep you company.

The video calls you had with Jimin were always cut off early by your busy schedule and you're once affectionate and emoji-filled texts became one word responses in fear of being found out by your trainers. It shouldn't be a secret but you knew the consequences of your company finding out.

That's the thing, though. You can't have a soulmate if you're an idol. It was an unwritten rule and one that wasn't talked about because soulmates weren't really that common anyways. You had to find that out the hard way after a phone call with Jimin led to a confrontation with your roommate Hangyeol.

"You need to break up with him, [Y/N]. Dating will ruin your chances of debuting if they find out," she said, offering advice.

You chuckled.

"I can't do that. We're meant to be, you know?" you said, not really taking her words seriously at first.

"That's sweet, but you know you're still in high school," she started. "There's plenty of fish in the sea, especially after debuting. There’s so many cute guys out there."

"Well he's the only fish for me," you said, eliciting an amused eye-roll from Hangyeol.

"You're too young to be making that decision already, dummy," she said, poking you on the nose.

"No, I mean it," you said seriously, getting slightly irritated with her insistence. "We're soulmates. Red string and all."

You said this casually but Hangyeol's expression darkened so quickly you thought you had insulted her somehow.

"Don't ever say that again," she said seriously, moving closer to you.

"What? What do you mean?"

"Keep your voice quiet or else the others will hear," she said in a low whisper.

She grabbed your wrist and pulled you close.

"You're scaring me, Hangyeol."

"You can't be revealing stuff like that so easily, [Y/N]. Idols can't have what you have," she said, clearly dodging the word soulmate. "You'll get kicked out if they find out. Remember that."

She took a step back from you and you could only give a tiny nod.

"C-can I ask why?" you stuttered.

"When we become idols, our fans will always be the first priority," she said strictly. "We can't have room for anyone else."

Somehow, as she walked away, your lips started quivering. You had to take a step outside of the dorm to let yourself cry your eyes out. That was another unspoken rule.

Don't show that you are hurting or else they'll ask why.

—

The distance was killing him. Classes were boring without you being his distraction, playing video games weren’t the same without you trying to steal the mouse from him every once in a while, and waking up to his alarm rather than multiple notifications from you made his heat ache.

It hurt like hell to see your band perform without you during the end-of-the-year school festival and it hurt even more when he started senior year without you sitting next to him during the welcome ceremony. His world felt less vivid without you and he wondered how he even lived without you by his side in the first place.

He never saw his red thread anymore, either. No matter how many times he wished you’d appear in front of him and spontaneously to engulf him into a warm hug, you would still be in Seoul and he would still be in Busan. You weren’t of much help to alleviate his feelings of abandonment either. He was right to doubt that you’d keep up your end of the promise.

Sometimes you wouldn't respond to Jimin's texts for days and all the feelings he'd bottled up had nowhere to go. He found himself writing letters addressed to you, but the piece of paper was meant for written rants and insecurities for his eyes only. Sometimes he wonders if he should ship it off to your company just to see your reaction, but he didn't have the guts to even try it. Even now he doubts if you’d reply back.

He checks his phone again to see a voice memo from you.

"Hey, I miss you so much. I'm visiting for Christmas so let's meet up then."

He wondered why you couldn't have just called to tell him, why you had been whispering so lowly. He ruffled his hair and called your cellphone. Unsurprisingly, itt was automatically forwarded to a voice mail.

Sunflower [4:38 PM]

sorry can't talk right now. im around a lot of people rn

It occurred to him then that you were keeping him a secret.

—

Christmas came too soon in his opinion. He'd have been more enthusiastic to see you if it wasn't for the dreaded intuition of his... that you were deliberately keeping your relationship under wraps.

He was certain it was the case, testing out your responses based on what time of day it was. During weekdays, you barely responded. He’d find himself double-texting and triple-texting without even you reading his messages. At night during weekends, when you were presumably sneaking out of your dorm, you'd have time to chat with him over the phone. But even then those conversations lasted less than five minutes.

You had made it so obvious and yet it took nine months of you being gone for him to realize that this distance was intentional. That he was feeling all lonely by himself.

When he walked to your home on Christmas night, your mother greeted him. He hadn't visited since you left, feeling awkward without you there.

"She's upstairs," she said curtly. He bowed his head out of respect. As he got closer to the staircase, the red thread appeared once again. A surge of happiness overcame him and he was starting to feel excited. He missed how it felt to wrap it around his wrist, reveling in the thread’s vibrant color. He wondered if you felt the same too.

Jimin didn't know what to do if he was being honest. He stood in front of your door, but it didn't feel like he had the right to enter. He knocked until turning the door handle to open just slightly. He opened it wide when he heard no verbal response and he saw you sitting by your window, your back facing him. He coughed lightly to get your attention and you finally turned around.

“Jimin,” you said, smiling softly. There was a lack of excitement in your eyes that he just couldn’t shake off, even with the red thread being there to ease the tension. You looked different.

Your eyes were sullen and your lips chapped. It made his heart ache seeing you so unlike yourself.

Or maybe this is who you are now.

He walked towards you cautiously, afraid you’d break at the sound of his footsteps. Jimin sat on your bed facing you. He didn’t know why, but he was nervous.

“You look tired,” he said worriedly. You chuckled in response.

“Just couldn’t sleep well last night,” you said, feigning a smile. “I really wanted to see you though.”

You took your hand in his, laughing in your head as you felt how sweaty his palms were. You missed this feeling.

“Do you wanna go see the Christmas tree at the outlet?” he asked. “I heard the lights are really pretty this year.”

You realized then that he was nervous because of your lack of response. He missed you as much as you missed him.

“Yes! I feel like we should do some shopping,” you said excitedly. It was the first time since he came that you actually gave a genuine response.

“Alright, get ready then,” he sighed of relief. “I’ll wait outside.”

Jimin moved to stand up, but you stopped him with a kiss on his cheek. He blushed a bright red.

“J-just call me when your’re ready.”

You giggled as he walked out the door. You missed him. So damn much.

—

At the outlet, you spent the whole time together ordering all the food that was restricted of you back in Seoul. You ate pancakes, donuts, ice cream- anything that would satisfy your cravings after a prolonged period of dieting. Jimin found it amusing as you spent most of the time at the outlet looking for food rather than shopping for clothes. You two had yet to exchange Christmas presents and he was getting antsy with the small box he hid in his pocket. He got you a studded sunflower hair clips, custom made by him with some help from his grandmother. It wasn’t all that much but you were never one to expect expensive gifts anyways. He hoped you’d notice the sentiment behind it.

Jimin stopped you in front of the outdoor Christmas tree, taking a few pictures together as the snow fell upon you two. He wished the red threat could have been visible through photographs, but alas you two just looked like an ordinary high school couple. As he browsed through the photos to choose which one to make his lock screen, you took out your own present for him.

“Jimin, Merry Christmas,” you said, pushing the small envelope toward him. He saw a glimmer of sadness in your eyes that made him shudder.

“Wait let me take out your present,” he said, pulling out the box and placing it in your hands.

“You open first, Jimin.”

He nodded, peeling the sticker off of the envelope and pulling out a red string bracelet, similar in color to the thread around his pinky finger.

“It’s beautiful,” he said, smiling from ear to ear. After pulling one of your jacket sleeves up, you pointed at your own wrist.

“It’s a couple item, okay? So don’t lose it,” you teased.

He ripped the tag off the bracelet and put it on his wrist.

“Of course. Now open yours!”

You smiled, but it was the kind that didn’t really reach your eyes. You opened the box and you swore you could cry at that moment.

Sunflower.

Your favorite.

“I made it myself,” he said, satisfied with the reaction you gave him.

“I love it so much, Jimin,” you said, tears welling up in your eyes.

“Put it on. I wanna see you wear it,” he insisted. All you could do was shake your head.

You sniffled and furrowed your brows. You hated that you had to say it, but you needed to. You really did.

“Jimin I have to tell you something,” you said, trying to sound calm but ultimately failing. The same feeling of dread that he felt when he first walked into your room earlier that day engulfed him.

“What?” he whispered softly.

“I... I...” you stuttered, tears ready to spill out any moment.

“Relax, [Y/N]. Take a deep breath,” he said.

You did but it only helped temporarily.

“I’m so stupid, I didn’t read the contract and I thought everything would be fine, but... but,” you said, struggling to finish your sentence.

He was patient, patting your back as you cried into his shoulder.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he reassured.

You looked into his eyes and it felt like right then and there that you’d be sentenced to life in hell.

“Jimin, I can’t be with you anymore. They won’t let me.”

A freezing sensation overcame Jimin’s body. He pulled away from you slightly.

“What do you mean?”

“They told me I’ll only get to debut if I break up with you,” you said, wishing for his warmth back. “I tried to keep it a secret for so long, but they found out after I got caught sneaking out of the dorm.”

So my suspicions were right, Jimin thought.

“We’re soulmates, [Y/N]. We need to be together,” he pleaded.

You could only bow your head down in shame. “I know, but just for now. Just until things start to work out for me and I can finally get them to understand. I promise Jimin, I just need time.”

“How long would that take?” he asked, doubt consuming his mind.

You sighed, putting you attention on the ground covered with snow.

“I- I don’t know. I just worked so hard to get to where I am now,” you cried. “They acknowledge me now, Jimin. They think I have what it takes. I really, really want to debut.”

You looked back up to him as he took you back into his arms gently. He whsipered into your hair.

“And you will. I swear you will.”

You sighed in relief.

“Promise you’ll wait for me? That even if we don’t talk, you’ll still want to be with me?” you asked as you looked into his eyes, searching for comfort.

He wanted to say yes so badly. Looking into those tear-stained eyes with exhaustion written all over them, looking at your beautiful lips and how much he wished that he could kiss them.

But it occurred to him in that moment that it wasn’t going to be as easy as you said it would be. That it’d probably take years and looking back at the measly nine months he spent without you made his heart clench at just the thought of it. The endless pit of loneliness, the feeling of being ripped from something he knew he should’ve been a part of him. He remembered the countless letters he wrote addressed to no one in particular and how he cried almost daily at the thought of you forgetting about his existence. If he had to endure that pain any longer he’s sure he’d go crazy. If he had to watch you debut and live your life without him... it would just be too much for his heart to handle. Even as you looked at him so intently, he couldn’t find it in himself to agree.

“I’m sorry [Y/N],” he said softly. “I don’t think I can promise that.”

He pulled your hands that wrapped around him and took a step back. Your mind was spinning.

“What do you mean Jimin?” you asked, fear laced in your words.

“I don’t think I can wait for you,” he said as calmly as he could. “I don’t think I could handle anymore waiting.”

“But you said it yourself Jimin,” you cried. “We’re soulmates. We need each other.”

He nodded sadly.

“We are, but your moving on to better things in life,” he said. “You want to debut and I’m holding you back from doing that. I’d probably ruin your career if we reveal ourselves later too. You don’t need a soulmate to be happy [Y/N]. Look around us, everyone’s doing just fine.”

He was levelheaded, but in the inside he wanted to punch himself twenty times over at how he was handling this. But it was true in a way as you looked around the courtyard filled with happy couples and cute children. How many of these people were soulmates? Probably none. You could spend the rest of your life not knowing your soulmate and still fall in love and still achieve great things. But if you’ve already met the one, how could you possibly forget him?

“Jimin, please,” you said, attempting to reach out to his face. He stepped back and avoided eye contact.

“I’m sorry [Y/N], but I can’t.”

Jimin turned around without another glance towards you and started to walk away. He couldn’t see your face because if he did, he knew it would hurt both you and him more. You needed to stop him, you needed him back in your arms, but your feet refused to move- like you were stopping yourself from getting to him. You needed to say something at least, something to get him to come back.

“Jimin, I love you,” you said, tears once again cascading down your face. You didn’t think the first time you’d say those words would be when you two break up, but it was happening now and there was no going back.

He stopped momentarily, breaking down without you knowing. He wiped the tears from his eyes and composed himself.

“I love you too.”

The red thread that connected you two slowly faded away until you were there, left in front of a glowing Christmas tree and a sunflower hair clip in your hand. Curling yourself into a fetal-like position on the snow-covered concrete, you cried and cried.

But still, people walked around you, not really paying any attention. Still happy and still thriving. Without a soulmate by their side.

—

AN: I don’t know if I wanna make a pt. 2 for this, I’m kind of satisfied with the ending :3 Hope y’all enjoyed and please let me know your thoughts on this! I love the feedback you guys give me ehehe. Requests are open by the way! I’ll accept requests for BTS, Seventeen, NCT (all units), etc. Just let me know which group and I’ll see if I can write about it. Thank you guys, I’m very grateful to my readers! If I do make a pt. 2, ask to be a part of the taglist :D

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sickassastrology · 4 years ago

Text

What made you different? 🥸

This is a general reading for the collective. This read is about your person you have in mind. Remember that because it is general it will not resonate with everyone. So take what sticks. Your free to choose whatever pile you feel. Heck, there could be little messages in all the piles. Time is fluid and we all have free will. So things can play out at anytime or maybe not at all. Follow your heart always. -E 💙🌻

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Pile 1 🍒🍒🍒

Greetings pile 1, the classy crew with the rider Waite deck. let's get into it. I'm getting whoever this was misused you when they had you. I heard the line from Jackson 5 I want you back. when I had you to myself i didn't want you around, those pretty faces always made you stand out in the crowd". With this group I'm feeling like what made you different to this person was that you had it going on. you had a lot going for yourself. and you didn't share that with just anyone. your riches. your glory. whether it was your body, money, time, energy. whatever the case was...you were selective in who you gave to. you are an attractive energy and human pile 1. and you know it too. 😜 confident. I'm getting the energy of I have a lot going for me, and I'm not going to just be out in these streets. my money is good, I look good, I feel good. It took a lot for you to get there and so you won't share that with anyone & everyone. and then....you gave it to this person and decided to act a fool, right? lol isn't it always like that. this person saw you as being able to take care of yourself, even when it was a lot. im getting heavily that some of yall have family members or siblings (big on the siblings) that you take care of. you are the parental figure to them. you had a lot of responsibilities, and yet you were still like a breathe of fresh air. you still knew how to smile. mature. you always smiled in the mist of sadness. and you meant it too, like it wasn't just a mask. it was like "I still have something to smile about in life. my flowers still grow. there's happiness all around me." you still knew how to give to this person. managing the connection even with your own stuff going on. and they admired that about you. when things got tough you remained calm. never too out of control. you handled each situation how it came and for what it was. although you told this person about your life, you NEVER made it burdensome to them. like that's my life, but we are separate from that. and this person was acting stupid. I see a few of yall into the occult too. and that definitely makes you different, doesnt it lol. but you don't mind it and didn't hide it because it's who you are. when you saw there was sneaky behavior going on, you left. you used your intuition to guide you. and now, this person does have a lot to give and will give it but if I screw them over they will bounce out. you are not the one to do an unfair relationship. I'm seeing this person got caught cheating on their phone. like you saw some hidden text messages. I also heard "nude" like nude photos you found. this person was doing too much. and you were like no it's not fair. and it was like they didn't care. they were only sorry they got caught. they see you are strong, know who you are, know your worth, and you won't bow down to anyone. and that's on purrrr! it hurts you, but you know your special and you are a gift to somebody out there. so if you have to leave, then bye. you'll see why I'm special later on. and this hurts but you know how to keep pushing forward. and your person is just like, omg how are they doing this, how are they still okay!? pile 1, your energy is so beautiful 😍. its very tranquil. and im not saying that you never get upset or anything like that but there is a peace about you. like it didn't work out. okay, cool. I'll just keep working on my life, taking care of me and mine. and best of luck to them, ya know? I see you did love them, like them a lot. but that's the way the cookie crumbles. and tbh, pile 1 I feel you'll be better off without this person anyway. like you'll be happier being a lone, find somebody else, or just keep taking care of business. so many blessings to you all, you deserve wonderful things. ❤

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PILE 2 🥠🥠🥠

Hi pile 2, so while I was shuffling I heard likeable. so your very easygoing and charming im getting. this pile is nurturing, motherly. I get the energy of "ill lick your wounds for you so you don't have to". Ouuuu a healer. I see. (make sure that people don't try to get over on you, because they will try it)! You are a kind person. I'm getting friendly to everyone around. This pile is let's make love, not war. You don't like to agrue much. This person could have been a fireball and you just put their fire ALLLL the way out lol. I feel like some of yall worked with this person or around them. and there would be competition around you, and they would try so hard to get your persons attention. like look at me!! trying real hard. and then there you were like " I'm just here, doing me". you weren't trying to stand out. and they looked right at your ass too. 😂😂 Pile 2, you are almost too loving for your own good, aren't cha. 🥰 you love life. you showed this person a different way of living, like just go with the flow. but you weren't reckless. if you did go out or drink. I'm feeling like a festival or winery type. you showed this person that life is fun. you are a true free spirit. you don't let a lot of life's qualms bother you. this group is very natural. humanitarian. I heard the word garden. this pile is the type that give to the less fortunate. I'm seeing a person on the street and like you'll give them money, food, or whatever it is with no second thought. very "here you are. be blessed". and this person was in awe of that type of generosity. because this world doesn't have people like that. you weren't doing it for attention. you are a G-I-V-E-R. Tbh, with this pile I'm really feeling like you have a gift to help people, but I'm not sure that you even know that yet. you think that's just how you are. but i see you really doing things with the community. know your purpose you all, because its so important. you are balanced. Yes you are such a giving person. BUT you will hold back IF needed. you know when to hold em & fold em. that's you. you just don't have to try hard. I'm getting your person wears a mask to fit in. you do nothing, you can get somebody's attention without doing much of anything really. you love life and you give life into others. into earth. the seas. skies. heavens. whatever it is, you give life to it. this pile is an empress. very divine feminine. *(remember tarot have NO gender, it is only energy)* you'd make a good parent if you had children. *as I said that, I heard I don't want kids but I have fur babies*. 😂 okay so you take care of your pets as your little babies. we love them too. 🐾🐾 this group wishes good on other people. as I was pulling your oracle. the card purpose slips right from my hands. and it reads. purpose: I know what I am here to do. didn't I say this group fits in to a bigger picture. find the reason you are on this earth, do not waste another minute because you will feed so much life into other people. earth angels. 🥰 beautiful. pride: I love myself and see myself in everyone. and gratitude: I am thankful for life and the opportunity it presents. come through pile 2! confirmation again. I just said you love the life you live. the pride you have is almost humble. it's like you like yourself. the good. bad. ugly. and there's no better way to be. and that's why they like you! heck, I like you 😂 so awesome. let your light shine.

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PILE 3 🥦🥦🥦

Pile 3, whatsup!? How are yall feeling? So right off. This is more about your mindset pile 3. your intellect. this person valued your decision making. you moved very carefully when it came to other people. they would come to you and ask about somebody. and you could look and examine and tell if that person was okay or had some type of ill intent. umm....intuitive much? you are a very wise person. you listen a lot to your gut, even if you have to sleep on it. your going to go with what you feel. you knew how to get work done but you still made time for the connection too. I'm getting that some of you have an important job or school that takes up time BUT you knew when to be silly and take breaks too. I'm feeling like you and this person had really goody times together. snapchat filters and silly faces 🤪😂. you are a very determined person. when things get hard or you fail. you never stop trying until you succeed. but you pace yourself, never tire yourself out. sheer determination from yall. love it. there's a lot of power in that. this group loves gathering information. reading. tv. listening. however you gained it, you shared it with your person and other people. a teacher. you actually made this person become better when you spoke to them. it challenged them. you also had a quirkiness about you. I'm getting you had hidden talents about yourself that were really random 😂. but your person loved it. you all pulled the empathy card. it reads: I am open to seeing both sides of the situation. again yall, you really know how to read people. use this to your advantage and get in touch with yourself. Tbh, if you tap in...you can sense auras. if you can't already! 💫🔮

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I have to say, every single one of you are special. each of these piles possess such unique abilities and talents. bless you all. not to say your perfect by any means. but beautiful works in progress. so whether or not these connections work out or your person comes back. you matter. you don't need to change what beauty inside yourself. keep growing. keep challenging yourself. don't compromise. your worth it. so climb to the highest mountain top and scream. "I AM WHO I AM. I AM WORTHY. AND BEAUTIFULLLLL". bless. -E 💙🌻

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skyeofloxlay · 4 years ago

Text

Personality / Brief history / important things about MC / Reader for my fanfics or when I make requests.

Okay, I decided to do this more for myself when I make a request to someone, but this is also useful to let you know a little more about the MC / "reader" of my fanfics.

The MC is a cis-woman of almost 1.60cm in height, (age may vary) but generally the age will be between 20 and 23. She is heterosexual/straight (I don't know if there is a difference between the two things, but I don't understand why I would have two words for the same thing) and usually in fanfics she has never had a boyfriend before the character she will be together with (be it Jake (Duskwood), Jason (Todd), Spencer (Reid) or any other character).

She was born in Brazil and lived a large part of her life there, and depending on what story she is in, she makes an interchange trip abroad because of college, and because of that she lives far from her family and lives alone, but she has her faithful companion, a male Schnauzer dog (his name in fanfics is undetermined.)

MC has always been a lonely person, because after several events in the past she does not trust people easily, and the only people she does trust are her family, but she still has trouble talking about her problems to them.

Furthermore, MC is a very shy, introverted, anti-social person and suffers from social phobia, which of course, is a perfect combo to be an alien in society and not be able to make friends, even if she wants to.

MC also doesn't know where it all started from, but she does know that she has probably suffered from anxiety for many, many years, even though she only discovered it a short time ago, and went to get help even less time ago.

Because of anxiety, she ends up being stuck in her own world, or I should call it, hell itself. Her mind is a mess, bad, unreal and meaningless thoughts invade her mind all the time, and because she has been this way for so long without help and not knowing what to do, her situation has worsened to the point where her anxiety starts to change into a depressive anxiety.

However, as much as she has been suffering with her own mind for years, she can always count on her family whenever she needs them, even if they are distant from each other, they are inseparable.

Her father, as much as he doesn't understand most of the things she goes through, supports her and wants the best for MC, and so he does what he can to help MC pay for psychological treatment, and even though he doesn't understand, he always makes her smile and laugh, even when the situations are bad, even though he was always busy because of work, he always did what he could to be together, even in the simplest things, like family lunch, playing video games, watching movies, shopping together.

Her mother, on the other hand, has been through similar things like MC, and always try to help her the way she can, always speaking encouraging words, helping MC to do her things when she couldn't, sleeping next to the MC when she couldn't sleep because of anxiety, always being by her side, always supporting any decision, no matter the situation, MC's mom will always be there to hear her, either to hear about something that MC wants to do a lot or when she has some fear.

And there is also her younger brother (3 years younger), as much as they ended up arguing for silly things, he is her best friend, maybe her only true friend, always having fun together doing what they like, protecting each other, always being one for another, even when it was not known which words were right to say.

MC is blessed to have such an amazing family, and as much as she couldn't say "I love you, you are everything to me" to them, she loved them with all her heart and soul, and she couldn't say what would happen to her if she lost them, but probably something really bad would happen.

As much as it seemed that MC doesn't care about other people, maybe looking selfish and boring to others, she cares a lot about others, but she knows that this is also one of the big reasons why she suffers from anxiety, caring for others more than for herself, and for her own mental health, she had to try not to think so much about the problems of the world that she cannot solve.

Some people may think that she was wrong in doing this, but she wanted to have some sanity, even if little and trying to recover, than to go crazy with things that are impossible to fix, at least impossible for her to fix.

(Some other things about MC, but now simpler, because I'm out of time and too lazy, help me)

- Very distracted

- Very clumsy

- Nerd

- Dreamer / lost in her own world

- Impulsive

- Impatient

- Think too much about everything

- Studious

- Lonely

- Forgotten

- Problems with deadlines, do everything at the last minute.

- Avoid fights / arguments with people she doesn't know, but if it's someone close and it's a silly fight, she'll defend that she's right until the end, if she's wrong in the fight, she'll just be quiet for a while. If it is a serious fight, she will argue for some time until the tears stop her from continuing, and then she will be silent for a long time.

- Too stubborn

- Sarcastic with the closest people

- Always try to look for the good in people, but it is impossible for her to achieve kindness in certain people.

- Pessimistic

- Very sensitive / hurts / cries easily

- Perfectionist

- Very insecure

- She cannot express in words what she feels for other people

Likes:

Chocolate

Coffee

Rainy days

Winter

Music (Mainly, pop and rock)

To drive

Flowers

Taking pictures (mainly of landscapes)

Animals

Old things, like things related to the 60s, 70s, 80s and 90s, or things from centuries ago

History

Books

Learn things

Horror stuff (games, books, movies)

Mystery

Horseback riding

Nature

Farms

See the city lights at night

Night

Games (both video games and board / cards)

Comics, Movies, Series etc about Superheroes

Mexican food

Travel

Psychology / Understanding the human mind

Buy drawing materials and books (even though she will never use / read them)

Big clothes

Wind

Ride a bike

Explore Abandoned Places

Dislikes:

Summer

Hot days

Insects

Spiders

Her mind

Who annoy her

People fighting

See things or people comment on things related to death or illness

Having to be patient

Who speak ill of her family

Working in a group

That people belittle her feelings

Parties

People

Delays

Alcoholic beverages

Buy clothes

Make up

High heels

Short dresses

Physics

Fears / Phobias / Things that bother her:

Spiders

Falling / High height

To drown

Die

Getting seriously ill

Dark / Night

To sleep

People

Speak in public

Losing her family

Stay alone

Crowds

Closed places

Tight clothes (Because she feels they are suffocating her)

Arrive late

Forget things

Having a car accident

Never be loved / Stop being loved

Future

May her fears come true

Skills:

- To draw

- Write

- Cook

- Game programming

- Sing

- Play keyboard and guitar

- To compose

- To dance

Hobbies:

Basically, it's her skills + reading + playing video games + taking pictures of the landscape.

Job:

Usually she either works as a waitress in a coffee shop or works in a supermarket (working at the checkout or replacing products on shelves)

As much as many find it strange, MC is very happy in her work, and does not mind working in "simple" jobs (basically jobs that earn little), and as much as she doesn't have much money, just enough to live reasonably well, she is happy with what she has and doesn't care about the money.

College:

She studies digital game design

I think that's it, there are some other things that I only do when I'm writing specific situations, for example, MC's opinions on certain subjects, and honestly I don't have time at the moment to make the MC's different opinions, and just say that she tries to be as neutral as she can, because she knows that extremes are never good, and that when asked which side she is in a situation (depending on what it is, but usually she says), she says doesn't have a side because it doesn’t identify herself by either side, because both are extreme, and this usually leads people to think that it’s on the fence, but it’s not like that, it’s more or less. "You were teleported to a place, there are two paths, one on the right and the other on the left, at the beginning of each of these paths there is a person, each talking about their paths and talking about why their path is the best of than the other and why you should follow their path. And then you must make a choice of which path to follow " But MC does not agree with either side, and will not wait there to see which side gives her the best benefit as many would do, she goes there and moves on, where there is no path, where there is no one, because she doesn't want to be on anyone's side, she wants to make her own opinions, and not follow what a group is saying.

Oh, and one of the philosophies she follows is of yin and yang, which says something like "There is good and there is evil, both need each other to exist, there is no good without evil, and no there is evil without good, and that nothing can be completely good or evil, since, however small, there is evil in good, and there is good in evil. "

Some phrases she would say:

"You can say anything about me, but don't come and talk about my family"

"I can't always do it, but I always try to be balanced, because I know that nothing comes out of extremism, no matter which side."

"I'm a Christian, I may not have proofs but I believe in God, but I don't believe everything in the Bible because it was made by humans, and I know that many of them used and still use people's faith to do very bad things . "

"Sorry, but I suck at remembering names, in fact, I suck at remembering."

"Shit, I knew I was forgetting something."

"I hate logic, most of these things don't make any sense!"

"At least I have you with me here DN" (DN = dog name)

"There is nothing that is not so bad that it cannot get worse"

"I think I celebrated too soon"

"I sleep! But no matter what I do, I will be forever sleepy!"

"No matter what I do, my thoughts disturb me from the moment I wake up until bedtime, and even while I'm asleep. And it happens every day."

"Sometimes ... I think ... people would be better off if I didn't exist. I just hinder and hurt people."

"I don't know when or how it started, I just know that I have been scared forever"

"I don't do it because I want to! It's not my fault if I'm easily distracted"

"I think writing is the only way to say what I feel"

"Yes, I know, I'm crazy, you don't have to tell me that"

"I'm not a normal person. Maybe I'm not even a human? What if I'm an alien and I don't know? A synthetic human? A robot with high artificial intelligence that is identical to that of humans?"

"I don't like to be afraid, but I love to see and read horror stuff."

"I love old things, they are so fascinating"

"What day is it today?"

"I just wanted to have a little courage that other people have"

"I have no hope of anything, as always, every time I had hope, very bad things happened, close people and pets died when I had hope that they would survive. For me, hope has long since died."

"I think, in a way, I am a miracle, just like my brother. I mean, it was almost impossible for my mom to have a baby, and look, here I am."

"I'm not cute!"

"I'm not short, I'm average height, it's the rest of the people who are very tall"

(Maybe I wrote a lot? Did I overdo it?)

Sorry if there is something confusing or errors in English

#I don't know what to put here

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busterkeatonfanfic · 5 years ago

Photo

Chapter 4

The band in the Senator’s ballroom was playing a slow dirge-like version of “In the Good Old Summertime” and Buster had half a mind to kick the lead singer in the seat of the pants so he’d shut up. The head of the Chamber of Commerce was there, the mayor too, and he was pretty sure he’d met a few of the eponymous senators. He’d glad-handed for as long as he could stand it (about an hour) before slinking off into a protective circle of familiar faces. He used his stature to his advantage, concealing himself behind the screen that Joe, Fred, Sandy Roth, and other members of the company made. There was plenty to talk about; namely, the picture. And also, the picture. But now he was bored of talking about the picture and this positive funeral march that they were playing wasn’t helping matters. Although Sacramento was rumored to be open, the hotel was pretending tonight that it was dry and he regretted leaving his flask in his room, but they were feting Buster after all and it would have been rude not to be fully present for every single excruciating second.

Still.

“Think they’ll notice if their esteemed guest goes AWOL?” he said to Fred.

Fred laughed. “Count on it.”

Buster pulled his packet of cigarettes out of his slacks pocket, pinched one out, struck a match, and lit it. He didn’t like crowds of people he didn’t know or being expected to care about Sacramento’s economic situation, whether Coolidge was to be president again, and what was to be done about the decline of morals in young people. He especially didn’t like airs and this crowd had plenty. The truth was, he’d been made to do very few things in his charmed life, fewer still as he’d become a bona fide star, and his tolerance for formalities was at an all-time low. They were much more Nate’s speed. With her at his side at these functions, he never had to do more than answer the usual stupid questions (“Do you ever smile?”; “Do your pratfalls hurt?”) before Nate filled the uncomfortable silence with gay chatter and put the questioner at their ease.

Unlike with The General , however, Natalie had expressed no desire to be on location during the filming of Steamboat . He liked to think it was because she couldn’t bear to be away from her magnificent Villa for very long, but he had a sneaking suspicion her absence had simply to do with the fact that she didn’t care to be around him any longer.

“At least one more hour,” Joe said. “Then you can go back to your room and cut loose if that’s what you want.”

Behind Sandy, Buster spotted a man and his wife encroaching.

“Excuse me,” said the man, tapping Sandy on the shoulder. “My wife’s an awful big fan of Mr. Keaton and I was just wondering if we could introduce ourselves for a minute.”

Taking a deep drag from the cigarette and blowing the smoke out in such a way that it temporarily obscured his face, Buster looked at the woman and said, “I never smile and the pratfalls don’t hurt.”

She looked shocked. “How did you know what I was going to say?”

“Hi.”

Nelly startled just as badly as she had when Buster had crept up on her a few days prior. She knew the voice wasn’t his, though, even before she looked over her shoulder and found herself locking eyes with Tommy, the blonde-haired workman.

“Hi yourself,” she said, turning around and smoothing down the skirt of her dress. She’d been going through a jumble of skeleton keys in one of the smaller rooms in the prop house.

Tommy was extraordinarily tall, almost sequoia-sized. He leaned against shelves. “How’d you like to go to a blind tiger tonight?” he said, without preamble. “A few of the fellows and I are going. We invited Mr. Bert. Oh, and Buster too.”

Buster, she thought, accustomed as he was to rubbing elbows with the upper crust, was not going to attend this rustic soirée, but she didn’t want to puncture Tommy’s evident pride at the scheme. She had never been to a blind pig, a blind tiger, a blind anything. She and some girlfriends would pass around hooch some Saturday nights back in Evanston, but she’d never actually drunk alcohol in an establishment. So naturally she said, “What time?”

Tommy grinned. “Oh, we were thinking maybe seven o’clock or something.”

She knew that Sacramento wasn’t as dry as other cities, but she paused to consider whether this was such a good idea nonetheless. A brief flash of the place being raided by police and her getting carted off to jail and losing her gig on the film occurred. The sybaritic part of her threw the doubts aside. Her decision was only strengthened by Bert, who came through the prop house doors.

“This jackass bothering you?” he teased, craning his head to look up at Tommy.

“I invited her to the party tonight,” Tommy said.

“What makes you think she’d go with the likes of you? She has taste, y’know,” said Bert.

“What makes you think I have taste?” Nelly said, making both men laugh. When the laughter died away, she said, “Sure. Where?”

Tommy told her it was on 2nd Avenue next to a Chinese laundry. By day, it masqueraded as a five- and ten-cent store. “One of the bricks is painted a sort of yellow,” he said. “Just the one, though. There’s a side door off the alley. Knock four times.”

It all sounded so alluring and mysterious that Nelly couldn’t wait.

A quarter past the appointed hour, Joe dropped her off in front of the store. She expected it to have a dingy air, but it looked perfectly clean and presentable, not at all the sort of place that would draw attention. Joe waited for her as she crept into the alley, feeling her heart race with the illicitness of it all and the promise of seeing Tommy again. She gave three rhythmic knocks. A man in a tweed cap whom she vaguely recognized opened the door and she waved to Joe to let him know it was okay to drive off before she stepped into the tiger’s den.

There were slightly more than a dozen men crowded into the place, which was an apartment at the back of the store consisting of one main room, a water closet, and a couple doors that appeared to belong to bedrooms or closets. Everything from the stove to the sofa was in the main room. An old gramophone in the corner played ragtime jazz. She knew at once that Buster would not be coming. The set-up and the company were far too humble and she wondered if she’d made an error in judgement showing up. She was the only girl in sight and overdressed in nylon stockings and her best black dress with the belt. She felt ill at ease until she saw Bert and Tommy. Bert was in conversation with one of the men who was frequently in and out of the prop house. Tommy was standing near a bar, behind which stood various libations.

“Nelly!” he cried, striding toward her. His eyes crinkled and he looked ecstatic to see her. “C’mon, come pick your poison.”

He put his arm around her shoulders and led her to the bar. Bottles lining the shelves behind it contained liquors of light ambers, deep browns, and clear silvers. There were even bottles of beer, not near beer, but real beer. She’d never seen so much booze in her life. She selected a bottle of beer. Tommy didn’t take his arm away immediately. It was heavy and he smelled good, woollen and mannish. She tilted the bottle back to her lips, feeling as though she was in good hands. It didn’t take long before she was warm and happy.

Tommy conversed with the other men about the week’s events on the set—one man had nearly lost a finger sawing a board, another had given himself a good electric shock from a wire—and talked a good deal about a poker game he had recently won $100 in. She and Bert spoke for a while, mostly about work and what they expected shooting to look like next week. When her beer bottle was empty, Tommy slid a generous glass of bourbon into her hand. It stung going down in a way she didn’t quite care for, but as she got warmer still, she became used to it. About an hour or so into the party, Tommy’s hand crept around her waist and she didn’t mind a single bit. He talked to her about his childhood in Indiana and how he’d trap raccoons for fur to bring in money for the family. With his height and looks, she figured he was trying to break into pictures too, but it transpired that he thought he’d make his real fortune as a high-stakes poker player. The ambition seemed a little silly, but she wasn’t one to trod on other people’s dreams.

“Let’s dance,” he said, bending down to yell it in her ear over the conversation. The man who was in charge of the gramophone put on a song of medium speed in which a guitar plunked quietly in the background and a clarinet and trumpet took turns in the foreground. They danced in a small circle around the room and she had to crane her neck when he talked.

They were three songs in when a workman in his fifties approached. He was missing several bottom front teeth. “Here.” He pushed a small glass of something clear in her hands.

“What is it?” she said, laughing.

“Gin.”

“I’ve never had gin before,” she said.

“Never had gin before?” Tommy said, holding her at arm’s length in mock incredulity.

She giggled and shook her head, trying to keep the glass steady as he pulled her back under her shoulder. She sipped and there was that sting again, this time tasting like Christmas trees.

“No, you don’t sip it,” said the workman. “You swallow it down all at once.”

He and Tommy watched as she gamely tilted the drink to her lips and disappeared the gin down in one gulp. She gasped, wrinkling her nose as they laughed uproariously. “That was awful!”

“Try this one,” said another workman, younger and heavier. He extended a rocks glass containing a chestnut brown liquor. “Whiskey.”

She sipped and contorted her face. This was the worst one yet. “I’ll take my time,” she promised, setting it on a nearby table.

It didn’t take long before she was warmer and looser and gayer than she’d ever felt. Tommy passed her into the arms of the toothless workman. To her surprise, he was an incredible dancer and they did a foxtrot around the room to the next song, winning the applause of the other men. Bert took the next dance and they attempted a tango, but the music wasn’t the right tempo and they couldn’t stay in step. She was having the time of her life. She reached for the whiskey and barely noticed the sting as it went down.

Tommy took her back and someone put “Steamboat Bill” on the Victrola, which caused everyone to erupt into laughter.

Oh, Steamboat Bill, steaming down the Mississippi.

Steamboat Bill, a mighty man was he.

Steamboat Bill, steaming down the Mississippi.

Going to beat the record of the Robert E. Lee!

She grinned, hot and breathless. Tommy’s big hand on her waist was beginning to feel more and more exhilarating. She began to entertain thoughts of asking him to slip out into the alley with her, but whenever a song ended, another workman was waiting with a drink or a request for a dance. At some point, the fat workman stole her away from Tommy and tried the Turkey Trot with her, but her feet were no longer cooperating. She was thirsty, but the only thing available to quench her thirst was beer.

She became dimly aware that her head and limbs had turned clumsy and heavy and she had completely lost track of time. It didn’t worry her. She was young and could dance and drink all night if she wanted.

(Image source.)

#Buster Keaton #Silent Film #Golden Age Hollywood #Silent Movie Stars #RPF #Actor RPF #Real Person Fiction #Roaring Twenties #1920s #1920s Film

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eleanorblue · 4 years ago

Text

I had a very frightening experience this evening.

Content Warning for...I don’t know. Nothing actually HAPPENED, I’m FINE, but a crazy guy followed me into my building and threatened me.

I was walking home at like 6:30. I’d gone on a walk, which I do frequently. I live in a safe area—it’s busy and it’s by a hospital so there’s a fair amount of security. There are people to watch out for, definitely, but they generally keep to themselves—especially in broad daylight.

I was walking up to my building. There were people out, but it wasn’t crowded per se. There are stairs that go down to the entrance from the sidewalk and I was maybe four feet from the entrance. I had my AirPods in and I was listening to music—Wait For It, from Hamilton.

I dropped my keys.

There was a guy a little bit ahead of me walking towards me. I noticed him in some corner of my brain as a “Person To Keep An Eye On” but there are many people to keep an eye on as I said, so I didn’t pay him that much attention. But when I dropped my keys and picked them up he zeroed in on me and started yelling. “Hey! Can I have a cigarette? Do you have a cigarette? Do you have money for a cigarette?”

I ignored him because that’s what you do when someone starts yelling at you on the street. You ignore them and they generally give up and leave you alone. I went down the steps, used the fob to unlock the door, and entered the lobby of my building. I got about six steps inside when I realized something.

The Guy hadn’t given up. He’d followed me and was now inside my building, right fucking there behind me.

Somehow I didn’t immediately realize the danger of the situation—partially because the doorman was there so there was some form of security, and partially because everything was happening so fast. So after I made eye contact with The Guy, I just...kept walking, quickly, towards the elevators.

But once I acknowledged The Guy by making eye contact with him, he flipped out. He was kind of incoherent so I couldn’t quite tell everything he said but...he was pissed. He called me a bitch, said I was horrible, said something like “this is the kind of respect I get from women!”, and then yelled that he’d wait outside the building and “get me” the next time I came out.

The doorman—thank god the doorman was there, thank fucking god—was having none of this. He started yelling at The Guy to calm down and get out. Once he stood up and started walking towards The Guy, The Guy hightailed it out of the building, challenged a bystander (more on him later) to a fight, then ran down the street.

The doorman asked if I was okay. I said I was—he hadn’t touched me, and honestly I still wasn’t feeling much fear. When The Guy said he’d wait outside the building my first thought was: “yeah right. that’s not going to happen.” I was in shock, I think.

Then I went upstairs and holy macaroni, the adrenaline kicked in. My heart started pounding, my hands shook so hard I could barely unlock my door—I was a mess. I thought about how close The Guy had been and what would have happened if he’d gotten in between me and the door or what would have happened had the doorman not been there.

It was odd. In the situation I hadn’t really realized how scary and dangerous it was. Afterwards, I was terrified. I also kept thinking about what The Guy said about waiting for me. I still didn’t think it was likely, but...I kept thinking, what if he saw me again? What would he do?

I called my mom and panicked and cried and felt very silly for doing so, because again: he didn’t actually touch me! nothing actually happened! I AM FINE! They told me to file a police report, and I didn’t want to because I thought it was pointless, but they ultimately convinced me to call 911. They said they’d send an officer out and I thought “yeah right. this is a Big City, they don’t have time to investigate things when someone is no longer in danger/no one was injured.”

(My mother also reminded me to feed the cat, which was a good catch on her part. I was so frazzled I couldn’t figure out why Osiris kept yelling at me.)

I went back downstairs to tell the doorman that the police were coming. He was chatting to the bystander from earlier, who also apparently lives in the building. He’d been sitting in his car when he saw The Guy come up to me and start yelling, so he had gotten out of his car and was coming to help when the doorman kicked The Guy out. That’s when The Guy challenged him to a fight, but he obviously said “uh no thanks” and The Guy left.

The bystander and the doorman were very excited by now. They’d had a surge of adrenaline too and we’re going on about how The Guy was on drugs, he was crazy, he probably wouldn’t come back. They kept rehashing the incident to each other and going back and forth about how crazy The Guy was. I thanked them both and went upstairs again.

I called my mother back and talked to her as I tried to calm down. But I couldn’t. The phrase “I’m so scared” kept floating through my mind, followed by a whole lot of guilt and shame. After all, NOTHING HAD ACTUALLY HAPPENED. I was SAFE and if this is the worst thing that happens to me in the city, then I’m doing pretty okay! And maybe this wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t dropped my keys...or if I’d been faster...or if I’d come home five minutes earlier...or if I’d slammed the door behind me...

My mother is a clinical psychologist. She kept telling me it wasn’t my fault, that everything I was feeling was normal, that it was okay to be scared. And logically I knew what she was saying was true. But I couldn’t believe it.

Suddenly, my ex-boyfriend called. “Are you okay? What happened? Are you hurt?” What? I hadn’t told him anything. Two seconds later the doorman called to tell me the police were here. I told my ex I had to go, but I was fine, and I went downstairs.

(Later I figured out what had happened. My ex used to live here but moved out before we broke up. When the police arrived, the doorman called the first phone number associated with our unit, which happened to be his. My ex answered and they asked if he was with Ella, as the police were here. He said no and asked what happened, and the doorman said “some guy followed her into the building” and then hung up. Naturally, he was very worried and called me immediately.)

I filed a police report, had a minor internal conflict about the police in general and filing a police report on someone who may have been mentally ill, reminded myself that it is okay to call the police when someone threatens to “get you” and follows you into your building!!!!!! and went back upstairs. And then I felt SIGNIFICANTLY better, I suppose because I had Done Something and didn’t feel as powerless as I had earlier.

I called my ex back and explained what had happened. He was very concerned at first and then updated me on all of the intricate dramas of his life, so, okay. I called my mother back and updated her. She went to bed. I went to make dinner.

But even though I felt (and feel) so much better than I did in the first hour after it happened...there’s still something off. My executive functioning is shot all to hell. I didn’t manage to make dinner until 10:30 pm—not because I was busy, but because starting each task took a Herculean effort. I keep doing things in the wrong order—I put the pot on the stove before adding water somehow, and I unloaded the dishwasher in the middle of slicing an apple. Earlier, when I was buying more pepper gel (mine is EXPIRED), I typed it into Youtube instead of Amazon. Shockingly, that didn’t yield the results I was looking for.

And now I’m lying in bed, and it’s nearly one in the morning. Osiris is curled up on my feet like he always is. I’m exhausted. But I can’t sleep.

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chinatea · 5 years ago

Text

BG/SG/DI, two twin witches + one bear cub.

Diminie -> Jisoo.

Baby G -> Jiyeon.

Seagull -> Jungkook (goes nameless in Part 1).

(This fic is like a feel good pill for me. Hope you’ll enjoy it as well.)

<<<<Part 1 >>>>

Jisoo likes waking up early.

He also likes staying nestled under the quilted blankets for a hot minute as the ambiance of their room whispers in the quiet, punctuated by the cute little noises his brother makes in his sleep.

Jiyeon is not an early riser, but once he’s awake, he doesn’t stay in bed much longer - up and running for his big mug of coffee to jumpstart his day full of bustling activity.

With a self-indulgent yawn, Jisoo props himself up on one elbow, peeking behind the curtain where the outside world greets him with the promise of a fine day. And Jisoo believes that any day can be a fine day as long as one welcomes it with an open heart.

He lets the curtain fall back and rolls onto his other side to press a soft kiss to the crown of Jiyeon’s head. His brother whimpers, wiggling deeper under the covers and making Jisoo giggle fondly at his cuteness - Jiyeon would be the first to complain if Jisoo didn’t kiss him first thing in the morning.

Next, he gingerly crawls over Jiyeon’s sleeping form to get off their bed. As his feet touch the floor, his toes immediately curl into the fluffy carpet that purrs in response like a house cat, shooting a boost of energy up his feet.

The sleeping area is separated from the rest of the bedroom by a night veil. Delicate as a gossamer and with a dark blue shimmer to it, it muffles all noises and dims all lights, keeping even the nasty nightmares at bay. Jisoo slips right through, barely disturbing it, as he steps into the other half of the room bathed in the vibrancy of the morning light.

Their house is an enchanted place, ever changing, molding itself constantly to meet the needs of its two owners. Sometimes it can be a touch unpredictable even, Jisoo thinks as he patters his way through the open inner court that somehow became bestrewn with evergreen pines just overnight. The mist is rolling gently over the needle-littered floor while a bird warbles among the branches up above and perhaps that’s not the worst thing to encounter on one’s way to the washroom.

Albeit it wouldn’t be accurate to call it a wash-room, per se. Not anymore. Not since Jiyeon decided that he likes taking long baths while enjoying the unobstructed view of Mother Nature. So, their wash-room is an honest-to-gods hot spring now.

And Jisoo remains largely un-sold on the idea, but at least now it’s close to the kitchen, so when he is done splashing spring-fresh water onto his face, he heads there for breakfast.

As usual, plates are crowding every single surface in sight, carrying too much food for both of them to finish in a month. Their house spirit has yet to warm up to the idea of moderation, always going the whole hog. Yet, there is a lot of freedom in the way the spirit runs their household and Jisoo would be loath to take that away - it’s simply the spirit’s way of taking care of them and that goes both ways. Besides, he gets to try something new almost every day and the foodie in him can’t say no to a scrumptious meal.

“It’d be nice to have breakfast outside today. Maybe under the pergola?” Jisoo says, popping a plump raspberry into his mouth.

“Oh, and leave a basin with spring water for Jiyeon in the bedroom. Room temperature. Generously sprinkled with lavender petals, please. He likes the scent.”

Before he makes his way outside, he lingers in front of a bookcase, running his fingers over the colorful book spines. He likes reading in the morning when it’s quiet and cozy, although he’s not good at keeping track of the books he's been reading - they always tend to vanish from wherever he’d left them, so he picks something new pretty much every morning. He is not too fussy about what to read as long as it’s about romance. Or gardening. Or both.

A book pokes out, practically jumping into his hands, courtesy of the house spirit, and with a quiet ‘Thank you’, Jisoo makes for the door leading into the garden - his absolute favorite place to dally.

The garden is still very much work in progress as Jisoo likes working on it with his own two hands, mostly magic-free. Which baffles Jiyeon to no end. Ideally one would employ the services of a garden spirit who would do an outstanding job. And Jisoo agrees - that would have been so much easier. Kicking back and letting the professional do the work. Yet, he likes pottering about their plot, despite the many mishaps and frustrations that come with it. Maybe he is just being weird. Jiyeon certainly thinks so.

Still there’s something extremely satisfying about lolling around in the dappled light from the pergola, gazing over at the fruits of his labor - lavender, pot marigolds and coneflowers, all thriving in perfect union. Pretty as they can be.

Jisoo expects nothing out of the ordinary when he settles down with his tea, a buttery toast and the book - “Friendly Spirits of the Forest and Where to Find Them”. He will read until Jiyeon sashays out of the house and demands Jisoo make him a toast. And as he nibbles on his toast, they take the time to catch up on their correspondence as well as the latest witchy gossip from town.

The serenity of the morning is shuttered, however, by the clutter of plates. Nose tucked into his book, Jisoo startles, eyes darting to the cloth-draped summer table by the rose bushes. For a moment, he sees nothing that could have caused the ruckus until a little paw sneaks its way from under the table to snatch a heapful of fluffy pancakes from a plate.

Jisoo is gobsmacked for a moment, at a loss for what to do. It seems impossible that someone would be able to slink in without alerting them in one way or another. Either the house spirit must have let the intruder in or...something else entirely. And even if the creature has no ill intent (aside from nicking a few pancakes), he finds the very thought troubling indeed.

This is supposed to be their little haven, his and Jiyeon’s, away from everybody else.

With the book still pressed to his chest, Jisoo tiptoes around the table, wanting to take a good look at their guest before anything else.

He finds them easily, under the table, as the creature looks up at him, mid-munch, with a mouth full of pancake. Jisoo recognizes them as a wood spirit, still in his cubhood. The poor thing looks tiny and unkempt, perhaps stumbling upon their place in search of food.

For a moment, they simply stare at each other in mutual appraisal until the spirit seems to lose any interest in Jisoo, reaching out for a raisin pound cake from the food pile between his legs and stuffing it into their mouth, none-too-graceful. Jisoo takes it as his cue to approach him, crouching down to inspect his features in detail.

The book pokes him, stealing his attention momentarily, before opening up in a wild swirl of pages.

Bear spirit, the page reads.

There is a whimsical drawing of a bear napping under a berry bush and Jisoo inspects it for a moment before allowing his gaze to flit back to the spirit at hand. He certainly looks more like a human than a bear, although their facial features are definitely straddling that line. Is that a nose or an animal snout? That has yet to be decided.

Curious, Jisoo thinks. Could it be because this one is just a cub?

“Hello,” he says gently, addressing the spirit for the first time. “You’ve got a bit of jam there, little one, let me get it for you.”

Jisoo whips out his pristine handkerchief to reach out and dab around the cub’s mouth. When he doesn’t pounce or growl or show any signs of hostility, Jisoo takes his paw into his hand and beckons him from under the table. Obediently, the spirit toddles along, fingers stuck in his mouth, sucking the last of the sweetness off it.

Jiyeon glides into the room in his usual fluttery fashion, his trip to the coffee pot running smoothly even after he spots the cub poking a plant in the corner.

Few things can interrupt him on his way to coffee and seeing a new face in their cozy kitchen is not one of them, it seems.

“And here I thought we had a no-pet policy,” he remarks, however, after a careful sip.

Jisoo spreads apricot jam on a toast before handing it to Jiyeon.

“That’s a spirit, actually,” Jisoo chirps, plopping the book in front of Jiyeon. “Look.”

“A bear spirit?” Jiyeon peeks over his cup. “Oh dear. Aren’t they supposed to be asleep this time of year?”

“It’s the middle of the summer, Mimi,” Jisoo says. “Don’t be silly. Besides, it’s a bear spirit not a bear, they’re not the same, I don’t think.”

“Whatever,” Jiyeon pouts, biting into his toast.

The bear spirit in question ambles closer, reaching on his tippy toes to hook his chin over the table edge. Jisoo props up the book to let them see the drawing.

“Hadly a spitting image,” Jiyeon comments sourly. “Are you sure that’s what it is?”

Jisoo sighs - he has no idea. Neither of them have met a spirit like this before. Most of them dwell deeper in the woods, wary of any contact with people.

The spirit inches towards Jiyeon, eyes like two dark chocolate candies trained on his toast. The sneaky invasion doesn’t escape Jiyeon’s attention as he squints at the cub skeptically, his upper lip raised to show a sliver of teeth, before offering him the crust of his toast.

The cub sniffs at it. Then, curiously licks Jiyeon’s finger instead. His brother squeaks.

“He licked me!”

“You had jam smeared on it,” Jisoo says. “He seems to like sweet things.”

“Oh, I know I’m a sweet thing, but you better keep it in your mouth, mister,” Jiyeon complains with a wiggle of his finger - the cub pouts, slipping under the table with a grumpy babble.

“Touchy,” Jiyeon tsks, smiling impishly.

Jisoo masks his giggle with a cough, settling into a chair to dig deeper into the book for answers.

“You know,” he speaks up, some time later. “I think he’s been here all along. That’s why the house spirit never alerted us about the intruder.”

“Excuse me?” Jiyeon looks up from his morning newspaper, perfect eyebrows drawn in frown.

“Well, it says here they adapt to mimic the creatures in their surroundings. And we’re the only ones here. I mean, there must be a reason he looks so human, right?”

“Well now. That’s unsettling,” Jiyeon huffs, legs crossed, his slipper balancing on his toe.

“What, is he like a chameleon or something? Just wait until he starts matching the color of our hideous couch pillows, and we’ll never find the wretched thing. He already thinks he owns the Undertable.”

As if on cue, the cub sneaks from the Undertable to smack the slipper off Jiyeon’s foot, lobbing the fluffy thing high in the air.

Jiyeon shrieks and curses up a storm and Jisoo thinks his face might start hurting by the end of today from too much laughter.

The water in the bathtub has to be changed three times before it stops turning the color of dirt. To think that all of it came off the tiny cub is kind of gross, or so Jiyeon dramatically claims before being chased in circles around the tub by the said cub, squeaky clean now and naked as the day he was born.

Jiyeon is shrieking at the top of his lungs. In other words, he’s enjoying himself.

Jisoo steps in-between the two, catching the cub into a fluffy towel and swaddling him into a pancake. The cub does not protest, peacefully handing himself over to Jisoo’s care - he seems to be more willing to behave around Jisoo compared to his brother. He wonders if the cub is more wary of him as he combs through the mop of the thick dark hair with two bear-like ears unfurling their way to freedom.

Jiyeon coos and calls them “little saucers”, playfully flicking one and then the other. The cub butts him lightly, nuzzling into his tummy with a series of warbling noises.

It’s like he is getting cuter by the moment.

Later, Jisoo fetches a plate with crispy waffles with a sludge of raspberry syrup poured on top. The cub sniffs at it, nose twitching, before snagging a few in one bite. He barely chews. The glitter of buttons on Jiyeon’s gown pulls at his attention and he plays with them for a while, the witch giggling and booping his big nose.

“He’s kinda cute though,” he says. “I suppose we could spare a bathroom mat for him to sleep on.”

Jisoo gives him a look.

“What?” Jiyeon asks innocently. “It’s extra fluffy. I’ll even lend him your old baby blanket. Don’t say I’m not a giver.”

“He’ll easily fit between us, Mimi,” Jisoo coos. “Won’t you, baby cub?”

“Absolutely not,” Jiyeon protests, long earrings tinkling. “I like my space. I like to sleep spreadeagled, you know that.”

“You never do that, Mimi.”

“But I could!”

“You curl into a ball like a little kitten and then complain until I spoon you from behind.”

Jiyeon harrumphs, objections put on hold for now, as he gets busy arranging hair clips into the cub’s hair.

End of part 1.

In Part 2, JK is going to get a bit older and we’ll learn more about the twin’s daily routine.

(The romantic stuff will kick off in part 3, I think.)

#jikook au #personas au

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pitterpatterpot · 5 years ago

Text

Lion’s Pride: Chapter Twenty-Five

Aedion breathes out a puff of breath, eyes squinting as he looks down at the braid in his hand, fine strands of red hair slipping between his fingers. He smiles in victory as he finishes off the final twining of hair, snapping a band into place with a flourish.

"Aedion," Evangeline tuts, "it's hair, not a battle."

The General of the Bane raises his brows, admiring the fishtail braid that now sits on the young girls shoulder. "It's a fine braid worthy of the same glory as any battle."

Evangeline snorts, still focusing on the braid in her own hands. "You're so silly sometimes."

"Oh no, gods forbid I make you smile."

Snorting with a small laugh, Evangeline finishes her braid with a tie. “You’re done, Jolene.”

The girl in front of Evangeline grins in delight, hopping off the edge of the fountain to join a group of children covering the ground in chalk. Aedion watches her go with a fond smile, standing himself and extending a hand to Evangeline. He pulls her up, laughing as he nearly lifts her off her feet, Evangeline immediately scowling yet laughing.

“Why don’t you get braids?” Evangeline hums, narrowing her eyes at Aedion’s loose hair.

“Because you all always pull at it,” Aedion scowls, watching a ball fly between a group of kids. “Don’t look at me like that. You do.”

“Right,” Evangeline rolls her eyes, fingering the end of her braid. “I forgot how sensitive you are.”

“You know, it wasn’t that long ago I defeated a certain little thing called a valg prince.”

“It also wasn’t too long ago that you spent three days searching for Gavriel’s cat,” Evangeline raises a brow.

Aedion scowls playfully, tugging gently on her hair. “He was upset. And in case I forgot, you also searched under every bed in the palace.”

Giggling, Evangeline ducks away from his hands. “All right! So maybe I did.”

“We should just be thankful Lysandra and Aelin have gone for the weekend,” Aedion mutters, narrowing his eyes against the sun. “They would have had a field day searching.”

“Aelin would have put the whole staff on it.”

“And Lysandra would have spent all day in ghost leopard form sniffing around.”

They both smirk, a humorous glint in their eyes. It only grows when a ball rolls over to them, both their brows flicking up as a group of kids watch them. Aedion grins, as does Evangeline.

They both dive for the ball.

Evangeline cries in delight as the top of her boot manages to hit the ball the same time Aedion’s foot does, the object flying towards the children. The two of them run after it, and after a minute of shock the street quickly divides into teams of two. Evangeline grins as a child passes the ball to her, quickly ducking under Aedion’s arm to kick it between two boxes that have been set up as the goal. Aedion groans dramatically as the score lands, everyone laughing and clapping along as he circles around and hoists Evangeline up into his arms, the young woman screaming with laughter and pounding on his back.

“Aedion, you brute!” Evangeline cackles, face flushing. “Put me down!”

“Oh, I can’t do that,” Aedion gasps, spinning, Evangeline thrown over his shoulder. “I’m too sensitive, remember? I need constant attention.”

A loud snorting laughter comes from Evangeline. “I’m sorry! Aedion, I’m going to be sick!”

“Sick, you say?” Aedion cackles, pausing in the spinning. “Well, isn’t that unfortunate.”

“I’ll tell Lysandra about this!” Evangeline tugs the end of his shirt, face turning red, a grin still in place.

Aedion hums, jumping in place. “And I’ll tell them all about that little prank you pulled.”

“It wasn’t that bad!”

“Cold oatmeal in my socks!”

“You put black powder in my dresses!”

Barking a laugh, Aedion spins again, the surrounding children laughing. It became a common occurrence for the court to leave the castle and spend time with the children in the city square, dazzling them with magic and games. The entire ordeal had grown from the morning training sessions with young adults, Aedion quickly befriending the youth with his roguish ways and lack of strict etiquette. Aelin was quick to join, surprised to see that Gavriel had grown close to many of the parents who watch on as everyone plays.

There was a rough moment when Lysandra turned into a ghost leopard. Turns out that when you loose an uncle to a pack you become fearful that the same thing will happen to your child. Luckily, Aedion managed to wrestle the hunting spear away.

Now Lysandra only turns into less fearful creatures around the children. Much to their disappointment.

“Alright,” Evangeline huffs, voice thick. “Aedion, I need to be put down. I don’t feel well.”

He immediately slips her off his shoulder, Aedion frowning as he takes Evangeline in. At the flush on her face and sweat beading on her upper lip, a hand pressed against her lower stomach.

“Are you alright?” Aedion murmurs lowly. “You’re pale.”

“I just feel a little ill,” Evangeline sucks in a slow breath.

“Let’s stop for a moment,” Aedion suggests gently. “We can… Evangeline, are you alright?”

A new shade of pale has overtaken the young adults face. “We need to go home, please.”

Aedion’s brows furrow, and he begins to ask. Then stops at the smell suddenly hitting his fae nose, his eyes widening in understanding. He gently takes her arm and moves her to the back of a public restroom, the area quiet compared to the buzz of the square.

“Aedion,” Evangeline looks around. “What are we-“

“Hold on,” Aedion stops behind a wall.

He shrugs off his jacket, dropping it to the floor before taking off his shirt. He rips off the left long sleeve in one fluid movement, handing the strip of fabric to Evangeline, her eyes wide.

“Aedion,” she hisses, eyes darting around. “What are you-“

“No one will notice with my jacket on,” Aedion murmurs, nodding to the bathroom. “You can use this until we get to the palace and find you something more suitable.”

Nodding, Evangeline ducks into the stall as Aedion steps away and places his shirt and jacket back on, taking a moment to hum at the strange feeling of one sleeve being missing. Breezy.

It’s also a nice distraction from the entire situation.

The stall door creaks open and Evangeline walks out, back straight. Aedion nods and they immediately set down the streets, going through the back alley ways to avoid the crowds and citizens that would no doubt love to stop and chat. They make it just over halfway before Evangeline stops, bending over and groaning. Aedion stops in alarm, looking to where she’s sat down, arms wrapped around her stomach and body curled over. He immediately sits beside her.

“Sit up, air will make you feel better,” Aedion suggests gently, pulling out a flask. “Here’s some water. If you straighten out it’ll help you to-“

“Aedion,” Evangeline grits out, taking the water. “How do you know so much about this?”

“I read a book.”

“A book?”

He shrugs. “I wanted to help. And Lysandra did some explaining.”

Evangeline stares, slowly turning bright red as she looks down at her feet.

“I love you,” Evangeline murmurs.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” Aedion pulls her close, giving a squeeze. “Do you feel alright to walk? Or would you like a ride on my back?”

“Ride,” Evangeline immediately perks up, eyes sparking in interest. “Definitely.”

“I get the feeling that you’re taking advantage of the situation,” Aedion smiles in relief, turning around. “Come on. Order me around as you like.”

Laughing, Evangeline climbs on, cackling as Aedion breaks into an immediately jog.

~~~

“So, are you alright?” Aedion asks, handing Evangeline a cold glass of water.

“Yes, thank you,” Evangeline eagerly accepts the glass, sitting on the edge of the stool in the kitchen.

“The tea didn’t work?”

“The warmth just made the hot flush feel worse,” Evangeline glowers at the cup to the side. “It was a disappointment.”

“Of the highest degree.”

“The audacity was outstanding.”

“It shall never be served again.”

A lull takes over their bantering, the two stirring and looking into their respective drinks. The clock ticks in the corner, the only abruption to the comfortable silence between them.

“Aedion?” Evangeline sips her water.

“Yes?” Aedion looks up from the sink.

“Can I still play with you and the other children in the square? And train?”

Frowning, Aedion places his cup down. “Of course. Why?”

Shrugging, Evangeline taps the rim of her glass. “Everyone’s trying to teach my to be a lady. That seems to mean no rough activity.”

Aedion snorts. “Sweetheart, you have met the females of our family, yes? I’ve had my ass handed to me by them more than once.”

“I know,” Evangeline scowls, the look vicious instead of playful. “Other ladies in waiting and court children annoy me.”

Immediately, Aedion perks up, narrowing his eyes in anger. “How so?”

“They make fun of me for being covered in mud after training,” Evangeline scoffs, sipping her drink. “They think it’s strange that I play with animals and children outside the castle.”

“Is this when all the lords and ladies visited with their children last month?”

“Yes,” colour stains Evangeline’s cheeks, her eyes darting away. “…I threw mud on one of them.”

That causes a loud barking laugh, Aedion’s bellowing prompting Evangeline to laugh as well. They snicker to themselves, erupting again when they catch each other’s eye.

“Who did you hit?”

“The daughter of the lord of Suria. She said I acted like a boar in a dress.”

Aedion’s laughter cuts off, a growl taking place. It’s audacious, unbelievable on such an extreme level that anyone would be foolish enough to turn up their noses at the young woman sitting in front of him. It borders on insanity to think that they could even begin to get away with saying such a remark. And not because of the threat that Lysandra, Aedion and the rest of the court poses. Oh no.

They should very well fear Evangeline herself.

“What did you do?” Aedion asks, voice a rough growl.

At that a wicked smile takes place on Evangeline’s face. “We were in the gardens, so I went to the stables, grabbed a handful of sludge, stomped back and flung it so it hit her in the chest. She screeched like a banshee.”

Chuckling, Aedion knocks her shoulder. “That’s my girl. Listen to me, you’re allowed to be whatever you want to be. Biology is not the deciding factor of everything in life. If you want to keep training and get your ass kicked at ball games than you’re more than welcomed.”

That sparks something in her eyes, pride curdling in her stare. “Last I remembered, I kicked the winning goal in the last game.”

“Because that boy got in my way.”

“Because your defence was sloppy.”

So few people would ever dare say something like that to him. The love in his chest explodes.

“I promise things won’t change unless you will them to,” he promises, a tenderness weakening his form. “Although you may want to go to Lysandra about the… biological changes that…”

“Thank you, Aedion,” Evangeline’s voice cuts through his, as brisk as the flush on her cheeks. “We don’t need to talk about that.”

“Oh, thank the gods, because I really have no idea-“

“Alright-“

“-since war camps don’t really give an education on-“

“Oh my gods-“

“-I should actually read some books or ask Gavriel some questions, actually, I have a lot of gaps-“

“I’m going to bed!” Evangeline stands, chair scrapping back, glaring at Aedion’s smirk. “You are a horrible, horrible person.”

“Thank you, darling,” Aedion winks. “Do you want me to bring you anything? A warm bottle? Chocolate?”

At that she hesitates, eyeing him. “Chocolate would be nice.”

“I’ll bring it up with a concoction to help with the pain,” Aedion nods, smirk settling into a smile. “Let me know if there’s anything else.”

“I will,” Evangeline walks through the door, then pauses, angling her head back. “You know, since you’re having so much fun with all of this I think I should mention to Gavriel that you need a little talk.”

All colour drains from the males face, a particular look of horror settling over his features. “You wouldn’t, you sly little-“

“I learn from the best,” Evangeline cackles, the door slamming shut after her.

~~~

“Just to be clear,” Lysandra murmurs to Aedion before they enter the dining hall, “you didn’t tell Evangeline that she can now call on adrenaline based strength while bleeding, yes?”

“That was Aelin,” Aedion snorts. “Although with the anger that comes with it I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s the case.”

“Ass,” Lysandra whacks his arm, smiling. “As if you’re anything but a sap.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” Aedion opens the entry way for her, “it’d ruin my reputation.”

“I doubt anything could do that,” Lysandra laughs, wrapping an arm around Aedion’s as they walk to the table. “My brave warrior.”

“You are in a good mood today,” he beams, kissing her as he pulls out her chair.

Lysandra hums, cheeks nearly dimpling with how strong her smile is. “How can I not be?”

Smiling at her gleeful expression, Aedion takes a moment to brush his hand against her shoulder, letting his calloused thumb run over the smooth skin before snagging slightly on a scar, tenderly following the jagged line down the slope of her shoulder as he sits. The look she sends him, filled with nothing but undeniable warmth, makes something deep settle within him. Being here, next to her, at the table with his loved ones is like some kind of balm to an inner injury he never knew he had. Some beast that is finally settled down to sleep.

“I love you,” he murmurs it, softly, his head tilted towards hers.

Those green eyes darken, and she whispers it back.

He melts. There’s no way to avoid it, the way he crumbled at her feet. It’s impossible for him to withstand her, not that he ever would. He finally turns back to the food, a small smile remaining as he begins to devour his meal. He ignores the gentle looks the rest of the court send their way,

“Gavriel,” something humorous enters Lysandra’s tone, sending a warning through Aedion’s system, “wasn’t there something you wanted to discuss with Aedion?”

His father’s brows raise, and he turns to look at his son. “Evangeline did mention something about a certain topic needing more details.”

Aedion’s eyes cut to the side and Lysandra’s wicked smile says it all.

The traitors.

~~~

“Just so we’re clear,” Gavriel eyes his son as they leave the dining hall, entering one of the many hallways, “you don’t need me to-“

“No.”

“So you know-“

“Yes.”

“Even about diseases and-“

“Yes!” Aedion hisses, a rare flush of colour taking over his face. “Gods, yes. You know, I was fairly sure Evangeline was bluffing.”

And there it is, a traitorous smile spreading across Gavriel’s face. “She thought you’d think that.”

Scoffing, Aedion jerks back. “You all have a terrible sense of humour. Just terrible.”

“I found it amusing,” Gavriel chuckles.

“You’re all twisted,” Aedion shakes his head. “Where are you heading?”

“I was hoping to talk to you, actually,” Gavriel concedes. “I was hoping to learn more about your childhood here in the palace. The good memories.”

Aedion blinks. “The good memories? I - alright. Why?”

Gavriel shrugs. “In truth, every time I imagine you as a child I see you as sad. I would like to be able to know that there were some light moments.”

“When Aelin was born I was extremely happy,” Aedion admits, the two of them beginning to walk towards the stables. “I enjoyed watching over her. More often then not I’d join her for make-shift tea parties and dinners.”

“Because the others were afraid of her,” Gavriel guesses.

“Both of us, actually,” Aedion snorts. “Like I’ve told you, my reputation for fighting with Ren gained me a ferocious title.”

Gavriel’s brows shoot up, a smile blooming. “Oh, I’m sure you were terrifying. I even heard you used to have freckles before they faded. How devious.”

A bright flush creeps up over Aedion’s face, the younger male glaring. “Who told you? And by the way, sarcasm isn’t a good look on you.”

“I disagree,” Gavriel chuckles. “And Aelin told me. I’m not surprised though, I used to have a light freckling when I was younger. You must have gained it from me.”

“Of course,” Aedion mutters, staring skywards for a moment. “Are you happy now? I was freckled and played with my cousin.”

“While that is an adorable image,” Gavriel says, amused at Aedion’s horror at the word, “I was actually asking for earlier memories. After all, what did you do when Aelin was a baby and unable to play? When you were very young?”

At that Aedion pauses, mind drawing a complete blank. Before he could play with Aelin? He’s already told Gavriel about how he and Ren used to be close as children, but that came later. Does he want to know about training? He’s already gained details of that. And Aelin has surely told him more than Aedion is likely comfortable with. But when Aedion first came to Terrasen? There was so much confusion. He had to learn names and go from being a child with his mother to a ward in training. There has to be something. Of course, trying to remember that far back through so many harsh memories is difficult. By the time they arrive at the stables, Gavriel patiently stroking a horse, Aedion is still at a loss as his father strokes the giant beasts.

Giant beasts.

Giant.

“I used to be afraid of horses.”

Aedion sucks in a breath after his rushed words, seemingly just as surprised by them as Gavriel is. His father looks at him in surprise and amusement, his expression morphing into one of concentration as he listens. Aedion clears his throat, the memory slowly seeping forward.

“When I first arrived,” Aedion begins slowly, piecing it together, “I was headstrong and stubborn - don’t give me that look - out of fear, I think. I wanted to prove I could be strong since everyone was talking about how I was to be a warrior. I tackled everything they gave me. Then…”

“Then?” Gavriel prompts.

“I had never seen a horse before,” Aedion realises slowly. “At least none as big as they have here in Terrasen. They look wilder and rougher. And I was, well, I was small.”

“You were five,” Gavriel’s smiles, “I’m sure you were very small.”

“Right,” Aedion winces. “So when the horse riding lessons came along I… Well, I think I yelled ‘no’ and ran away.”

A laugh bursts out of Gavriel, loud and guffawing before the Lion claps a hand over his mouth, turning it into a cough. “You ran?”

“And hid,” Aedion nods. “I remember now. I crawled into a small cupboard they couldn’t reach me in, yelling that I wouldn’t go near them. It took days for them to convince me to go near them.”

Shaking his head, Gavriel keeps a hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking.

“Is it really that amusing?” Aedion huffs, picking up a horse brush himself.

“It’s the image,” Gavriel sucks in a slow breath, “of a younger, smaller you just yelling ‘no’ at grown warriors over horses and running away.”

“I think I kicked Quinn in the chest when he tried to place me on one,” Aedion admits, rhythmically brushing the horse closest to him. “At least I think I did all that. It’s difficult to remember that far back.”

Chuckling, Gavriel picks up a brush himself. “It certainly sounds in character.”

“I’d make some smart comeback about you as a child,” Aedion snorts, “but no doubt you were perfect.”

“There may be some doubts about that,” Gavriel clears his throat. “In fact, when I was only a decade old I… My brothers convinced me to sneak out during the night with them.”

Aedion stares. “You did? You escaped the house at night?”

“I did,” Gavriel nods, huffing a small laugh. “It was the only time though. I was bored with how quickly distracted they were, their attention drawn away from me. I never really had any reason to rebel or kick up a fuss.”

“Oh, of course,” Aedion sighs. “The great Gavriel, above such childish squabbles. If only your offspring had followed suit.”

“I have no regrets with your stubborn nature, Aedion,” Gavriel wryly responds. “If anything, your determination is a key reason for your success. And I can hardly blame you for having your mother’s spirit.”

“It got me in plenty of trouble early on, don’t worry,” Aedion smirks. “By the way, why the stables?”

“Pardon?” Gavriel tilts his head.

“The stables. Why are we here?”

“I was simply following you,” Gavriel gestures to the area around them. “Weren’t we coming here for your story?”

“No, I thought I was following you,” Aedion confesses. “Not that I’m complaining. Darrow wants to meet with me today and I’d much rather be here right now than with that bastard.”

“At least he’s kind to Evangeline,” Gavriel sighs. “If I’m being honest it’s the only redeeming quality I can find about the man.”

“You are quite cold towards him,” Aedion admits. “I take great pleasure in watching it.”

“Could I join you in the meeting then?” Gavriel asks, placing down his brush. “I need to have a few words with the man myself anyway.”

“When you put it like that, yes,” Aedion grins. “You most definitely can.”

~~~

Aedion sits leisurely in the seat at Darrow’s desk, legs stretched out in front of him as he leans back. Gavriel stands by the doorway with his arms crossed, watching the entire interaction. Darrow, for his part, sits at the desk with his hands clasped in front of him, a twitching muscle in his cheek the only sign of his irritation.

None of them have said a word, each waiting for the other to initiate the conversation. Darrow appears to be near wits end, eyes darting between the two of them as he waits to be addressed.

And Aedion is, quite frankly, enjoying this.

Giving in, Darrow coughs into his fist. “I need to discuss your behaviour in the city.”

Aedion’s eyes narrow. “My behaviour?”

“In terms of your relations with the children,” Darrow nods. “It’s inappropriate for a prince and general of your standing to spend so much time playing games with the offspring of strangers. Not only that, but the fact that you encourage Evangeline to do the same.”

Iron carves into Aedion’s spine, his entire form rising in the chair. “Be very careful with what you say next, Darrow. It does Evangeline no harm to have friends near her own age.”

“I don’t disagree!” Darrow huffs. “I think it’s wonderful that she’s gaining connections with the people. Believe it or not, but I have no wish to see her miserable and alone. She’s delighted after the games in the square.”

“In that case, what is this entire conversation even about?” Aedion growls.

Shame seems to flicker over Darrow’s features before they harden once again. “It’s not Evangeline who they deem inappropriate to spend time with the children, Aedion.”

Something in his core freezes. Stiffens and curdles at the low temperatures that enter is stomach. He stares at Darrow, the man staring back, something akin to shame flickering in his eyes.

“Inappropriate?” Aedion’s voice sounds rough even to his own ears. “What do they think I’m going to do?”

“They believe you could be a… negative influence,” Darrow clears his throat. “Considering your history and reputation.”

“Reputation,” Aedion repeats.

“Not to mention your choice in relationships,” Darrow shuffles his papers.

“Relationships?” A white ocean of noise enters his ears.

“Aedion, I have no judgement on the matter,” Darrow looks away. “At least, not on that topic. While I do think it’s inappropriate for you to spend time in the square with children I see it based on your romantic orientation. Unfortunately, some parents do. Your past titles and actions as the ‘Whore of Adarlan’ don’t exactly help soothe their worries.”

And there is the anger, boiling, starting in the pit of his being and clawing its way up his throat. His hands curl into fists, Aedion leaning forward, every muscle in his body growing tense. Then confusion slowly takes place. Because while Darrow has grown pale, the colour leeching from his face as his scent screams terror, he isn’t looking at Aedion.

No, he’s looking over Aedion’s shoulder.

So, slowly, the Wolf of the North turn to look as well.

And his anger is swept away by…

Fear? No, it’s something more deep rooted than that. Those tawny gold eyes are dark, closer to the colour of bronze set on fire. And the very shape of his face, the way his lips are raised to show a flash of sharp teeth, suggests the brink of a shift into lion form. And all of that is directed towards Darrow.

“Aedion,” Gavriel’s voice sets a deeper tone, reverberating through the entire room, “leave the room.”

It’s a direct order, a room brooking no space for argument. Just like Gavriel had used when he found Aedion by the gate. But then Aedion had denied the order, snapping back at the demand of the Lion. He feels the sudden urge to do so now, the denial already leaving his lips in the form of a growl. Darrow’s eyes flick between them, the man pressing back in his seat as Aedion stares at his father.

“Like hell I am,” Aedion snarls, beginning to rise out of his chair. “I train those children! I protect them! If people are so fucking worried about me being a bad influence on them than they-“

“Aedion.”

The demi-fae pauses at the tone.

“Leave the room,” Gavriel repeats, slaking towards the desk. “I also had a meeting concerning a private matter.”

Aedion stares. Gavriel doesn’t look, eyes trained on Darrow. Slowly, Aedion stands. He can feel both males waiting for his actions. He walks towards the door, Darrow’s clear disbelief like a brand on his back. He clicks it shut behind him and leaves the hall.

~~~

Fenrys frowns from where he stands over papers with Rowan, looking towards the window. “Did you hear something?”

The king glances up. “No, I…”

“There, see?” Fenrys waves a hand. “It sounds like Gavriel.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing.”

~~~

“Darrow needs a new desk,” Gavriel dresses Aelin, standing in front of her work table.

She looks up in surprise, confusion flowing over. “Why?”

“I broke his.”

A silence stretches out. Aelin raises a brow.

“As in… you broke off a leg of the table and stabbed him with it?”

Startled, Gavriel jerks back. Gods, no! I’m not Rowan.”

Snickering, Aelin nods. “Alright then. So what happened?”

“I yelled at him and in the throes of my anger punched the table, causing it to split.”

“Let me get this straight,” Aelin breathes in deeply. “You were mad, punched a table and that one hit caused it to break in half?”

“Yes. I apologise for any inconvenience I am causing you,” Gavriel bows his head.

He hears her mumble under her breath, something along the lines of ‘holy gods’ and ‘males.’ She quickly scribbles down the need for a new table on a piece of paper, shaking her head as she does so.

“What exactly did he do?” Aelin asks. “Darrow, I mean.”

“He said Aedion wasn’t allowed to play with children in the city square because of his so-called reputation,” Gavriel scowls, the look foreign and unusual on his usually even face.

Narrowing her own eyes, Aelin places her papers down. “What did Aedion say?”

“I asked him to leave the room before I lost my temper with Darrow,” Gavriel informs the queen.

Aelin pauses, disbelief clear. “He listened to you? You told him to do something and he did it?”

“I don’t know how it happened either, don’t ask me to do it again,” Gavriel sighs. “I’m going to find him so we can talk. Pardon, my queen.”

“So formal,” Aelin grins, shaking her head. “I’ll see about getting Darrow a new table when able.”

“Please don’t draw it out too long,” Gavriel sighs. “He’ll just complain.”

“He can last a week or two,” Aelin sits back, shrugging. “Besides, finding the right table can take time.”

Gavriel sends her a dry look. “Of course.”

~~~

“You broke it?” Aedion stares at Gavriel.

The male frowns back, pausing in eating his own dinner. “Why does everyone repeat that question?”

“It’s just a little hard to comprehend,” Aedion sighs, rubbing at his eyes. “And I didn’t need you to do that. Those parents have a right to voice their concerns when it comes to their children.”

“That must refer to me as well, then,” Gavriel raises his brows. “I am sorry however that I diminished you by ordering you out of the room.”

“You didn’t order. You asked,” Aedion very nearly glares. “I simply conceded to a request.”

“Of course.”

Aedion glares.

“And just so we’re clear,” Gavriel lowers his voice once more, “after everything you have done and sacrificed for these people it is only fair that you are given the same freedom that any male on the street is offered. Your reputation, which you gained for their sakes, should not be held against you.”

A glimmer of amusement enters Aedion’s eyes. “I know. But thank you, it’s nice to have it acknowledged by you.”

Gavriel tips his head in a nod.

“Just so you, though, Evangeline has already talked to Darrow.”

Gavriel perks up at that, spinning to look at his son. “Oh?”

“She did,” Aedion nods. “I think it’s fair to say that no one will be making any more comments. She can be… fierce.”

They both grin.

#tog #lions pride #evangeline #aedion ashryver #throne family #oh my god why did this take me so long

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trashbaggage · 5 years ago

Text

started with a throwaway idea for ridiculous immortal!jaskier

had a breakdown about how one of his biggest fears is probably to matter so little as to be forgotten

bon appétit

He doesn't remember Before.

Before he had become a lost wanderer. Before he had woken, cold and alone, in a nameless town of strange faces. Before he forgot where he came from and started towards a life hopefully worth remembering.

If he focuses hard enough on that blank dark ocean of what was, he can see a twisted shape and a hunger never met with satisfaction. If he traces the small mark at the base of his skull, he can feel an ice-sharp claw of fear reaching in and pulling. He doesn't know how the mark came to be, but he knows it is jagged and hurt and there - an exit wound made raw by the relentless scrape of memories being extracted and consumed.

He had felt so hollow, those days after whatever had attacked him. So full of emptiness he could scream just from the paradox alone. At least he had come to in a room already paid for, with a few possessions that seemed to be his. For three days he stayed in that space, just to feel the walls block out the rest of the world he could not remember being a part of. But he could not stay there forever, and even though he ate during the days, a growing hunger still gnawed; he soon realized he had seen its match Before and he could only hope it would not prove as terrifying and insatiable.

That was a very short hope.

On the fourth day he left his little room, its comfort no longer enough. He told himself he just needed some fresh air to clear his head, some solid earth beneath his feet. But in the back of his mind, centered just by that mark, he knew he was hunting.

As the night fell around him, so did his new instinct, a cloak of stalking need - and even worse, a wanting thrill. He likes to tell himself he doesn't really recall what happened next, that it too was lost to him just like the Before. But this....this he remembers in scarring detail. A man ahead of him in the crowd, making his way between two buildings, thinking the shadowed alley will get him home quicker to his waiting family; following the man and calling out a greeting, a seemingly innocent question of direction - a trap to bring him closer; and the snare of his hands catching fast and quick upon the back of the man's head, his eyes going distant and glass-like in seconds. The only consolation he can give himself is that he didn't drain the man dry, but the man - Szymon, another thing he can't forget though he wishes dearly he could - went home that night with no memory of his ten year old daughter. Those years gone, and he does not know how to give them back; does not know if he even would after they had filled up that cored-out hollow inside, had quieted that hunger. For a time.

He goes back to his room that night and doesn't sleep.

He moves on the next morning, packing up his things and walking out of that town with a straight back and feet that want to run. He has no idea where he is going, or who may be waiting for him somewhere, anywhere; he fears, deep down to his marrow, that no one is. He just keeps moving, trying to stick to smaller villages and less-traveled roads; he thinks he has never done so much camping, but that's just an educated guess. Anything to keep away from other people, with their rich pasts calling out to him like feasts waiting to be consumed. He stretches himself thin, starving until he can no longer take the gnashing hunger, and even then he only tries to take the scraps he hopes no one will miss too much. There are a few slip-ups here and there, but his control gets better through gory practice.

And yet another problem arises; he feeds his hunger, and while that keeps him alive and going, it does not change how wrong he feels. Not just the heavy guilt from taking that which isn't his, but another wrongness. He has all these memories of other people's lives, all their mundanities and extraordinary moments, all their loved ones, all their lives lived, and though he owns them, for awhile, in a sense, they are not his. He is still blank. By the gods, he doesn't even know his own name! If anyone bothers to ask it of him, he gives a different one each time - nothing feels right. He knows nothing; he is nowhere and no one.

He is nothing.

Another few weeks. A handful of "meals". More names; his victims', that he can't forget, and those he shrugs on for a few days like an ill-fitting coat, soon to be forgotten. It doesn't really matter, anyway.

Nothing he does matters.

He had left behind a pendant, in one of the many cold rooms in the many towns full of strangers that had become a map of his sorrow. Not of his life, as he is not really living - merely surviving. They were mostly running and blurring together, at this point. But that pendant, a delicate lark with topaz chips for eyes, had been one of the few possessions he had from Before - he couldn't bear to lose any of those last ties to his past, no matter how small or frivolous, and no matter if he couldn't recall any memory attached to them. He just liked having tangible proof that he had been a real person, at some point, the kind that was thought of fondly and often, the kind who might have received such a necklace as a gift. So he made his way back to look for it.

He dearly wishes he hadn't.

It took him a few days to realize the item was missing, and by the time he noticed, turned around, and made it back to Velen, about two weeks had passed. He found his way back with little trouble, a cozy place with a red roof (creatively called The Red Roof Inn), just on the border of Novigrad. The same lovely young woman greeted him as he walked in, and he made his way over.

"Hello again, Ada! I know you must be tired of seeing this weary face, but I do believe I left something here and would very much like to see its return. Did you or any one of your lovely patrons find a little gold pendant? In the shape of a lovely lark? It's very important to me, you see." He may be a tad more desperate to find it than he thought - he's using more words and charm than he has in the past few weeks, but it does feel nice to converse with someone. And the girl had been very friendly to him during his first visit; they had even passed one of the nights with silly card games and some really excellent cakes she had made. It seemed they were both lonely souls.

A strange look passed over her face, and she just stared at him for a good few moments. He was about to ask if something was wrong, when she very hesitantly threw his world into disarray. "I'm sorry, sir, but - um, eh, do I... know you? We don't usually get a large number of people coming through here, but I do let some slip through the cracks, as they say." Ada gives a slight, self-conscious little chuckle, and he can see that there really is no recognition in her face. "When, um, when did you say you were here last? And you lost something? Maybe - "

"No, no, that's alright," he breaks in, amazed he can squeak anything out with the way his lungs can't seem to find enough air. She doesn't know him. She doesn't remember him.

Of course.

Of fucking course she doesn't! He can feel himself losing track of his surroundings, but he can see her face becoming concerned. She says something, but the words can't get past the rushing in his ears, and he just mutters out a few more "sorrys" and "nevermind, don't worry about it" and "made a mistake". He turns and runs out the door, almost tripping down the few steps outside, and keeps going until he finds himself in a pocket of quiet around the side of a building. The wood feels solid and harsh against his back as he slides down it to puddle on the ground, and he sits there for a long time, trying to get his breath and his mind back.

He leaves without the pendant.

The coin in his bag is running low, and he's not even sure how he gained it in the first place. He starts picking up odd jobs here and there, small things that toss little company and a few coins his way. It keeps him focused during the day, but the nights are still hard, yawning open and calling out for him to fall further adrift. He finally picks up the scuffed but well-loved lute that was with his possessions when he woke - he had only run his hands over the strings briefly, before he shut it away in its case. Now he brings it out and lays it on his lap, waiting to see if it sparks any memory; it doesn't, unsurprisingly - at least, not any visual memory. But as he brings it up, he finds his hands curling around its body, cradling it, and he feels settled for the first time in a long while. The notes he picks out are rough and scattered, nothing you could even generously call a song coming forth. He keeps working at it, though, and as the stars wink above him he welcomes the night with an aching but proud melody. He looks at the calluses on his fingers, built up on years of songs he can't remember, and thinks maybe I can create some beauty for the world, to help pay for my ugliness.

He falls asleep just before dusk, the lute still in his arms, and he does not dream of names and faces that don't belong to him. It is the best sleep he's ever gotten, and in the morning he comes awake slow and warm and refreshed. And so he keeps playing, his hands remembering where his mind forgets, and he makes up new tunes and lyrics and songs aplenty; it seems his hands were just waiting for that first chord to be struck. It creates a different hunger in him, but this one he isn't afraid of.

He is in another small town, just on the outskirts, helping out an older couple with their broken fence. They had offered him a warm meal and a warm bed for his work, and he is grateful for the kindness. He tries to keep himself so distant from people, to not hurt more than he can help it, and he gets so very lonely.

The sun is high overhead, the afternoon at its peak, and he has found a shaded spot for a break. The woman, Lena, had brought him a tall glass of cold water, fresh from the earth, and it tastes clear and sharp on his tongue. He decides to bring out his lute for some practice, and starts playing a silly little song about the flowering spring come to play, with her green locks buzzing with the hum of honeybees and her feet waltzing through streams and time alike; it feels the perfect atmosphere to play it. As he finishes a verse and rounds back to the chorus again, he hears a little voice from behind humming along, echoing his words back at him. He keeps playing, but turns to see the couple's granddaughter, a young girl of about eight or nine, dancing there with a basket of fresh-picked flowers; he thinks they will make an excellent wreath. As he winds down his song and slowly fades out the notes, she comes closer to him and holds out her dirt-covered palm, smiling the smile of two friends sharing a secret.

"I like your song," she says shyly. "You have a nice voice. Dziadek says nice things given should be thanked, so thank you." She shakes her outstretched hand slightly, and the little flower resting there catches his eye. It's a sunny and bright buttercup, and it's presented with the same gravitas as if it were solid gold. He reaches out to take it, and twirls it as he brings it up to his nose to breathe its fresh scent deep.

"Well, thank you for the thanks, and I shall treasure this token of our great and legendary friendship!" He cannot seem to stop smiling, and his chest feels like it's blooming. "Would you like to hear another song? I think you'd enjoy the ballad of Zofia the adventurer, who roams across the continent and makes friends with everyone she meets."

Her eyes light up and she plops down before him. "That's my name! Yes yes, play it!" A pause as she settles for a moment and says solicitously, "please", before she's back to dancing in her seat. He definitely can't hold back a laugh at that, and rewards such good manners with the promised song. He plays for her for a good twenty minutes before she's called back to the house, and as she leaves, still humming and singing snippets of the song he made for her, he reaches up to the buttercup tucked behind his ear and doesn't feel that ever-lurking hunger.

At the next place he stops, the innkeeper asks for his name as he's buying a room. He smiles as his mouth forms around "Jaskier", and it doesn't feel like a lie.

It's been a few years since he became Jaskier, and he still travels about like a petal on the breeze, uprooted but still going. Still alive. He can scarcely believe it himself. Lady luck seemed fond of fucking him over, but there was one benefit she tossed out like a battered bone to a starving dog: he doesn't seem to be aging. He hasn't caught any sickness in the past few years either. He's gotten into a few scrapes and dust-ups here and there, some truly unfortunate misunderstandings, but they healed pretty quick - especially if he'd been fed.

Which is another small miracle as well. The "rules" surrounding his condition aren't quite as set as he'd first believed. Certainly, the quickest way to address the hunger was to glut himself at the source, to find some poor soul and latch on for a quick meal. But other people's memories of their own lives and personal histories are not the only sustenance that can feed him - it seems writing himself in their memories works too. The more lasting the impression, the more energy he gains, and they even....taste different as well.

Memories unconnected to him taste bland in the worst way - like you know it tastes of the sweetest ambrosia to others, but it turns to ash in your own mouth, and you get echoes of what could have been, what everyone else seems to have but you. The memories he creates and becomes a part of have more substance. More zest. He's been playing taverns and inns along his meandering path, and those nights with generous and receptive (and drunk) crowds are the best - as people stumble out after or up to their rooms, still humming his songs, he feels full for at least a week, and he can taste happiness like crisp apples or a cold ale. And as he has become more comfortable around people again, in control enough to sate his loneliness on a more face-to-face basis, if you will, he's found himself some lovely company, and those memories he leaves his lovers with are tangy citrus and refreshing for a quick snack or pick-me-up. Although, of course, there are those few unfortunate misunderstandings he finds himself in, usually, he admits, in conjunction with those romps, and the tang can soon turn more sour and acidic - he's still full for a day or two, but it's uncomfortable and doesn't sit quite right.

He knows he has become louder over the years, everything about him calling out for a look, a remark, for attention. Brightly colored doublets garner admiring glances; a flash of silver or gold about his fingers make others want to reach out and touch; a sly wink and stories told through movement as much as words gathers people closer. After keeping himself so separate and quiet, shrinking himself down to pass unnoticed and hopefully unharmed, for all parties concerned, to let go and be so blatantly present is a thrill; he may be forgotten, but he refuses to be ignored.

(On his more maudlin days, he does wonder if this newfound freedom is truly a blessing - is being Jaskier the slow return of who he was Before? Is there anything real in the artifice he adopted to fit in and make life easier? Getting too philosophical makes his temples throb, so he just gives thanks that he may still be lonely now, but at least he's not so alone.)

#the witcher #witcher #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #witcher fanfiction #fic #this is just the first bit #i mostly know where i'm going with this #i'll prob post to ao3 when i have it more solidified #and it will be geraskier #but for now here's jaskier struggling with feelings of inadequacy and loss he doesn't even know the extent of #it'll get better #and then worse!#and then maybe better again :)#creature jaskier #functionally immortal jaskier

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yandere-daydreams · 6 years ago

Note

Can u please do somthin for yan momo?? Maybe some more fantasy au...💗

Petition for someone to give Momo a full suit of amour in a fantasy!au. I know it’s out-of-character, but my baby’s cold and needs an iron sweater.

The two of you had met on the front line, unfortunately.

The encounter had been brief, a fleeting moment of tranquility when she couldn’t think about anything besides whatever was right in front of her, down and in need of urgent care. The moment the enemy force surrendered, she’d collapsed, not remember whether she thought she’d die there or simply couldn’t stand to fight any longer. She didn’t notice someone was dragging to her the healer’s tent until she was already on the floor, dizzy and smiling deliriously as you pried a dagger from her side.

It’d been love at first sight... or first hear, rather. She couldn’t see you, eyes unfocused and covered in black spots, but your voice was better than any potion or ale she’d ever had, smoother and so, so beautiful. You distracted her with questions, talking about your family and letting her tell you about her friends, and by the time you were done, she was sure you were her soulmate.

The blood loss probably helped, too, but she liked to think you were just that sweet.

The bleary memories were blood-soaked and rose-tinted, but she could remember how you stitched her up, reassuring her second-in-command their leader would make a full recovery and helping Momo limp to a nearby cot, only laughing and telling her you had others to tend to when she clung to your arm and refused to let you leave. Still, you sat with her, brushing through her hair while she gave into her wounds.

You were gone, by the time she woke up, nameless, faceless and on your way to another battle, probably. Momo hadn’t let herself linger on it, after that, relishing in the fact she hadn’t died and taking her new role as a castle-guard with as much grace as she could muster. It was a cushy job, the princes and princess in no need of a safeguard, but she was injured. ‘Cushy’ was what she needed, even if that meant hours of standing in front of empty rooms and tolerating the high-class nobles she’d become a soldier to escape.

No, she gritted her teeth and forced herself to bear it. The prince she was assigned to guard was nicer than she expected, the two becoming quick friends, but that didn’t stop her from jumping at the chance to break up a fight between two new recruits, one of which who didn’t hesitate to attack their superior, not if it meant getting to his opponent. The injuries were minor, more bruises and scrapes than anything life-threatening, but she was still sent to the infirmary after the more hostile of the two was restrained. She’d been less than excited…

At least until she met the doctor.

Momo didn’t recognize you, not until your spoke, but instantly, she was hit with the same feelings she’d had the first time you’d cared for her. The blissful, warm familiarity, the kind that had her falling silent but itching to speak, to tell you that she was general you’d saved, the one who hadn’t wanted to let go to you, the one who’d never bothered thinking about someone else. She hadn’t realized how much you meant to her, not until you were leaning in front of her, your eyes sparkling, watching for reactions while pressing fingertips into her bruises. You were more gentle than she remembered, and so much closer than she thought you could be.

Momo cursed herself for not getting hurt sooner. How long had you been working here? Since the battle? All your life? So much time wasted, so much time she could’ve spent by your side, rather than protecting people who didn’t even need her. Her obsession grew naturally, swiftly, snaking its way into her mind and strangling the thoughts that fought against her temptation to see you again. It didn’t make sense, she knew it didn’t make sense, but that didn’t stop her from waiting outside your post every night, waiting for you to get off-duty and insisting on walking you to your chambers.

Of course, you were nothing but patient with her, smiling every time you saw the girl who went pale whenever she heard your voice and ignoring her more questionable habits whenever you could, making polite excuses when you couldn’t. It was only a matter of time before she requested a change in post, relinquishing her role as Shoto’s body-guard in order to better keep an eye on her lovely, helpless little saint. What if someone attacked you? What if one of your patients, in a fit of fever and craze, decided you were the one causing them pain?

No, she couldn’t have that. You saved her, so she could protect you. It was the least she could do.

Momo spent nine months with this mind-set, her fantasies becoming less innocent and more... mature. She wanted to kiss you, pull you closer and let everyone who dared think they were special know that you already had an owner, to tie you up until you stopped blushing and stuttering whenever she suggested something other than innocent conversations and the occasional friends hug. Even when you wanted your silly, childish ‘space’, her mind would stray to an alternate reality, one where you didn’t think you needed to hide from her, one where you knew you loved her.

Momo hardly slept, those nights.

You were her first priority, her only priority, after a while. The more time she spent around you, the more she seemed to hate anyone else who had the nerve to interact with two obvious soulmates. They were vile, disgusting, untrustworthy, treacherous. And you…

You were angelic.

And yet, then they had to go and ruin that, all the castle’s healers and medics soon coordinated to be sent to the site of a disaster, only a handful of knights and the king’s eldest child accompanying them. You were going, as well, because Momo wasn’t allowed to be happy. Not as child, not while fighting, not while the universe itself was determined to keep the two of you apart.

But, Momo was never one to complain, not without thinking of solutions. She couldn’t say she hadn’t been hoping for an excuse, waiting and biding her time until she had a good reason to claim what was rightfully hers. She’d purchased the cottage weeks ago, a cozy, unmemorable house on the edge of the capital, just close enough for her to live in while still serving the royal family. She could simply say the knights’ barracks had grown too crowded, or that she’d fallen ill, the excuse didn’t matter. Shoto was a friend, one who understood what it was like to be hopelessly in love.

And no one would notice the disappearance of one doctor, she was sure, especially one who was foolish enough to wander off while traveling, getting lost and never returning, most likely a victim to some wild animal or a local killer. It was a fate no one would question, much less blame Momo for.

You’d be happy with her, and she would be happy with you. And even if it did take some time for your adjust, she would be able to make sure you were safe.

In the end, your protection was all she wanted.

Until she thought you were ready for something more… intimate, anyway.

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thenovelartist · 6 years ago

Text

Disruptor Designer and her Model, day 3

3. Couple

Marinette was beside herself in excitement. After all, she was attending a fashion dinner she could only have dreamt about a few years ago.

She’d spent days sewing a ballgown that would be suitable enough for such an event. She was known as Ladybug, so, she would highlight that fact with her look. The dress’ skirt was full of layers of varying length, fading from red like the bodice to black. She decorated her hair with red ribbons, and to finish off her look, she wore a heavy ring of red eyeshadow with a few black dots by the corners of her eyes.

She was sure to make a statement. But that’s what Ladybug did.

She was greeted warmly enough by the host, to which Marinette grinned and thanked him for the invitation. When she entered the venue, her jaw dropped. It was practically dripping in crystals, distorting the lighting enough to make the whole place seem like it was glittering. The number of high-class designers here had her fangirling out on the inside.

But suddenly, once the initial awe ebbed, she realized she was standing in the middle of the room, completely out of her league. She didn’t do high-society events like this. She did little meet-and-greets with fans. She interacted with regular people, not with people who thought they were above those people.

So how was she supposed to navigate this?

“You look lost.”

Marinette jumped at the voice, then spun around…

Only to come face to face with Adrien Agreste.

She bit her tongue to hold in her word vomit until she was able to assemble it into something intelligible. “Maybe a little. I don’t exactly do events like… this.”

She patted herself on the back for her ability to speak as well as she did.

His grin widened. “Well, then maybe I can escort you around for a while? Until you understand the ropes?”

Her heart was flailing wildly. “That would be really kind of you. I’d appreciate it.”

He extended his arm to her, and she gladly took hold of it.

“Have you ever been to an event like this before?” Adrien asked.

She shook her head. “No. I’ve done large crowd events, but not for the high-class.”

He smirked. “Do you have any idea what happens at meetings like this?”

“My guess is a lot of talking business.”

“It’s all that happens,” Adrien informed. “And after a while, it gets rather boring. You learn who likes each other and who hates each other. You learn who’s backstabbing who. You learn who you can forge tentative alliances with, and who you can’t. You learn market trends and what’s likely to be in style and who’s hosting what event, etcetera, etcetera.”

“You make it sound like we’re spies gathering information.”

Adrien chuckled. A lovely sound, if Marinette were honest. “You have a lot of people who have their best interests in mind. They want their company at the top, and they do whatever they need to to make sure that happens.”

Marinette made a note of that.

“So what I’m trying to say, little Ladybug…” He bent over, his lips now close to her ear. “Is welcome to the wolf den.”

…

The moment Adrien had watched the angel in red walk down the stairs into the venue, he felt the overwhelming urge to protect her. That smile was too bright, too genuine for this crowd. One that would eat her alive.

He quickly swooped her under his wing, vowing that he would make tonight as enjoyable for her as he could make it. Thankfully, the few people he introduced her to were polite, talking about the fashion in the room over the fashion world in general.

At least, they could get along with that.

And then, dinner was served.

Thanks to assigned seating, Adrien couldn’t sit by her. He was seated between his father and another high-ranking designer. Ladybug, on the other hand, was on the other end of the table from him. Meaning he couldn’t protect her when one designer decided to pick on her.

“Miss Ladybug, you seem to occupy a… unique sector of the fashion world.”

“I don’t think the corner I occupy is unique,” she responded politely. “Just a different one from you.”

The man nodded. “And just how did you decide to occupy that corner?”

She paused, frozen. “Well, it started off as a hobby, and then the more I grew, the more I found ways to reach out to my audience and interact with them and learn from them what they wanted from me.”

“An… interesting approach,” the man said, gathering murmurs of agreement. “So, you would say you run more on the whims of other people than your own?”

“No, sir,” she respectfully explained. “I run on my own ideas, but it is my fans that tell me which of my ideas they like more.”

“And you find success in that? Letting other people tell you which ideas are the best rather than being the influencer?”

“I am an influencer, but what good is being an influencer if people don’t enjoy my content?” Ladybug spoke with authority, her tone strong and her posture proving she was not to be intimidated. “It would be as silly as a fashion designer who made things no one would want to wear. Isn’t that why all designers follow the trends the consumers set for them?”

The table went silent, staring at her in shock and awe, and in Adrien’s case, in pride. He’d been a follower of hers long enough to know she had to be a genuinely sweet person. The was a darling in the media. She could do no wrong. But apparently, Ladybug had a hard-enough exoskeleton to stand up to some ill-intended conversations.

And for that, his crush for her got a little bit worse.

The next conversation that happened when the next course was served, Adrien didn’t quite know how it started, but all he knew was that Ladybug was speaking again.

“I would say most of the market of consumers either doesn’t care about high-fashion or can’t afford it.”

“If most of the market doesn’t care,” some man said. “Then we wouldn’t have a business.”

There was a collective laughter at that. Adrien was watching Ladybug, already thinking of the best way to defuse the conversation if worse came to worse.

“What market are you talking about?" Ladybug challenged. “Everyone in the world wears clothes of some sort.”

“Yes,” a woman in a sleek black dress across from Ladybug said. “But what about people in our positions? People who need to present themselves as best they can? Men’s suits are a huge industry. And what about the women’s side? Does the average high-class woman not like looking as best they can? Having matching purses and shoes for every outfit?”

Ladybug stared down the woman.

“Of course,” Audrey Bourgeois herself spoke up. “Ladybug, you as a woman should know that a handbag can make the difference between looking sloppy or being at the height of fashion.”

“Yes, but height of fashion does not mean a two-thousand-dollar bag. That is the height of status. It’s entirely possible to spend less than two hundred and look like a millionaire just like it’s possible to shop in any last one of your stores and look like a complete fashion disaster.”

Adrien had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing. Oh Ladybug, he thought, looking at the girl who smirked as she observed the lines of people with their jaws on the table. You have no idea what you’ve just started.

…

“I completely ruined any chance of being invited back, haven’t I?” she asked Adrien, who had kindly offered to escort her to her car. Marinette didn’t think it was too late, but people had started taking their leave shortly after dinner.

“Oh, my lady, you…” He chuckled, his smile bright with amusement. “You did something.”

She smacked her hand over her face. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Maybe,” Adrien said. “But I thought that was the most interesting dinner I’ve ever been to. For someone so ‘beneath their status’, you certainly put them all in their place.”

She groaned. What an idiot she was. How dare she say any of that. But having watched those people staring down at her… it was like being bullied back in high school and she’d sworn she’d never let people walk all over her like that again.

And while she’d felt empowered at the time, she realized that these were the kind of people who could tear her apart in the fashion world. They could destroy her.

“But,” Adrien continued, pulling her from her thoughts. “I honestly loved watching you do it.”

Her heart that had been racing with anxiety beforehand came to a screeching halt. And so did she, she soon realized when he turned around to look at her. “What?”

Adrien gave her a sweet, warm grin that could knock her to her knees at the moment. “I’ve been around people like that my whole life,” he said. “And it’s honestly so tiring watching all these really pretentious people who think they’re high and mighty because of their money and status, and some of them think they know everything.

“And then here you come,” he continued, taking a couple steps closer to close the distance. “Not a care in the world for their status or what they could do to you, and when they start bullying you, you just put them in their place and act like a queen doing it.”

She felt like she was going to pass out on the spot.

“And let me tell you, I am going to get some serious crap from my dad for showing you around tonight and escorting you out like we’re some couple instead of near strangers, but I honestly couldn’t care less. Because from what I can tell, it was worth it. And…” He shuffled nervously, glancing down at his feet for a second before meeting her gaze once again. “You’re a very interesting woman, Miss Ladybug, and I would really like if you would grant me the opportunity to take you out on a date.”

#miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #ladrien june 2019 #ladrien #ladybug #adrien agreste #no miraculous AU #fashion au #aged up #first meeting

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exhaustedfander · 5 years ago

Text

When is Enough Enough? [Chapter Four]

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / Epilog

a03 link to story

The party was about just what Logan had expected; which was to say he wasn’t having a good time at all. It wasn’t Roman’s doing, the scene just wasn’t one that the logical man liked to frequent. When he’d first been invited, Logan had attempted to decline as politely as he could, reminding Roman how out of his comfort zone he would be.

“Oh come on, teach, you must be in attendance! It wouldn’t be the same without you there.”

While Logan appreciated Roman’s assurance that the shindig wouldn’t be half as fun if he didn’t show up, he knew then that Roman would most likely get far two swept up in the atmosphere of the party – as well as his instance to shove his tongue down Virgil’s throat at every possible moment – to make Logan feel all that included. And that was just what was happening.

What had been described as an “intimate get-together between friends,” was in actuality Roman’s home being filled to the brim with cast-mates from former plays he’d taken part in, other theater workers and people whom he’d meet in his improv and acting classes, and some friends of Virgil’s. Logan was sure that these were decent individuals, but he knew almost no one who was in attendance, and already not having been a fan of parties in general, it was becoming imminent that choosing to come was a mistake.

Roman had greeted him at the door, of course, with Virgil already standing beside him with an arm around his waist and the couple had offered Logan something to drink. It was strange, seeing Virgil fairly comfortable in such a crowded atmosphere, as such a thing usually would be quite the fight with Virgil’s heightened anxiety. But Logan supposes that by Roman’s side, Virgil felt a lot less vulnerable. It was nice, seeing his emo friend coming out of his shell, but it couldn’t take away from the fact that he was alone at a party he didn’t wish to be at.

He’d spoken with the couple briefly, as well as caught up with Patton and Janus. That was strange, too, seeing the two of them together so intimate, all things considered. Janus’s presence in the friend group for a long time was almost nonexistent. Janus and Virgil had been in a relationship some time ago that had turned rather sour. Logan didn’t know the particulars as to why, nor was it any of his business, but they all hadn’t gotten along with Janus very well for quite some time. He was known quite infamously for being a deceitful, lying person and was not welcomed in their presence.

But with time, it seemed that the old wounds between Virgil and Janus had healed for the most part and everyone was beginning to give him a chance. Logan had never had any particularly ill-feelings about Janus. He supposed wearing gloves all the time was a little strange, and there was that one time where Janus had impersonated him for a prank, but for the most part Logan was okay with him. Additionally, he made Patton happy, happier than Logan had seen him in such a long time and Logan could find no issue with that. Having known Patton for as long as Roman and Virgil, it was quite nice to see how Patton warmed up to Janus and eventually cultivated a romantic relationship with him.

Despite how sickly sweet the two couples are, they paid very little attention to Logan, spending time with one another and socializing with the other guests. Logan found himself standing alone in the kitchen, nursing half of a bear that he didn't particularly like before he felt a rather hard tap on his shoulder.

He turned around to see Remus grinning widely at him, clad in the most hideous neon-green shorts, a black sequin shirt with puffy sleeves and dark green flip-flops. Needless to say, it wasn't the wildest thing Logan’s seen him wear.

“Hello Remus. I wasn’t aware you were in attendance.” He attempted to smoother the gratefulness that seeps into his tone, but to no avail. Remus’s grin only seemed to broaden.

“Oh, I wasn’t invited,” Remus announced proudly, pulling himself up onto the counter so that he was sat beside Logan and had a better vantage point to fiddle with his tie. Logan pushed Remus’s hands away and smoothed out his tie. “I thought crashing my bro-bro’s party would be fun but what a bore this is! I’m so bored I could light myself on fire!”

It didn't surprise Logan that Remus wasn’t invited, seeing as his and Roman’s relationship was so fractured, but he didn't comment on it.

“That doesn’t sound like a very good idea,” Logan replied. Remus huffed.

“You’re no fun!”

“That’s interesting, seeing as I seem to recall you having a great deal of fun when we went to the science museum.”

“Well –,” Logan didn't fail to take in the adorable, err, intriguing way that Remus struggled to come up with a response, his face squeezed up in an exasperated expression, “Well that’s different! The museum was fun, not you!”

“Right, of course,” Logan said, knowing Remus was lying through his teeth, “how foolish of me.”

“Exactly. Speaking of fun, it doesn’t look like you were having too much of it before I showed up,” and oh, there was a delectable look in Remus’s eyes as he said it.

Logan wasn't an idiot, he knew there was a spark between them. Remus flirted shamelessly; then again, Remus flirted with everyone. But it felt different with him, more-sincere.

“You know me.”

“I do.”

“Parties aren’t my scene. Roman invited me, and I did not wish to hurt his feelings by not attending.” Remus pressed a pointed finger to Logan’s nose, a teasing smile painted on his face as Logan felt heat flush over his neck.

“Boop!” Remus chimed, pressing his finger again, knowing Logan wouldn’t let anyone else be so up in his personal space. Remus liked that.

“You ever told my brother we talk?” Logan noted that Remus doesn’t say “we’re friends.” He said talk and talk, well, that could mean so many things.

“No, I don’t believe I’ve mentioned it,” – Logan’s fully aware he’d never mentioned it –, “I suppose I figured that you two have a troubled enough relationship as it is.” Remus cocked an eyebrow.

“And you figure you’d trouble it more?”

“I…well…I don’t –.”

“Oh, stop sputtering, Nerdy Wolverine. Doesn’t matter anyway, this way it’ll be a lot easier to fool around with you a little without Roman suspecting a thing.” Now that brought the color out in Logan’s cheeks. He cleared his throat, keen to notice the look of satisfaction that brought Remus. While Logan was not always too keen to pick up when someone was flirting with him, it’s impossible to miss it with Remus. Subtlety really wasn't his forte.

“Very funny,” he chose to say, his brain failing to come up with a more suitable answer, deciding instead to change the subject, “Are you going to get something to drink?”

“Nah,” Remus responded, surprising Logan a great deal, “Me and alcohol don’t really mix all too well.”

“Oh, really? I can’t help but be surprised with that. I was under the impression that you’d enjoy drinking.” Remus’s lip quirked in a lopsided smile as he shruged his shoulders.

“Yeah, you’d think so. But nope, it kind of tends to bring out the worst of my behavior. Not to say that I’m not a bit of a handful most of the time.” Logan couldn't help but smirk at that.

“A bit?”

“Fine, I’m a lot of a handful all of the time,” – Remus punctuated the “lot” by making a squeezing motion in front of his chest as if he were clutching a pair of invisible breasts – “I don’t see you complaining.”

“Not most of the time, I suppose.” Remus chuckled.

“Right. But anyway, the last time I got really, really wasted I climbed up on the roof and decided jumping from it into the pool was a real swell idea.” Although the idea of Remus doing such a thing wasn't by any means surprising, it’s still incredibly upsetting to contemplate. He could have been so severalty injured.

“My god.”

“Yeah, it was pretty wild ‘cuz I actually made it in the water. But if I hadn’t? I woulda splat all over the pavement.” Logan crinkled his nose.

“That’s not a very pleasant image.”

“Just my blood and guts everywhere, all goopy on the pavement.”

“Remus –.”

“You think maybe my head might’ve turned the other way around? Or, or if I woulda broken all my bones and my arms and legs would have been all bent this way and that way and –.”

“Remus!”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop,” Remus said before grabbing Logan’s hand. “Hey, this party stinks. You wanna hang out outside? I don’t think there’s anybody out there.”

Honestly, the offer was quite tempting. Logan had barely gotten a word in with his other friends and he had just been considering calling it a night before Remus bumped into him. Additionally, Remus wasn't exactly on the guest list and it wouldn’t be odd to imagine Roman being a bit irritated to see his brother in his home.

“Sure, I suppose that sounds adequate,” Logan answered, certainly not because the idea of spending some alone time with Remus is compelling. No, that isn’t it at all, he merely wants to escape the part atmosphere.

“Goodie!” Remus declared vociferously, hopping off of the counter with more force than necessary. Before Logan could even grab the drink he’d been nursing that he did’t particularly want, Remus dragged him through the living room. A few of the party-goers did a double take, most definitely at Remus’s appalling outfit, Logan certainly can’t blame them. But as they push open the sliding-glass door to the backyard, Logan is emediately elated to see the backyard empty, just as Remus had said.

“What’d I tell ya? Nobody’s around,” Remus grinned devilishly before letting go of Logan’s hand – Logan most certainly didn’t miss the lack of contact immediately – and all but collapsed in the grass. Logan sighed at the antics of his friend, watching him pretend to make Snow Angels on the lawn before deciding to lay beside him, ignoring how dirty it would get his clothes. That’s what always seems to happen when Logan spends time with Remus, he momentarily forgot things like how filthy he might get, or silly he might look, or feel. Remus, knowingly or not, made Logan let his walls down.

“Too bad we can’t see any stars out,” Remus said after a brief moment of silence, as Remus was almost never silent, “I bet you could tell me a bunch of nerdy facts about the stars.”

“Well,” Logan said, suddenly feeling strangely nervous as Remus’s fingers brushed against his own, “I suppose, that is to say if you wanted to, we could go to the planetarium together sometime.”

“If I…wanted to?” Remus repeated questioningly. Logan averted eye-contact, casting his gaze to the Star-absent heavens.

“Yes,” Logan said, and though he wasn't looking he could practically see the smile that was spreading across his friend’s face, “If you wanted to. I know I tend to, uh, nerd-out, as you or Roman might say, when it comes to those things. But knowing the conversations we’ve had, I suppose we both nerd out about a lot of –.”

“You know I like you, right?”

Any of the words Logan had intended on saying come to a grinding halt as his eyes suddenly met Remus’s.

“I-I…uh…”

It isn’t as though Logan wasn’t aware of that. Remus had been making it fairly evident for some time, he just hadn’t expected it to be blurted out so brazenly. Looking back on that, though, he shouldn’t have expected anything different. Remus was a shameless, bold man who always said what he thought regardless of what ridicule might come of that.

“I like you a lot,” Remus continued, flipping on his side that their lips were only inches apart and Logan could feel Remus’s breath on his face. “And I know I can be a real pain in the ass. But you make me feel really special, Logan. Almost no one makes me feel special anymore, and it’s been so long since I really felt this way about someone, but I like you.”

Logan wondered if the light in the backyard is dim enough to hide the blush that’s crept over his face, but knowing his luck, probably not. Logan felt himself beginning to shudder, a nervous response that’s so unlike his usual self. His breath hitched but Remus gives him time to collect his thoughts, a small kindness that isn’t lost on him.

“I…I like you too,” Logan admited finally, “I like you quite a bit, Remus.”

It would be a lie to say that Logan hadn’t thought of what kissing Remus might be like. He’d been imagining it quite a lot lately, but this didn’t quite fit the bill. He was expecting it to be rough, somewhere edging on violent, with far too much teeth. That isn’t to say that it was gentle, either. As Logan’s lips interlocked with Remus’s his friend returned the gesture enthusiastic, his hands suddenly all over Logan and mustache tickling his upper-lip just slightly. Tangled in his hair, roaming down his waist. It was open-mouthed, and hot and driven by more passion than Logan would have given himself credit for, but with as heated as the osculation is, Logan found himself overwhelmed by the tenderness that seeps through.

And when Logan found himself pinning Remus into the grass, his hair mussed up and eyes shining with infatuation, his hands straddling Remus’s waist, Logan couldn't help but grin.

“Oh, Dragonfly,” and oh heavens, Remus had certainly never called him that before because he liked that, “I could get used to you on top of me.” Logan kissed him again, strong and unyielding, feeling all sense of his usual composure slip away.

Remus isn’t the man he was expecting, or even looking for at all, but now that he was here he couldn't seem to imagine any other possibility. All intentions of staying for the duration of the party fell away as Logan climbed off of Remus and stumbled to his feet, high off of the pleasure, and the enjoyment and all of the many, seemingly irrational feelings that flooded his mind. Usually, such an infiltration of strong emotion and the dizziness that they cause would terrify Logan but now he wasn't scared. He was thrilled.

“In that vein of thinking,” he said breathlessly, offering Remus a hand as he helped him to his feet, “Maybe we should continue this back at my place?” The flash in Remus’s eyes was positively devious.

“What? You don’t want to continue this here? Think of all the people who could walk out and see us?” Logan sputtered for a moment before seeing the teasing expression on Remus’s face.

“I’m kidding! Come on, nerd. Let’s blow this pop-stand.”

Remus held his hand tight as they walked through the yard and slipped out the back-gate, Logan’s mind running circles as they made it to his car. Logan was overjoyed for taking Roman up on his invitation, to not go to this party would have been a grave mistake.

=+=

#intrulogical #romantic intrulogical #human au #sanders sides #background prinxiety #background moceit #flashback sequence #fluff #getting together #first kiss #aludes to sex without getting into it #slight gore tw #but it's only Remus mentioning it #there's no actual gore #sammy writes #exhaustedfander #exhaustedfander writes #When is Enough Enough?

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prorevenge · 6 years ago

Text

Let's see how he looks at you now.

A few background information before I get into the story.

I am a bastard child, child born out of wedlock, but I am not the only one. I have a fraternal twin brother, we'll call him Dill. When my mother and father, who were both 25 at the time, found out they were having twins, my father left my mother in the hospital the day after we were born. Growing up, he was never in our lives and my mother didn't have any ill intent towards him. We resented the mention of a father who we never seen or met in our lives and was generally happy with my single mother. Even there was days my mother would share old Polaroids of them together, saying things like how we look like our father and how those we great days, but how nothing could compare to the day we were born.

Fast forward to 18 years old, Dill and I were at our graduation from high school. My entire moms side of the family was there to celebrate, take pictures and then have an after party at my aunts home. Before that could happen, my mother said she had a surprise for us as between the crowd, a man was emerging. Dill and I soon felt a terrible distaste as we could tell this man was the man who seemed to walk out on my mother all those years ago. We felt hatred towards this man even if my mother smiled whenever she would talk about him.

Our father cried, in turn making my mother cry as they soon told us how he was involved in our lives even if it wasn't in person or physical.

My parents told us that when we were born, they agreed that they couldn't take care of twins with the income they had. With a worded agreement, my parents agreed that my father would have to walk out for most of our lives to support us and sent money off from a job miles away from our birth town. So the years of birthdays, cars, Christmas presents, Halloween costumes and thanksgiving dinner wasn't only paid by my mother, but our father as well. They handed us envelopes that they said was for our college tuition. Our father even took us by the hands and got on his knees while crying. As if on an instant, it was like our resentment towards this man fluttered away. I cried and Dill was helping him up. Without a second thought, we embraced our parents and my father wouldn't stop apologizing.

Our relationship with our father 9 years later couldn't be stronger, we bond any way children and their father could have.

With their help we graduated from college, me in business and fashion while my brother in computer sciences. We are both 27 now, doing things we both love.

Now, you are probably wondering: "Maybe they got pro revenge on their father who abandoned them for 18 years."

I'm here to tell you, No, it isn't. My pro revenge story is about the woman our father brought to our high school graduation.

Our step-mother, her name being Heather for this story as for privacy reason.

Heather was and still is married to our father. At first glance, she was a very nice looking woman and we were happy that our father was in love with someone. Our mother had no qualms about the marriage as she was partially the instigator for my fathers proposal.

Heather was about 5 years younger than my father who is 53 years old now, and has 3 other boys (6, 8 and 19 then. 15, 16 and 28 now) with another husband. We also get very well along with them, my brother and I loving the fact we have friendly, kind and sweet step-brothers who would step in if anything was wrong.

But, what we first thought was not at all what we seemed.

The story:

Within the first 6 years we got to know our father and Heather, we noticed that Heather was extremely babied and spoiled by our father. She and our step-brothers wore clothing brands and had expensive devices. My father told us that he would shower us the same way if we pleased, but we passed on the offer as just reconnecting our father and the times he spoiled our behinds off when we were children while we resented him was enough to spoil us rotten.

The days we would spent at our fathers house, I would wake up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom or drink water to hear Heather shouting at my father, who would attempt to quickly calm her down in a nonthreatening fashion. I didn't understand why he was being yelled at but it slowly pricked at me whenever I experienced it.

It wasn't until I realized my father would often visit us with scratch marks, cuts and bruises on his face and sometimes his arms. That was always unsettling to my brother and I when our father would joke that a cat would dig in their trash or some random excuse that was a obvious lie. We figured we couldn't do anything until our father would stop bottling up his truth.

Our step-brother, the eldest who we will call Matt came with us to go drinking and dancing on our 25th birthday. My brothers got wasted, I had a bad experience with an ex-boyfriend and drinking so I stayed away from drinking. Therefore, I was the designated driver for that day. With the help of a few, less drunk, friends, I managed to get my brothers in the car. Matt in the front and Dill in back, his face pressing against the leather cushion while bumbling something silly.

As we drove home, Matt was slowly getting sober but I could tell he couldn't fully comprehend what he was saying. He smiled at me with his silly drunk face and slur some stuff about how lucky we were to have such a caring father and how much his younger brothers loved us. That made me happy until he would blurt out something that made me uneasy. What came out of his mouth would make me seethe with rage.

"Our mom always talks bad about him and your mother to us. Mom hits him too." He said with a laugh before he leaned against the door, said he was tired and went to sleep.

How dare she.. I would think as I got to my mothers house and got my brothers up enough to help them stumble into the house. I would tell my brother and my mother what Matt had said when he was drunk.

My Dill was pissed when he found out and my mother was just in shock as she thought she was good friends with Heather. Dill confronted Matt 2 weeks later about what Heather would do to our father and why?

Matt said that he knew Heather was extremely manipulative and spoiled, so much so that Matt's father was angry with Heather and divorced her after she had cheated with his slightly more wealthy friend. He told us Heather would scratch, throw stuff, threaten and belittle my father whenever she didn't get what her or any of her children wanted immediately. My father, being the kind man he is, would tolerate it and give her anything she pleased with a smile. Matt would be forced to stop her before anything worst could happen. There would be days where she took her kids and stayed at her parents house if my father would attempt to refuse or tell her that funds were low. It was terrible when she had found out our father was tucking aside money for our college funds.

She would talk terribly, in text and in person to her children, about my father being a filthy, broke Cambodian immigrant and not loving her, my mother being a gold digging woman "white bitch" trying to coax my father into help pay for our lives on the side.

We were disgusted and pissed at Heather. She would hurt our father and talk horribly of my parents without looking at her entitled self. This was a moment where we would need to put her where she belonged, we wanted to ruin her but we settled on changing the way our father would look at her, which would be damaging her in a special way.

Dill, Matt and I came up with a plan. Dill and I were our father's pride and joy after all, so why not put one of ourselves as bait. With the three of us, we scrounged up money we saved up together from jobs, birthday money, gigs and side tutoring from the several years we grew up together. Dill and I were saving money to buy my mother and her boyfriend a new place to live as their place was being littered with pests ranging from rats to termites each summer. So the money we pulled together came up to around $2800. After a argument with Dill, it was decided that I would be the one to enact the pro revenge.

The revenge:

After the 3 months of gathering and careful planning, I had taken the money and told my father and Heather that we wanted to buy mother and her boyfriend a home to live in. My father asked my budget and I pull out the money, making an effort to count it in front of them to push the bait. When Heather saw the money, I could see her eyes widen in surprise. My father told me that we were good kids, that he was proud of us that we grew up to be kind people. I felt kind of guilty, I was going to contort my father's feelings towards this woman. I was hesitant but looked at Heather's face, I was determined.

We spent the next hour finding a good home for mother, settling on one as we would visit the real estate place the next morning. I took the money and went to my room, I hid the cash under my bed mattress, the most obvious place a person would hide it, right?

During the whole house finding, my brothers were setting up something in my room, something that wasn't in my room before. One of those large Valentines teddy bears that Dill had got me when my ex-boyfriend dumped me on Valentines day.

Matt, Dill and I would leave the house, going to our mothers house under the guise of saying we were going to tell her the surprise. Fast forward to 5 hours later, we go back to my fathers house, he was at work, doing the night shift as a security guard. When we walked into my room, I will visibly surprised as all my drawers of my dressers were pulled out, my closet was ravaged through and my bed mattress was flipped, we didn't expect a hurricane to go through my room needlessly. The teddy bear was also disturbed though, thrown on the ground with it's face to the ground. We were slightly panicked as Dill had picked up the teddy and rip out threads of its back and pulled out something.

I went call to my father, a little panicked and said my room was rummaged through and the money was gone. Honestly, I was actually scared because it was most of the money Dill and I saved to actually get my mother a place, thinking it would have been spent soon enough. My father was panicked, saying he'd be home as fast as he can.

As soon as my father got home, I was joined in my room with Matt, Dill and our father. Dill and I expressed our disappointment and anger to my father about Heather. Next to my laptop was camera that Matt had received from his dad. It was plugged into the computer as Dill asked my father to sit down and watch the video.

The video played.

It had showed an empty room before Heather had walked in, not at all sneakily as she pulled out my drawers, pulled my clothes out and threw it to the ground before repeating it with my closet. She even walked over straight to the bear and picked it off before frustratingly throwing it to the ground. It was facing most of the ground for the time as there was no sound either.

As the video ended, Dill and I could see the gears clicking in our father's head. Our father was kind, not dense, after all. In our 9 years of knowing this man, we have never seen him angry until that night alone. Dad had called Heather, telling her to come home immediately. She got home 4 hours later with three bags of brand name clothing. I felt my heart break as I already knew she had probably spent all of that money. I started to choke back my sobs as Dill would try to calm me down, being angry himself. Matt just staring at his mother with a face of disappointment.

My father began to ruthlessly shout at Heather. He reprimanded her for spending all the hard earned money of their children. She scoffed, handing over the envelope with only three-fourths of the original money and some change. This only made father more angry as he would shout at her to get out of his house, threatening to divorce her and throw her onto the streets without the items. Her eyes got wide and her face contorted into a face of 'oh no.' She began to plead and beg as my father forcefully turned her around and pushed her out of the house, still yelling at how horrible she was. Matt was forced to follow because even if she was a horrible person, she was still his mother. For only 10 minutes, Heather banged and begged to be let back in before she was forced to leave my father's property.

My father apologized profusely that night as I did nothing but stare at the leftover money and cry in my room.

My father is still married to that woman, but he refused to look at her, most of the time or sleep in the same bed. He still loves her in a way as a husband would a wife, but now it is different for him as his wife was the filthy thief of his blood and flesh. We had given Matt his portion of the bait money and was given back a little of the money when Heather returned a few of the items back to the stores.

Fortunately, 2 years later, we finally bought my mother a three bedroom, 2 bathroom house in a non-infested neighborhood. She was unbelievably grateful.

Maybe now its time to help save up divorce money.

If you read this far, I'm so glad you had wanted to stick around to the end. That is all.

Thank you for reading.

(source) story by (/u/Heart_Garden)

#prorevenge #by /u/Heart_Garden #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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